SquirrleyMojo:

Bet You Thought I'd Never Write Here

Monday, February 28, 2005

It May Not be the Over-looked Oscars But--

I refused to blog about Oscar last night,
but my blogging today seemed so darn dreary
that I looked for something a bit more cheery:

Beauty Pageant to Choose Miss HIV

Mon Feb 28, 8:56 AM ET Oddly Enough - Reuters
By Peter Apps


GABORONE (Reuters) - There is a catwalk banquet, hordes of journalists, traditional dancing and time-consuming hair styling -- but at Botswana's beauty pageant every competitor must be HIV (news - web sites) positive.

At a palm tree-studded resort and conference center in the capital Gaborone, 12 girls are competing this weekend for the title "Miss HIV Stigma Free."

"We are saying here we are, we are HIV positive and it doesn't mean it's the end of the line," 33 year old reigning Miss HIV Kgalalelo Ntsepe told Reuters in her cluttered one room cottage, where she displays trophies of her win in 2003.

Largest global diamond producer Botswana has one of the highest HIV rates in the world with an estimated third of the population infected.

The government is using its mineral wealth to provide life prolonging anti-retroviral drugs -- but many do not know their HIV status or are unwilling to come forward for treatment. Organizers say the pageant aims to tackle that stigma.

"After I started the medicine, I became stronger and stronger," said Ntsepe, who was diagnosed in 2001.

"We are trying to say there is life with this medication. Some don't believe I'm HIV positive because I'm so healthy," she said.

AIDS (news - web sites) groups welcome the pageant, which is sponsored by British bank Barclays. "It may just be a pageant, but it is important because it brings together people with HIV who are open about their status," said Brad Ryder, spokesman for the African Comprehensive HIV/AIDS Programme.

"They need support, they need to come out and get acceptance for their condition."


Awareness is always cheery, don't you think?

xoxoxo

I Am Simply Reduced To:

I hate our medical system I hate our medical system I hate our medical system I hate our medical system I hate our medical system I hate our I hate our medical system medical system I hate our medical system I hate our medical system I hate our medical system I hate our medical system I hate our medical system I hate our medical system.

must clense . . .

Am I Not Well?

Decision making: Difficulty in Decision making.

Seriously, could there be some vitamin I'm missing?
I'm get a tad bit worried~my inability to make simple decisions
is starting to hamper my functionality.

The blouse dilemma yesterday really brought this growing
element of my personality to fruition~

I googled the above phrase. No answers. No answers.
One life to live >panic< just one life to live,
and in order to do so, one must make decisions . . .

but how?

and how did I get here anyway?

Sunday, February 27, 2005

Oral Sex Leads to Pregnancy?

Is this for real?

How did she--? What--? When he--? Huh??

I've Never Been Accused of Being Vain, But

I've always had great hair.
I mean, really.
Normally, "looks" just don't concern me.


So yesterday my hairdresser found 3, count them, 3 gray hairs.
Now I have on occasion seen a wirery white hair
springing to my attention in the mirror & I've simply
plucked it.

My hairdressor says No! One must cut them at the base.
She promptly addressed the matter for me, snip snip. Problem solved.
The visual problem of grayness, that is.
Not the actual problem of untimely ageing.

I complained: "This isn't fair! My mother isn't gray.
My hair color
should never go gray. Never."

She replied: "It isn't your mother. It's your father's side.
Your paternal grandmother."

I felt stunned; I felt as if I had just been diagnosed
with a horrible bone-marrow disease.

"My grandmother, Ione, was practically bald by 65." I wispered into the mirror.

I have found a fear worse than gray. Joy.
But I am still so in denial.
Simply way, WAY, too young.

AND I never found a blouce yesterday. My eyes were
asulted by pastels. Not ready to give up my winter black.
So when I wake up Tuesday
and have to get dressed for work~

I am visually falling apart.

So, IF I Did Have Children

I imagine I would make the 12one read to the Twins
when, as Kindergarteners, they would bring home
those ridiculous "books-in-a-bag."

Only, my 12one would make up fantastical stories to them
b/c as a younger child herself, I would have
read to her in a similiar fashion--
becoming so bored with mediocre fairytales, that I too
would go off page and make up my own plot twists . . .

In fact, I could see her now sitting on the floor
beside the boys' bunkbeds
reading an Xmen comic and fantasizing
that George W. was, in fact, Professor X's arch villian.
She would mock his inaugural speech, especially the line:

"And then, there was a day of fire . . ."

I would be in the kitchen washing up from
3 days worth of dishes,
swelling with pride . . .

Friday, February 25, 2005


By the way, did I mention that all photos on this website are taken by me? Posted by Hello

Tempting Money

You will weep the day you ever taught me Links!


Why not? Someone has to blog it.

Exotic Food Kick, Er, Kitsch

Have you noticed that food and food preparation is becoming, well, kitsch?
I know we all have mixed feelings about this new
cultural development, and I do realize that something must be done about
obesity; no one can live productively on fastfood alone--
so I've heard a billion-gazillion times in the past 2 months.

However, I am becoming more and more interested
in how "we" talk about food(s).
What kinds of foods do we talk about eating? or making?
Which foods do we proudly proclaim/ashamedly hide?
Which foods hold a cultural "coding" of, frankly, class?
How do we casually use food to create social hierarchies?

Ok, so I am having trouble expressing this fuzzy thought,
and I know the way food works in culture,
particularly the way food is used as an indicator of social status,
is nothing really "new," but I can't help feeling a bit mashed

over the way "tater tots" are bashed
in the film _Napoleon Dynomite_.
The mise-en-scene of this film is ripe with allusions to _Gilbert Grape_ . . .
and the mid-western culture of lower-middle class situations.
What does that suggest of people who, gulp, do occasionally eat such foods?

Although I appreciated the establishing sequence of table-top delicacies
as a commentary on the film itself,
dare I say,
the tater tot scene pissed me off?

Not that I would ever admit to eating tater tots, either.
Of course not.
Not even here in cyberspace.
I am simply speaking for those who may want to.

btw. Here's a little something I am whipping up for dinner tonight:

Prawn Patia
Ingredients:
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp crushed dried red chillies
4 tbs groundnut oil
1 capsicum, chopped small
2 large onions, sliced
1/2" ginger, finely chopped
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
4 fresh chillies, finely chopped
1 lb prawns, peeled
1/2 tsp turmeric
1 14oz tin of plum tomatoes, drained and roughly chopped
water


Heat the salt, cumin and dried chillies in a heavy frying pan over a high heat for 1 minute. Keep the spices moving. Add the oil. Lower the heat and add the onion and capsicum. Cook for a few minutes until the onions are soft. Add the ginger, garlic and chillies. Stir for another minute. Add prawns, turmeric and tomatoes. If the mixture is too thick add a little water. Simmer until prawns are cooked through.

