Monthly Archives: December 2011

Breaking news

I can’t look at the headlines anymore; they scare me and make me sad.  So I’m making up a news story of my own, front page above the fold:

Adorable Child Plays With Happy Puppies

Image via Wikipedia

In a shocking turn of events, young Abigail I’msocute approached a group of rambunctious puppies and quickly become embroiled in uncontrolled frolicking.  Ms. I’msocute, 2 years old, was unarmed at the time and appeared unsteady on her feet.  The mob of unruly hounds was observed furtively sniffing at her hands and appeared, according to one witness, to be soliciting treats.

The infant’s mother, Mrs. Amelia Lookatme, could only watch the drama unfold as her child romped, giggled, and shrieked in truly blood-curdling fashion,  at times covering her face with her hands, then suddenly pulling her hands away in jerky, agitated movements and yelling to the puppies that she could see them.  It is unknown whether Ms. Imsocute was later able to identify any of the malefactors for the authorities.  Onlookers described them as unusually small, dark, and fuzzy wuzzy.

Lookatme was eventually able to reach I’msocute and separate her from the unrestrained animals.  She later commented to the paper, “Those puppies were so adorable, I just wanted to cry.”  Both Lookatme and I’msocute appeared to be unharmed, but were clearly affected by the experience.  When contacted for a response, the attorney for the puppies declined comment, merely wagging his tail and gazing soulfully at the reporter.  More on this harrowing attack of adorability as details become available.

I expect a call from the Pulitzer committee any day now.

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If I only had a dog

Why a blind skydiving club would be awesome:

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Little blind girl goes to the art gallery

CC Image courtesy of iambents on Flickr

Remember that post where I said that if you’re taking me on a date, don’t take me to an art gallery because I’m legally blind and I won’t be able to see anything?  I take it back.  I went with Potential Boy Friend to a college art exhibit and found that art has changed quite a bit even since the last time I attempted to appreciate it, or at least I think it has:

 

LBG:  I’m really not sure about this.  I can’t see any of the paintings.

PBF:  That’s OK, I’ll describe them to you.  And some of them aren’t paintings.

LBG:  Photographs?

PBF:  Modern art exhibits.  There’s one that’s a collage of old heating bills in the shape of Paris Hilton.  It’s titled, “That’s Hot!”

LBG:  Very funny!  You are kidding, right?

PBF:  All the yellow highlighted bits that say “This bill is overdue” form her hair extensions.  There’s another that’s just an empty frame, entitled “Occupy This Space.”

LBG:  That I might actually believe.

PBF:  It’s listed for $7500.00.

LBG:  Not buying it in so many ways.

PBF:  Over here is a portrait of a young man in cap and gown who appears to be signing a student loan contract, while a man in a business suit stands over him holding a baby.  Let’s see what the title is–

LBG:  This should be good–

PBF:  Ah, Sale of a First-Born Child.  A striking commentary on a post-modern society.

LBG:  It speaks to me.

PBF:  And here we have a sculpture of a woman in a pose of agony, clutching a large group of children to her while staring at an envelope.

LBG:  Let me guess:  “Final Welfare Check”?

PBF:  Close:  “Niobe’s Child Care Bill Arrives.”

LBG:  I like mine better.  (Peers more closely at card with title of work)  Oh, my God!

PBF:  You totally thought I was making that up.

LBG:  Oh, my God.

PBF:  And I haven’t even told you about the woman sitting in a harness hanging from the ceiling.

LBG:  Don’t tell me.

PBF:  Her harness rises and falls with the current level of the stock market.

LBG:  Oh, my God, get me out of here!

And thus ends the latest installment in the adventures of the Little Blind Girl.  Stay tuned for the next exciting episode, Little Blind Girl goes to the Firing Range!

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Mountain Dew, you’ve let me down

CC Image courtesy of Ed Yourdon on Flickr

I stepped out of my apartment today to run across the street and buy a soda at the convenience store.  I’d been doing housework, so I was in jeans and a sweatshirt, no makeup, hair not done at all.  On the way to the store, about a two minute walk, I got no fewer than two wolf whistles, a car horn honk with a remark I’m not going to repeat, and a “Hey, shortie!”  I was thinking, man, these must be some good jeans!