With:

Vegetable Bajia
Contributed by Lalitha Iyer

Ingredients:
2 cups of cut vegetables of your choice such as cabbage,peas, capsicum cut in thin strips
1 cup of onion cut in to thin strips
2 teaspoons red chilli powder
1/2 teaspoon asafoetida powder
1 tablespoon salt
1 tablespoon oil/ghee
1 teaspoon grated ginger
1 green chilli finely chopped (optional)
1 cup of finely chopped corainder leaves
1 teapoon cumin seed/powder
2 cups of besan/gram flour
1/2 cup rice powder

Preparation :

Mix all the vegetables and spices. Then add this mixture to a mix of the besan and rice powder and mix well using as little water as possible. Heat oil in a pan . Drop the mixture in the oil with the help of a teaspoon to avoid mess! Fry till golden brown. Serve hot with tomato ketchup or chutney. This can be even eaten by keeping in between two bread slices with tomato ketchup. The onion and coriander increases the taste of the bajia and smells nice too!!!

Afterward, if we are feeling frisky,
I may whip up:

Frozen Bikinis to drink! Yum yum.


What are you having for dinner tonight?

Bread Crumbs

I couldn't stand it any longer.

I've left "bread crumbs" for my friend in Cambridge to find this blog.
She's pretty swift, so we'll see.

In the meantime, under non-relenting presure from DMB,
I will try to link from my blog to her personal blog:

millertarized

>Gosh< (read w/Napoleon Dynamite accent) I hate it when you pressure me!
I just want to blog.

I Think I Just Fell Out of a Box onto the Earth

U.N.: World Population to Hit 9B in 2050
1 hour, 59 minutes ago World - AP Asia
By EDITH M. LEDERER, Associated Press Writer

[UNITED NATIONS - The world's population will increase by 40 percent to 9.1 billion in 2050, but virtually all the growth will be in the developing world, especially in the 50 poorest countries, the U.N. Population Division said. . .

"We must take more urgent action to promote access to reproductive health, including family planning, and fight HIV/AIDS to save millions of lives from AIDS and maternal death, as well as to reduce poverty in developing countries"]

You think? If only I were in a position to do something about this. If only I had the knowledge or resources to learn how to become more involved. And I am not talking small-scale. I want to make a visible difference.

I need a mentor.

Thursday, February 24, 2005

Finally! A reason to sue~

Thank you Arizona RX Stress Herbal Iced Tea.

For the past 8 weeks I have occasionally jogged
over to the Oasis to purchase a little pick-me-up
before I teach the 3rd class of my day
(3rd class of the day, right in a row, I must add).

Not having much time to, say, eat,
I will pick up an iced tea to give me some pep.

Well of all the nerve!!

Lo, and behold, to my own astonishment: Arizona RX Stress Herbal Iced Tea is, indeed, decaffeinated! Hello? "A Refeshing All Natural Tonic"??
Isn't caffeine "natural" to tea, d*mnit?!

Such fine print too. B*stards.
I nearly fell asleep while teaching.

If You are Happy and You Know It

Wear a mask.

Ok--time for the drama show: psych yourself up for performance time.
Exercise the face muscles. Up go the cheeks. The corner of the mouth.

When facing the public at work, it is essential, in this community, to put on a smile.
Smile smile smile.

B/c smiles are a very important commodity when trying to sell the self.
One must never allow disappointment or anxiety to show.

"How is your day?" Terrific! Say it and mean it.
Refortify your spirit and soul; embrace the day ahead.

Succinct and Strange

Where I caome from, the word/term "strange" does not necessarily connote negative feelings; the word "strange" is simply another word for "interesting."
Except the word "interesting" just really isn't, well, so interesting.

Adjunct Blues

Just looked at the Eng schedule and --surprise-- my name is not listed. I don't think I can take another public humiliation . . . I'm not sure what B's game is; frankly, I believe he simply doesn't know what he's doing, or perhaps he doesn't care b/c he is retiring. I'm just reminded how horrible this system can be: teaching/preaching radical inclusion, while practicing ridged forms of gate-keeping and exclusion. As Derrida says~it's all a game.

Let me off this teeter-totter. Help me find a space in this society where I can be the most productive and happy.

Go Green Tree Frog

So, the news from Atlanta, GA, is that they are close to naming their state amphibian. All my hopes and dreams are on the green tree frog. What a nice little girl.

And I love that the South Korean government confiscated fake designer clothing and redistributed it to the homeless--why can't we do something like that?

Today the new schedules come out at my U. We'll see what classes, if any, I got. It's so awful not to see your name on the schedule, only to receive a call in a few days asking if you will teach such and such section--no public declaration of your worth--that's the worry that has been dancing around my skull! Got you!

Gotta go--wearing jeans today for the first time. Screw it.

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

Some Strange Blogs I've Run Into

SquirrleyStarFish says: So, no links. Bite me.


http://duanekeiser.blogspot.com/
ahhhhhhhhhhhh. I could live here for some odd, odd reason.
I'd love to be flat and 2-di for a day, full of color.

http://alexandratheconservative.blogspot.com/
I knew this was a spoof; sadly when I called her out on it, she quit writing.

http://gizunia.blogspot.com/
I'd love to comment on this blog and probably would have,
if it wasn't for, ahem, a certain "Mike" incident a couple days ago
that alerted me to the dangers of this underground BLOGWORLD.
Yes, it's a miracle I'm still here in mirrorshades
(so I think oh so pathetically).
But back to gizunia--Something almost creepy about this blog--but I'm
sure it's just me and my over zealous imagination . . .
probably a sincere lonely soul . . .

http://www.cananybodyhearme.blogspot.com/
can people just visit this girl?? leave a flower.

Job Posting

I must begin looking soon (hey, it's only been 8 mos. since I graduated).
A close bud forworded me a post that began:

Job Postings
W College, a career-oriented liberal arts institution affiliated with the Society of Friends (Quakers), is located in southwestern . . .
What could be wrong with this first premise?

Anyway--know of a job? Post it here.
We'll call it SquirrleCom.com
and whomever lands me my first job gets a 10% hiring bonus.

Generation X Got Ripped Off

Wouldn't you agree? I mean, all of the fabulous memories have been ramsacked--
we've been robbed--
all of our memories commodified
and put back out on the shelf--redefined, made anew.
Turtles, ponies, and bears.

I wanted to blog playing Inpector Gadget with my siblings,
on a farm, in the summer, next to a mulberry bush.

But no. Do I want to plant images of Matthew Brodrick in your minds?
I'd rather not.

I don't think there is any cartoon, persona, book or toy
from my childhood
that hasn't already been exploited on someone else's blog . . .

Virtual Love

So I feel loved, but not.

There's a love-buffer-wall built up around my body.
I'm touched, physically, but not really.

Yeah, I'm SAD too, among other twisted, non-diagnosed
suspicions (raise eyebrow)
as well, but I feel all weirded-out too. Restless.

Came home to lots of email from old friends
saying especially nice things to eachother, to me;
my students are sucking up well,
asking what classes I will be teaching next quarter
b/c they love me so;
my new blogger buddies are charming, witty and wonderfully low-maintenance
(is that too terrible?) . . .
it must be week 8 of the quarter & I'm trapped
in some undecipherable emotive cycle--to unlock the cycles of our lives!

I need an adventure. An adventure.
I need resolution.
What to do with this life?

Sex isn't enough. Location isn't enough.

I feel so voracious. Utterly starving--
a great furry carnivore with gaping mouth and large teeth--
protruding tongue--
I can walk down a hall and feel like a giant--
stride over rolling hills or fields,
stair step the nearby buildings.
Bring down corrupt governments
and lift children of color up to pluck stars
showing them to weave the hot liquid into the hair of old mothers.
Tuck my chin to my chest, roll down the steps,
and unfold into cold spring showers.

A crane shot pulls away from my body,
spiraling up,
me, reduced once again to a child laying in grass--
not knowing whose perspective sees me
pinned to the sheet
with an alcohol swab near by.

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

Burnt Bridges & Spell Check

So, here at work I can use SpellChecker b/c the pop-ups are not disabled.
Funny, the word "blog" shows as error on Blogger's SpellCheck . . .

Yes, I am typing here at work w/o much concern. I figure I'm on the out right now as it is. Being sick in this profession certainly has it's downs. Even though I followed all protocol, I still catch weird vibes at work--not sure if I am overly sensitive, but one gets the feeling of being continually "frowned" upon for a canceled class. Instructors are above illness?

For example, many students didn't show up for class today--"I'm sick" or "Didn't feel like it." Had one woman challenge me: "What if I get sick before Thursday's exam?" My colleagues are sympathetic, mostly. Some will seem snide when they say, "Yeah, I think I had that too. I took some cough syrup . . ." And discuss how they continued to plow ahead.

When I was getting my MA, I did that. Fevers and all. Once, I ran off the road in a snow storm, just to get to class.

But now, d*mnit, if I'm sick, I want to stay in bed and sleep it off. I like my body--it serves me well. Why torture it? Yet, I sure would like to avoid the damage "calling in" does to my ethos/credibility. Or perceived damage. All the snide remarks and eye rolling upon return to work . . .

Pedagogy

Yikes--my own philosophy is kicking my *ss. I believe that the learning falls almost completely on the teacher; she is the one who must motivate the student to learn, supply enough information to the student, and ask enough engaging questions that lead to critical thinking.

Bottom Line: Grades this quarter are low. I firmly believe that correlates to my presentation of my expectations. If I make my expectations clear enough, the students will follow through. Now, sometimes I don't want to make my expectations perfectly clear--I hate hoops, so why would I want to be the creator of hoops? Instead, I would rather encourage students to be thinkers on their own . . . However, I must find a mediation space between the general direction I'd like my students to take . . . am I communicating "the point" of each class?

aiya. I'm even more uneasy writing this blog. voicing these insecurities.

GAMC

I once worked at a hospital, as a patient rep in a smallish billing department.

That was between '92 and '96. When HMO was a new, omnious word lurking on the horizon. Fresh out of High School, I had worked my way to this position through the admissions department. I am not that old; however, I find it remarkable that we were using typewriters to admit patients to the ER. Now, at HH, using a typewriter makes me nervous.

I was in charge of hooking up the INS Billing department to some mysterious source at the state capitol. Later, I would probably use the term "online" to describe the process. That was before "windows" (seeing a blank screen w/ a "C:" still scares me) and during a time when one could still hear the modem dialing . . .

Monday, February 21, 2005

Habitat for Humanity

Woo-woo. Just worked on our bi-monthly newsletter and looks like our chapter of HH may be planning a "Women's Build" this summer. Women from the community get together and build a house, from scratch. I'm so excited--this will be great.

Even if, I honestly don't know how to operate a power tool, and I am a wee bit nervous from hearing how men have been having accidents where they, er, well, run nails up through their skulls (and live through it). In the news 2x lately.

Cheers

b.t.w. Guess I'm a bit "out"; I am biologically and socially female. I know, big surprise. But does this rearrange your view of me? Why do I feel sad? Everyone knew . . . I could never, never come out all the way. Not even in VR.

Sunday, February 20, 2005

I Can't Go On and On

here's the jist:

guy in a pink work shirt
talking loudly
late at night
a small grocery

says, "it's these darn women--no offense to you (pretty lady)"
smiles
reeks

something clicks
"you know what? [loudly--i'm not afraid to make a scene] that IS offensive--"

"i'm sorry maam (even spell that word?)--I am truly sorry."

snicker snicker with the young boy behind the counter
reeks some more

"you know what else is offensive? [there's a line growing behind me] drinking and driving. yeah that's offensive."

blanches. suddenly sober. "i couldn't agree with you more. that's why i've got a friend out there ready to drive me home."

"good. we don't want any smashed up babies on the road tonight."

more talk. i am shaking.
the clerk is wry, looking down to the left.

a big biker-looking guy is by the exit.
the drunk fellow strolls over and talks to the biker-guy.

i am alone.

my hands shake as i write out the check.
i have to leave.
i place my keys between my fingers. but i feel weak in the limbs.

i hear, "alright, alright. i thought i knew you from school or something."

he is parked 4 cars down from me. waiting at the end of his busted-ass vehicle.
i get in. lock all doors. memorize his #. am still shaking.

call cops.
think i may have saved someone's life tonight.
the guy was wasted.
"just wanted to have some fun. got kids of my own. don't want to hurt anyone."

he was alone. waiting for me to drive off.
weighing his odds.
but life is so much more complicated.

he wasn't a jerk--really. he was being "friendly" to everyone he knew.
i may have cost him his job tonight.
he might really have kids of his own.
and their dad's in jail.
or wrapped around a tree.

it's been 2 hours.
i can't stop shaking.