So I bought the soda and walked back toward my apartment–and nothing.  It was like the soda made me drop 20 hotness points.  What is it, guys?  Does a Mountain Dew make you think I’m too high-maintenance?  Did you take it as a sign of unhealthy eating and eventual obesity?  Or did I just walk out after all the traffic cleared up?  A friend of mine used to jog alongside a major road, and she would always get comments and whistles.  One day she didn’t, and she sulked until the next time someone yelled something lewd out of a car.  Man, the pitfalls of being a girl.

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The cat vs. the Hair

CC Image by red.dalia on Flickr

A friend of mine, who is beautiful and awesome and brilliant and all sorts of good things, is also the proud possessor of a head of very, very curly hair.  It’s the kind of hair that has so much body that you sort of suspect it of also having an independent mind–you know, working in tandem with the brain under her scalp, but occasionally going off and doing its own thing on, for example, rainy days.  Another couple of friends of mine are the proud owners of two cats with very defined personalities and certain ideas about the hierarchy in the household.  Our theory is that they’re only putting up with us until they figure out how to work the can opener.  In the meantime, though, they like to make sure they can jump on everything in the household in some sort of bizarre, repetitive exhibition of feline dominance.  I’ve given you all the pieces; can you figure out where this is going?

My Curly-Haired Friend was at the cat-owned apartment hanging out one night.  We were just kicking back, practicing Latin (no, seriously, that’s what we were doing.  That’s not at all code for something else).  Curly-Haired Friend was sitting on the floor, yelling Latin declensions; cats were prowling the furniture.  I looked away for a second and then I heard this almighty yowling, and then an extremely Anglo-Saxon shriek.  I looked back, and one of the cats had jumped onto my friend’s head and was attacking her hair!  Just jumped from whatever piece of furniture and seemed to be fighting the hair from six different angles at once.  I think he saw it as an enemy and was trying to subdue it.  My friends and I could have told him that was a hopeless battle, having watched our Curly-Haired Friend fight with her hair for years, but the cats never consult us when they make their plans.

Now, this is not just any hair.  This is Hair with experience, possibly with combat training. The Hair started fighting back.  Poor Curly-Haired Friend was letting out ungodly shrieks from underneath while the cat and the Hair battled it out on her head.  Eventually, the Hair forced the cat to jump off onto the floor, partly assisted by the mere mortals who were weakened by uncontrollable laughter, but mostly it was the Hair.  The cat immediately scooted off to some dark recess of the kind where cats go and licked his wounds, and I swear, I swear, the Hair started purring.  Neither of the cats has ever challenged the Hair’s dominance again.  We had to finish the Latin another night, though.  The Hair told us to.  And you do not mess with the Hair.

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True or False?

By Leonetto CappielloPublic domain via Wikimedia Commons.

One of the bad things about blogs is that there are those who know who you are in real life and read your blog for the express purpose of being able to cause trouble for you down the road.  I don’t want to stop writing this blog just because a few people are being immature.  I figure that, if I stop this blog, they’ll just be immature about something else, and I’m not going to live my life according to what other people might think.

So I’m going to make this statement:  Some, but not all, of the information on this blog is true.  Some of it, but not all of it, happened to me.  Some of it happened to other people.  Some of it I’m making up wholesale.  So gather dirt at your pleasure.  You may or may not be reading complete works of fiction.  You want to cause trouble, you’re going to have to find another way.  Pick on my grammar, maybe, or how I use too many commas.  If you’re trying to use my blog against me, you’re already pretty much at that level, so it shouldn’t be a stretch.

In that spirit, I’m going to play a round of Two Truths and a Lie.  Or am I playing Two Lies and a Truth?  Or maybe they’re all lies, or they’re all true.  They’re just here for a laugh, like my other posts.  Take it for what it is, not for what you want to make it into:

1.  I climbed onto the clock tower at one of my old schools and carved my initials in the back of the clock.  I thought it was high time!

2.  I once toured Europe as part of a band.

3.  I have a tattoo of a scorpion on a part of my body normally covered by clothes.

Whatcha gonna do with that?  And for all the readers and commenters and followers who genuinely like my blog, you rock, and you’re most of the reason I’m not just taking this blog down.  I love hearing from you.  Keep it coming!  Feel free to leave a comment with your own contributions of two truths and a lie.  I promise I will never use them against you!

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