Hello? Hello? Hello A.I.

Picasa's HELLO program keeps popping up, by itself, onto my PC. Unbidded.

I walk into the room and it is up and running, by itself.

Connecting to SquirrleyMojo, by itself.

Flashing pics at me that I've downloaded weeks ago.

It's freaking me out. I feel like it has a window-cam, looking into
my world. Spying.

But no one is behind the cam. The cam is alive. By itself.
A flower, on a stem, looking into me. Hello. Trying desperately to make contact.

8:29am Sunday Morning

The phone rings and a cheerful Baritone voice salutes
our first waking moments with: "Good Morning ________ & Family!
This is John _______. I was calling to wish you a good Sunday Morning
and to invite you to __________ Church at 10:30 . . ."

I wanted to go.

My partner works for an "International Co.," perhaps I've
mentioned it before? But in case I have not, let's call it "Excellent Intent."
At Excellent Intent my partner is the, ahem, Director of Workforce Development.
John ________ is a contact from Excellent Intent who works
with MRDD individuals. He is also said pastor of said Church.
A Methodist Church that "really isn't Methodist at all." [?]

Again, I wanted to go.

I had just finished a dreamy dream about taking
those Twins and the Twelve One to a world-class
amusement park/water park--with fireworks jetting out from behind
a miniature Statue of Liberty.
Asking if they could come back the next day,
we were trading our bracelets in for a TWO DAY pass,
and looking for a suitable hotel. Just because, financially, we could.

I promise: no dream-blog, nothing excessively long.

I am just wondering: Would Christians read this site?

Saturday, February 19, 2005

Sound Bites from What I've Been Working on Today

WS100–Exam II
Study Guide

1.“It never occurred to them [surgical physicians] that his woman had a sexual life at all, because she was in a wheelchair.” (Galler 108)



5. “People can get lost in virtual worlds. Some are tempted to think of life in cyberspace as insignificant, as an escape or meaningless diversion. It is not. Our experiences there are serious play. We belittle them at our own risk.” (Turkle 358)



6. “Does this ability to hide identifying characteristics [in cyberspace]“level the playing field,” creating new opportunities for equality among female and male participants? Does gender identity become more fluid under these circumstances?” (Kendall 359)



8. “And although the undercover policewoman felt horrible and powerless when he kissed her and fondled her breasts, she wrote in her report that she wasn’t sure if his actions were criminal.” (Hugs 417)



11. “The use of alcohol to obtain sex from women is pervasive–in other words, it is used as a weapon against sexual reluctance.” (Martin & CO. 393)
12. “Myth: Sexual harassment is harmless. Women who object have no sense of humor.” (Sandler 420)



15. “Like the term ‘nigger,’ ‘bitch’ serves the social function of isolating and discrediting a class of people who do not conform to the socially accepted patterns of behavior.” (Joreen 214)



16. “A woman should be proud to declare she is a Bitch, because Bitch is Beautiful. It should be an act of affirmation by itself and not a negation by others.” (Joreen 214)


Some times I love my job.

Friday, February 18, 2005

State Bias, According to Orientation

DMB brings up a good point--what kindof state biases do we share?
What expectations might we have
of people coming from, say, Alabama, Colorado, Indianna, Rhode Island,
Wyoming, Kansas, Kentucky, New Jersey, Maryland, Oregon, Deleware, Dakota (North or South) . . .

How often does it snow in the mountains?

Why do I feel as if I know a little bit about a person
when I know their geographical origins?
because of cultural origins as well?

if so, which state is at the top of the hierarchy? and why?
oh, oh, and which state is at the bottom?

if I told you my POV (point-of-view)
then you would know for sure--

I'm Feeling Nauseated--Again?

What type of bug is this?
A biological attack from Iran, Syria, or North Korea?
Has our water been contaminated?

It must be the chocolate. With my 3rd meal since Tuesday morning,
I dared a chocolate cookie afterward.

Never again.

I think there has been an attack on our saturated fats.
Who should I call? What to do?

Thank You Laurie Krebs and Julia Cairns

Because everyone should know how to count in Swahili:

moja (mo-jah)

mbili (m-bee-lee)

tatu (ta-too)

nne (n-nay)

tano (tah-no)

sita (see-tah)

saba (sah-bah)

nane (nah-nay)

tisa (tee-sah)

kumi (koo-mee)


Wouldn't it be beautiful to live in Tanzania for 4-6 weeks?

Save Your Post to the ClipBoard

Blogger Buddy IS acting weird; I'm sure
to be the last to think of this,
but save your new post to your clip board
right before you try to publish. Saves hair.

Tastes and Aromas

I am no brand loyalist by any means,
and I am sure to never see one Euro from this,
but I must say Crest Extreme Herbal Mint rocks my world.

As a new product from Crest's "Whitening Expressions,"
I find that it really works! To download coupons please
click here. Just kidding. Still can't create links. And
my last post on comics sure could have used some cool ones.

I never worried about how white my smile was until
my mum-in-law suggest that I drink coffee from a straw.
She's always trying to bring me down.

But Crest Extreme Herbal Mint really works >ping<--just in a matter of days!

Also, I like to smell like pears whenever I can. And/or cuccumbers.

News From My Local Paper

Comics I Will Read (and in specific order):

Zits (Why? I dunno. Am I ashamed? Kindof.)
Fox Trot (I know--more kids!)
Dilbert (Getting pretty lame though.)

Comics I WIll Read If Delayed In the Bathroom:

Classic Peanuts (I really hate this comic actually.)
Tina's Groove (Has NEVER made me laugh or think, "yeah.")
Family Circus (Can't help it--spatially my eye is drawn to it.)
Dennis the Menace (Can I use the word Hate 2x w/o sounding like a bad person?)


Comics That Make Me Scream in Frustration, or Yawn in Boredom,
Yet I Must Read Them Anyway
:

Hagar the Horrible (Why does this comic exist? Who is the fan base? Evolve d*mnit.)
Crankshaft (The grumpy old man's face IS funny looking. I'm so ageist.)
Funky Winkerbean (WTF?)
Beetle Bailey (will never die. Die!)
Garfield (Garfield! How tricksy! Few words in little bubbles always coax me in.
But I hates it, I hates it my precious.)
For Better or For Worse (Uh, worse.)
Blondie (How unoriginal can you be and still get paid?)
and last but not least . . . . .

Get Fuzzy! (How I loath this comic! 1. I almost never, never understand it. 2. I hate cats. Well, I like the actual animals, but I hate the way our culture has appropriated their furry little bodies to represent everything I h*te that is human. 3. My partner is way too smug when reading this comic & acts all 'ahead of the game.' 4. Fuzzy cults in my area are responsible for traffic jams, ozone depletion, cold toilet seats, and snot. Also a host of other ills I couldn't possibly name at this time. It's just wrong. Wrong I tell you. And sinister. I will get to the bottom of this.

Old News is No News

Ummmm . . . why am I still reading headlines like "Monkey Controls Robotic Arm with Brain"? Like, duh. I heard that on NPR weeks and weeks ago.

Nothing's new.

I need this snow to thall.

Oh my gersh! I just "monkey" posted again---arg!

Thursday, February 17, 2005

GMail is so Wrong

Also, stealing & copying this excerpt from my partner's email draft is too:

[You've just been gifted, GIFTED I SAY! with an email from my brand SPANKING new gmail account.

That's right wh*res I scored an invitation to the infamous gmail and you are left in the cold.

I'll ]

So, what's up with GMail?

Who cares about another email sever from Google anyway? So it has 10X the space. blah blah blah. So you have to be invited to be a beta tester. blah blah blah.

I miss the good old days when google was the best known secret . . .

Two Cups of Soup Later

About 8 years ago I heard the rudest remark fly out from a "friend's" mouth concerning his wife's performance in bed:

"She's great out of the barn, but no endurance." Snicker, snicker.

This comment has haunted me for years. What a metaphor. For some twisted reason, I want to aplly this to my profession: I make a dazzling first impression, but do I have the follow through?


Also, please note that life _does_ actually crumble when you are ill.
The body lays in bed, yet the personal relationships built around this body continue about the day in all apparent innocence--reconnecting, refortifing, laughing-- without you.
Certain chores will not be done. No one will wipe the toothpaste off the sink, put away the vegtables into the crisper, sign, date, and place the contracts in the mail.
These burdens will, indeed, pile up and attempt to overwhelm you as soon as you swing your miss-matched socks out of bed, onto the floor littered in kleenxes.

Yesterday, when I awoke from a late afternoon nap, I noticed that it was 5:30 and still light outside. I decided to live.

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

Bi-polar with a Quirky Sense of Humor

Bit red-faced.


Actually, yesterday started off great, even feeling a bit spunky with those first few posts of the day--then at precisely 12:30, right when I was lecturing I might add, I felt a sudden, er, um, rumbly in my tumbly.

Just now, at 2:04 the next day, am I able to slither out of bed and type this post with shaking fingers--darn Porkorama! You gave me the bug. Cold chills, headache, sore throat, the works.

Sorry no follow through with the Monkey blogs, can't manage linear thought at the moment--didn't mean to pull a Tinkerbell either (that type of crap ticks me off). >Red Faced again.<

Must get well . . . can't . . . let . . . students have a day . . . off . . . my squirrley plans for them . . . will . . . collaps . . .

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

Blogging Suicide

Great--I've committed blogging suicide.

Just when I google my blog and finally find something--BAM--I knock the monkey and am confined to the silence of BlackBall.

Two hours and not a d*mn post. Sh*t.
Wasn't it SpongeBob's greatest lament?
Just when I thought I had everybody on my side,
I ripped my pants.



Did no one understand my _The Fence_ project? or was it simply to banal?

I'm otta here.

Who Has Authority?

Who has authority?
And--why?

Monkey Shines

Ok, I admitt, I was flattered. A first-rate blogger like monkey scratches at my door. Perhaps I'd get linked. yadda yadda.

But then you have to ask yourself:
what's so funny about the word/animal "monkey"?
Use it in phrases like: Pet my monkey; take me out to the monkey; now back to the monkey; here's monkey; feed the monkey; she's such a monkey; I've got to go to the monkey; this monkey smells sweet; did you check the monkey? And the word monkey becomes mundane.

Yet, I do have a monkey pic on this site.

What's the facination with monkey? Bucky wants to eat a monkey.
Our culture is saturated in monkey. I'm flattered by a monkey?

This is wrong. All wrong. wrong wrong wrong.

But this monkey can type.
In short bursts of wit and fun, the monkey can type
a blog like no monkey's business.

Don't think I am stroking the monkey though--
I have to wonder how this monkey is afforded the luxuray
of being witty all day
while managing such mundane chores as environmental cleanliness,
culunary nutrition, acceptable clothing, meaningful education, various social obligations, among sexual duties,
for an entire family?

Monday, February 14, 2005

Even Fictional Films Teach Cultural Expectations

I have abducted a new noun/verb: annotation/annotating.

In the Film and Writing class I am currently teaching, I use the verb to describe the following process:

Annotation--the written practice of articulating the precise work of the camera's positioning and the frame's mise-en-scene during a single shot or brief sequence, used to speculate on the significance of each director's choice as related to key themes and elements found in the film.

A bit jarbled, I know. 9:33; one, thick cup of nasty-*ss joe down the pipes.

My students relish the concept that films/movies become a part of our "learned experiences."
Their narratives exploring which films have worked to establish cultural "norms" are exciting.
The pre-writing they do about their expectations of certain films is astonishing;
for example one student said she expected a "ghetto" film when viewing _Bamboozled_,
and another student expected a film about prostitution when _Run Lola Run_ was introduced.
Facinating.

Thank You Reuters

Did the Teacher Say to Put Your Tongue in My Mouth?
Mon Feb 14, 9:15 AM ET Oddly Enough - Reuters


By Linda Thomas

SEATTLE (Reuters) - There's more to a kiss than meets the lips, as couples are learning at a kissing school in Seattle.

Psychotherapist Cherie Byrd, 56, got the idea for teaching kissing classes while dating a man who was a horrible kisser.


"Yuck. He was clumsy, unskilled and half-hearted," Byrd said. "I told him if he wanted the relationship to continue he had to let me teach him to kiss."


The boyfriend didn't last, but Byrd, a self-described "luscious kisser," said that gave her the idea to teach the art and craft of kissing to other couples. Since 1998, more than 500 couples have paid $275 to learn Byrd's secrets for giving or receiving a passionate kiss.


On a typical class day, up to a dozen couples create "love nests" with sleeping bags and overstuffed pillows on the carpeted floor of the classroom.


Each class begins with foot rubs, back-to-back dancing and tender kisses on the hand. Students slowly graduate to neck nibbles, ear exploration and finally lip locks.


As Byrd guides couples through exercises, such as kissing only the bottom lip or licking an ear, soft music plays. In a calm, breathy voice she tells them to "tease, surrender and risk" touching their partner in ways they've never tried before.


Most are married and in their late 30s to mid-50s. Some couples have come from as far away as Africa, Korea and cities all over the United States, Byrd said.


Byrd's school, simply titled "Kissing School," appears to be the only one of its kind, although there are Web sites that offer kissing tips and techniques. Several books also cover the subject, including one by Byrd.


"We're basically clueless," Byrd said. "It's more than a smashing of lips." Byrd says that more important than technique is the connection between two people.


"It's hard to truly connect with your beloved in our society because we're in such a hurry," she explained. "Multi-tasking leads to sorry, sloppy smooches."


While most students at Seattle's Kissing School are couples, singles are also welcome to take classes, provided they don't mind kissing total strangers.


Gary Getz and Lorrie Clemens, married for nine months, flew from their home outside Palo Alto, California to Seattle to attend a kissing school on Saturday.


"It was Lorrie's idea to take the class," Getz said. "But I certainly benefit from her interest."


Getz said he resisted his wife's suggestion of going to a kissing school at first. And after completing the day-long class, he reported that he was somewhat disappointed.


"As a guy, I thought it would be more technical," Getz explained, "The put your hand here and pucker up this way kind of thing."


But he added quickly, "It was very enjoyable."

Other than an occasional, muted "yes" coming from the couple in the corner of the room, there was no conversation until the end of the kissing exercises. Each partner was then asked to rate the other's kiss on a scale of one to 10. One is "not so good" while 10 is a kiss that "sweeps you off your feet." After a brief discussion, the couples went at it again to try to improve their scores.

Getz and Clemens rated each other's kisses at 9.9. "We want to keep on practicing," Clemens said.

The instructor's top tip for creating a kiss that is satisfying and sensual is to slow down. "Men in particular rush through kisses and let their minds wander too much," Byrd said. "A kiss is really a gift of your heart. It's your energy transferred to another person's body."

Although the class is very intimate, Byrd has never had couples go too far with their kisses. The room, in an old school building, is well lighted and not the most comfortable place to get carried away, even with the fluffy pillows and blankets.

Only one couple failed the class in Byrd's opinion. "One guy thought he knew everything and didn't need any lessons," Byrd said. "I feel for his poor wife."

As couples left Saturday's class, hair tousled and in search of lip balm, Byrd went home to an empty house. The kissing school teacher is not married and at the moment doesn't have a boyfriend.

End Story

For my friend who thinks I'm from Washington: xoxox.

Those Crazy NY Parks

Goodwill makes rags from nonsalable, donated clothing; I shall take these rags, along with recycled walmart blue bags,
and tie them mid-way upon the chain link fences here in Xtown, eastside,
to blow in the gentle rolling smog of our towering paper mill . . . all monies received from _The Fence_ project shall be donated to the thrice-failed school levy . . . .

Sunday, February 13, 2005


Soon it will be spring and we can all return to the parks--that is if the city continues to keep them open. Our state is also considering a vehicle fee for State run Parks. I have mixed feelings about this: Where will all the poor peole go? Not every one can really afford amusement parks, movies, or malls; some can barely afford gas money to drive to a green area. I understand that nothing is free. Not sun, nor trees . . . but who suffers? children. But I guess not our children . . . Posted by Hello

So, IF I did have a twelve year old daughter, that would suggest that I lived through some sortof teen pregnancy, perhaps with a gay man who didn't come out for the first 4 years of the relationship--2 already into a broken marriage . . .

Then I'd be sitting around this very Sunday morning,
waiting for him to play the old part of shared parenting,
pick her up for lunch, a movie, and shopping--
only to tell me later tonight that he is ready to "come out"
to her--
even if she'd only be starting 7th grade
in a new school
without many friends
having a tough time of her own.

And I would be angry.
Not so much b/c of his sexuality,
but b/c of his personality.
The way he was never a father;
no spelling words,
no bike rides,
no anything difficult or troublesome.

And now to trust him, w/her 60+ miles a way in a metropolis?? Overnight?

I would say no, and she would understand. But look haunted.

No More HW the Rest of the Quarter

I need a job.
I need to get paid more
for doing much less.

Any ideas blog genie?

I Do Get Paid to Read

I get paid to read people's writings--but is it enough?
Nine more journals to go.
Twenty formal papers + journals for ENG152.

I never want to read again.

The Shame

I think I am becoming the worst mixture
of blogger/blogging yet:

I'm having difficulty reading longer blogs--
yet my own blogs are increasing in length.

How embarrassing.

Saturday, February 12, 2005

What, No Time to Blog??

I hate it when people tell me their dreams.
As if the deepest parts of their subconscious should be
fair game for discussion? Please. And it almost never makes sense.
The way people tell their dreams that is.
Perhaps I got burned by this old woman
who always shared her dreams, daily, with me over the phone.
I would be sorting bills, cleaning the bathroom mirror,
having sex, or changing the cat litter, when she'd call and start
the conversation with: I had the strangest dream . . . And, in fact,
it would not be strange at all. Simply boring. I once took a Medieval Lit
seminar as a graduate student where we analyzed medieval dreams;
I've also studied a bit of Freud; and I've seen plenty of dream sequences in films I can't remember at the moment--what does it all suggest?
As a culture we are obsessed with dreams & I believe it is b/c
dreams are a _visual_ manifestation of our creativity that simply
takes no work at all . . .

I had the strangest dream the other night. It was spring/summer time.
I sat in the living room at the end of our coffee table with
a paper in front of me. To my right was my partner, to my left sat those
twin boys. A twelve year old daughter sat at the table with me. Behind us, the
television was on, perhaps playing some cartoons.

The daughter reached over and gave me her finger, her pointer finger, to glue onto the card. Yes, allow me to stress--her fricken finger!--it was not attached to her hand. In fact, it was UNattached. A body part. Not attached to a body. Yet, she did this quite casually even. And, in the dream, this was not stange to me. After all, this was a Halloween card we were sending out to family.

I looked around and my entire little family sat there holding their bloodless, little fingers,
waiting for me to glue them onto the card. Again, no blood. But let me tell you, this dream was _real_. The texture of the air, the slant of the sunlight. I wasn't dreaming. I looked over at my partner, who also sat with a finger.

I looked at the finger the daughter had given me. Around the edge, it was turning black and blue. Black and blue. Perhaps a bit green. I shouted: "This won't re-attach!! Hey--this won't re-attach! We didn't put it on ice!" The children just looked at me, mildly surprised and growing confused. I shouted at my partner: "You told them it would grow back??"

I stood up and began to shove my way through our house. My vision was canted. I grasped the counter. "Oh God, this is not a dream." I made it out the back door and into our yard.

Sunny day. Except a huge green pavilion cover the back yard, covered the sky. My partner had followed me. I spun around and slapped my partner. "They won't grow back. We can't re-attach them. How could you let me do this? How, how?"

Standing, still holding a finger, my partner tells me: "Because I love you. I just want you to be happy."

Thursday, February 10, 2005

Eeeeeeeeeek!

Yikes--so I check my blog occasionally at work--no biggie, right??

WRONG!

The address bar! the d*amn address bar! so, if you scroll down on it--up pops squirrleymojo.blogwhatever.com!

How can I get this off my PCs at work?? I share this space with peers!
[btw. "they" check out boring stuffing at work: ebay, americanexpress, and google--that's it. perhaps they really don't know how to use a PC for detective work??
am I giving myself and fellow bloggers away even more??]

I cannot let this posting get out--people who know me would, well, so KNOW me!

Blogsquad Unite! or Activate!

What I mean is: Help me figure out how to erase my fingerprints!

and also, can we say North Korea??? and Prince Charles. and my blogging identity--all in the same day. . .

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

Are Most Bloggers Exhausted?

Teaching 3 college courses in one day is no small feat--I need to recognize that or face the threat of insanity.

Last night, by the time I made it to my ENG152 class, I was, well, pretty fried. I broke the group into small groups in order to hash/slash our way through a really tough essay on Eurocentricism. I've noticed that I am stuttering/slurring in my speech occasionally in this last class of the day (I rarely eat lunch or dinner on these days--can we say protein?).

Last night, before I knew it, one student came up to my desk and asked me how to pronounce "synecologically" and to explain what it meant. I have a weird complex/acute awareness with/of my speech capabilities as it is, and at 6:30pm with a foggy-fried brain, I'll let you imagine the awkwardness.

But the one thing I have learned as an English teacher at a mid-sized U is to speak with utter confidence no matter what the circumstance. Forget about "correctness." Once again, I think I "passed."

Little More Cheery Please

Last night, on my trek home across the great state of _______, all of the roadkill looked like giant possums. Freaky. Especially the deer on the side of the road.
And a great big thanks to Swampy for letting me know just how many teeth those frisky critters have. As if I couldn't feel their little rubbery claws scratching down my back as it were . . .

I should be on the phone right now talking with Habitat for Humanity. I am the volunteer editor for their bi-monthly news letter in this region and I haven't spoken with them since before Christmas--how long can I avoid them?

Streamers are tacky.

Check out what Deborah Tannen has to say about Gender Communication sometime. She has a video, _He Said, She Said_, that is rather dull and uninspired.

Wow--anyone else out there have incredibly mixed feelings about Rice visiting Europe? She seems so swanky in Paris--what's up?

Our school levy failed. It will be back up again in two months. I suspect next time it will pass by "two votes" just like an older one did last fall. Can I just sign over half my paycheck over to federal, state, and local government and have some peace?

My favorite soups right now are cream of potato & I love coffee shop smoothies. I've deloped a small muscle pain in my right hip when I exercise. Do twixters have single strands of grey hair in the front??!? At the young, young age of _____? I thought redheads didn't go grey??? And is it grey or gray?

Did anyone celebrate Mardi Gras? Weird holiday--"devilery" right before lent?

Cheers!

My PC, My Prosthetic

Is my PC becoming a sort of prosthetic, an extention of myself, my body,
designed to help me with this disability?

Or will it prove to be a crutch that eventually
hampers my social adjustment even more?

Every since the accident, daily living has never been the same.
The funny thing is, I cannot pinpoint the time/place of the accident;
could it be:

1. When KFB laughed at me in the 2nd grade lunch room saying, "_____ doesn't chew with ____ mouth closed!!"?

2. When I slammed the front door, at 18, and trudged up that small-town hill in my RAX uniform. Desperate to reconcilliate with my highschool partner, I broke all ties with my family for over 10 years?

3. When I stood alone, holding the black receiver to my ear only to hear the word 'abortion' for the second time that day?

4. When the face of the clock struck 2:27pm and I knew, for a split moment, that I could honestly turn back, stop, and leave the church building? but didn't?

5. or when, and this must be it, at the Day of the Move, when every single soul I knew at the time, came over--unexpectedly--to our house and loaded up/packed up drawers of my undergarments and saw what was under my couch, my fridge, my bed--only to learn of our dreaded, contagious disease. We never really saw 1/2 of them again.



Do you know who you are reading?

Monday, February 07, 2005

I'm Such a Hack

Barely survived this weekend.
My house was fireballed. To the max.

Found an opposum in my trash can. Completely wigged out.
Graded all midterms and hacked at their grades with little to no enthusiasm.

Plan to show a horrendous "educational" film tomorrow,
because I simply cannot pull it together.
The music in it makes me cringe.

Did see _House of Flying Daggers_; what a terrific love story.
Georgeous mise-en-scene.

Must do laundry soon, or go naked. A bit too chilly for that.
Must grade journals--grade journals! Why did I assign them??
Must find an easier way.

BTW--All of the United States' economic hardships evolve, revolve
around the medical profession/health care. All of them--oil is a red herring.
Environment, smenvironment. The "rising cost of health care" is trickling down, down, down blasting the consumer, which in turn is boomeranging its way back up.
But what to do? Free health? No way!

I had sex in a car, on the freeway, this weekend.
That should make life better (?).
But, mysteriously, I feel guilty?

Too much to feel guilty about these days.

If it was Twin A's bday today, he would have smiled as I pretended to take a picture with the camera battery dead . . . the kids from Twin B's kindergarten room would have Oooh'ed and Aaah'ed as we brought in the yellow cupcakes with oreos and smiley-face party favors . . .
Perhaps I should give up being a Twixter?

I was offered a job at the writing center at my U. Measly pay 9did I tell that already?). Honestly.
Could use it for experience for 1 year, then go out and get my own writing center.
Probably end up in Appalachia . . .
I need a job. A real job.

The opposum was scary. Really scary.
My town is collasping in on itself.
Another school levy is up tomorrow.
Why not vote yes? I don't own . . . anything much.
And that's the way I like it.


Friday, February 04, 2005

Went Fishing and Got a HATER

Wow--check out my "Red, Orange, Yellow" Post.

My first real wack-job. Kindof scarey, if you follow it to its origins. Real Jack the Ripper.

Why do I feel violated? For real? Teaching this shit, then experiencing it is always two different things.

This guy could be right next door.

WTF's Wrong W/My Blog?

Why's it all messed up like this??
I haven't touched anything--it looks stupid now.

I don't want to play with a stupid blog.
I don't have time for this sh**.

stupid blog anyway . . .

10 More to Go

Only 10 more essays to go and now the guilt.

Did I give these two guys (ironic isn't it?) in my class inflated grades because I am flattered by their engagement in class?

If my neck didn't hurt so badly, I'd review their essays . . .
but then I do have 10 more to go before midnight.

Tommorrow--it's off to the CheeseCake Factory and b-day presents
at Toys will/be US.
We found a Fireball B-day Cake (we'll just take off the plastic Harley bike).

Imaginary wolverines are so much better than real ones.

Ironic, Don't cha Think

*************************************************************************************


So, the leaders from the UN
are the "real" people
dipping from the Oil Profits
in Iraq.

Imagine that. The sanctity of the UN might be soiled.

Scott Bakula

hiiihhhh-hiiigggg--hhhaaaa

chuckle-chuckle--snort snort.


Well, there are no vowels in the English language for the sound that comes after my own personal "H" when I laugh, or consonants found after said vowel.
So much for onomatopoeia.

Forgive Me

While surfing,
I just saw a picture of Scott Bakula on the deck of some Strek ship.

I am still laughing out loud.

Why is this picture so funny?

It's really not. Don't waste your time. But really:

http://www.cnn.com/2005/SHOWBIZ/TV/02/03/television.startrek.reut/index.html


Stress will do this, so I've heard. I feel so childish.

JUST IN

By MICHELLE LOCKE, Associated Press Writer

BERKELEY, Calif. - Shaken by scandals involving the black-market sale of body parts, University of California officials are considering inserting supermarket-style barcodes or radio frequency devices in cadavers to keep track of them.

Essay Update

I've graded 11 essays and have about 20(?) to go.
Before mid-night.

Sadly, the grades are getting higher and higher. I suspect b/c I am reading quickly and not as critically. Most answers from this particular class are so surface that when I see an average one, I freak with "EXCELLENT WORK!!!" Some of these people
should not be getting the grade I'm giving--
but I screwed up my grading system and ended up w/50+ bonus points. Ha.

I'm so sick of reading all of these homogenous answers & especially:

"Yeah, Higgenbothem's essays shows that women are not just objects. Like my friend who is February's pin-up . . ."

or

"So true. Because I am a model. When I go to a shoot, they cake me in make-up. Airbrush my picture. So, I know these girls are NOT perfect . . ."

Someone FireBall me and put me down.

Save the Baby Rhinos

I just realized something:

Pepperoni--especially the little ones served on pizzas--
are made from a sliced-up baby rhino's horn.

Seriously. How did I not see it before?


X marks the spot. Finally, I've captured those little spots I've seen in front of my eyes . . . the eXplosion of my brain on essays . . . I haven't graded one yet today. Posted by Hello

Blog-o-Rama!

Woo-woo another weekend full of Blog-anation (blog=procrastination)!

It's easy: just keep this window open on your PC at all times.
Blog at will.

If you are insecure, open another window to WordPerfect. Copy, Paste, and Spell Check said blog onto WordPerfect. Then your words are, erm, perfect.

Do a load of laundry.
Blog.
Have a cup of Jo.
Blog.
Check the mail.
Blog.
Call a friend.
Blog.
Change a diaper.
Blog.
Shop for groceries.
Blog.
Have sex.
Blog.
Say your prayers.
Blog.
Shower and sleep.
Blog.
Pop a painkiller.
Blog.
Blog.
Blog.

Let Me Not Revert to Teenyisms

Oh-my.

That last blog was absolutely, boarder-line teen angst.
Wouldn't you agree?


Update: My U experienced a "midnight/stranger" Rape (the only kind that ever gets attention). Sophomore in X Building, working on an art portfolio at 2:00am. Ironic--given our topic this week. Horribly. The discussion in class yesterday was exhausting. Why should women have a curfew?

Red, Orange, Yellow

Fire Ball.

I sit amid a heap of FireBall paraphernalia.
Without getting scorched.
Without even being warm.

Wondering what it will all mean, all bring, come Sunday.

If I had a daughter, she would play N. Rimsky-Korsakov's "Song of India," which is sung by the Hindu Merchant in the opera "Sadko," on her viola.

If only I didn't sit
under an umbrella of 36 BlueBook essay exams . . .

I love you dear Blog screen, dear Blog screen, dear Blog screen.
Reflect back the fantasy of my reality.

I'm Just No Fun

Flirtatious, I mean.

Bouncy. Energetic. I use to be those things.

I once had a way of looking at someone directly into his/her eye
that would make her/him smile, grin and look away . . .

Thursday, February 03, 2005

If I Ever

If, IF, I did ever
have children,
I'm sure it would be 8:12am in the morning,
and I would STILL be tieing my soon-to-be
six year old twin's boots!

Instead of blogging
or getting dressed for work,
or drying my hair.

Comment on My Comments?

Should I be commenting on my comments?
Am I being rude?
Undeserving?
Yet again?

I know I should click on the "email me when I get a comment" button,
but there is just something sweetly narcissistic about
scrolling through all of my old posts
and rereading my own writing--finding a new comment now and then.

Makes me feel like my work (may I use the term ever so loosely) has a life of its own--
these posts aren't simply dead when a new post replaces it . . .

If I commented on my comments, then I would be creating a dialogue.
Under the current administration, I think that may be frowned on.
And what would be self-pleasure seeking about that?

btw--I am breaking my own rules; I looked up "narcissistic" on spellcheck--d*mn, I thought this would be a space where I never worried . . .

Wednesday, February 02, 2005


SquirrleyMojo did NOT see its shadow today--doesn't that count for anything? Posted by Hello


In your face feminist? Posted by Hello


Look what I found in the snow. Posted by Hello

Live Puppets

So I'm thinking about using "Liberty Tax Sevice";
it's a company with people in costumes across our town.
You know, women dressed up as the Statue of Liberty . . .
men as Uncle Sam. [Hey, they get $7 an hour.]

But there is something wrong w/Liberty in a long, mauve knitted scarf and glasses.
Not to mention the fact they I am thinking about turning my taxes
over to a company using live puppets . . .

What sealed the deal for me was this coupon
I just got in the mail for "$20 OFF TAX Preparation."

Tuesday, February 01, 2005

WS100 NewsFlash

The 18-22 year-old-priveleged votes are in:

both men and women at my U feel like RAPE isn't really a problem;
women are asking for it anyway.