Monthly Archives: February 2012

Quiz! Why do Mondays suck so bad?

A toddler girl crying

It’s been a while since the last quiz, so I thought I’d do another one.  Today’s topic, fittingly, is Mondays.  Many songs have been written about Mondays.  For a lot of people, Monday is the beginning of the work week, the end of that bliss known as the weekend, and some have been known to complain about how hard it is to get up for work on Monday morning. No one ever really sings about Wednesdays, possibly because it’s a little hard to rhyme, also because it’s hard to spell.  So here’s the quiz.  Post your results!  Tell me what questions and answers I should have included but didn’t!  I always like to hear about what you take away from the blog.

A.  How was your Monday?

  1. Don’t talk to me.  Just, don’t talk to me.
  2. I’ve had worse
  3. Are you kidding?  I finally got away from the family, it was awesome!
  4. I love Mondays, I get to wear my purple Monday socks.
  5. Wait, it’s Monday?

B.  True or False:  Rainy days and Mondays always get you down.

  1. True
  2. False
  3. I like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain
  4. Monday, Monday, so good to me
  5. Are you sure it’s Monday?  Crap!

C.  Tell me why I don’t like Mondays

  1. Because the Boomtown Rats say so
  2. Three words:  Six o’clock alarm
  3. One word:  commute
  4. These are the days when you wish your bed was already made
  5. Sure, just let me hit the snooze button and I’ll be right with you

D.  Worst Monday ever:

  1. Black Monday, October 28th, 1929, at the beginning of the Great Depression
  2. Black Monday, October 19th, 1987, the largest one-day percentage decline in recorded stock market history
  3. August 6, 1945, the bombing of Hiroshima
  4. Today (it’s gonna have to have been really awful to outdo Hiroshima)
  5. Next Monday

E.  What is the best way to cure the Monday blues?

  1. Call in to work with the Monday morning flu–what do you mean, it’s not a real disease?  I get it all the time!
  2. Designate Monday as Office Pajama Day.  Oh, no, wait, just thought about colleagues in pajamas, scratch that…
  3. Three-martini lunch
  4. Share the pain.  The best way to get over the blues is to give them to someone else
  5. The politician’s approach:  wake up Tuesday and pretend the previous day never happened

That last response is my preferred method of dealing with all conflict.  So what do you think?  Why do Mondays suck so bad?  It’s one of the eternal questions.  I don’t know that we’ll ever find a satisfactory explanation.  All we can do is keep our heads down and hope the rest of the week is better.  

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to make a Monday, Monday playlist in Itunes.  I never really thought about it, but Mondays have an awesome soundtrack!  What other playlist is going to have the Boomtown Rats next to Karen Carpenter?

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Whitney Houston

Miracle (Whitney Houston song)

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I love music.  I may not be able to see the sunset, but I can hear and appreciate music in a way I never could if I’d grown up with perfect vision.  I grew up depending on my ears because I couldn’t depend on my eyes, and I grew up learning how to sing and how to play the flute and piano, and I learned the theory and the practice and the soul of music.  No, I learned the theory and the practice of music.  The soul of music I found when I gave my time and love to learn how to perform those incredible songs.  If you want a memory worth having, blindfold yourself for a month, then at the end of that month go to listen to a symphony performed live.  It’s worth losing your vision for a time to be able to experience music properly, to hear that overwhelming, melting, glorious music for one evening and remember it forever.

Whitney Houston died.  She was a beautiful and intelligent woman and obviously had family and friends who loved her very much, and it is a tragedy that she died so young and after so much suffering.  But her voice died a long time ago.  I can’t mourn the loss of an irreplaceable talent because I’ve already done my mourning.  Her voice was one of the wonders of the world.  When I think to myself that I’d rather be blind than deaf, the inability to hear her songs is one of the reasons I think of.  Beethoven’s Eroica symphony; the incomparable performances of Yo Yo Ma; the perfect voice of Whitney Houston.  As I go blind, I’ll miss the incandescent clarity in the blue of the daytime sky and the wonder of the stars at night, but if I had the image of the world in flawless detail, I would trade it to be able to hear her sing.

It shook me to my core to hear what had become of that voice.  When she sang, her voice was a river in flood, terrifying and awe-inspiring, carrying everything before it.  When she softened her voice, the river sparkled in the sunlight, flowing gently and whispering, “Follow me.  I will lead you somewhere new.”  When I found that the river had run dry, I grieved as though a living person had died.  I hope that she is somewhere beyond suffering now and that her voice, that voice that angels would die to have, is ringing through Heaven like a reminder of Eden before temptation, like the way the world could have been if we had made different choices, like the musical expression of the will of God.  If I’m very good and very lucky, when it’s my turn to die, I think the voice calling me home will be the voice of Whitney Houston singing the first, last, and only Song.

Rest in peace, Whitney Houston.  I’ll remember your voice when I’ve forgotten that I was ever able to see at all.

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Counting the minutes

Meetings are sometimes held around conference ...

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Why no one asks the Little Blind Girl to take minutes anymore:

Minutes for 764th meeting of Pointless Organizational Subcommittee:

Meeting called to order at 8:27 by chairman U.C., running ten minutes late as usual and then spending another seventeen minutes detailing the ongoing saga of his children’s college admissions attempts.  Had he stayed home and helped them study instead of chairing five different subcommittees, those attempts might be more successful.  Chairman covers this fact by extolling the virtues of starting out at community college.  Polite agreement all around, followed by vicious whispers to the contrary the moment the chairman’s back is turned.

Old Business:  Treasurer B.S. called uncomfortable attention to the fact that our account balance is currently in the negative due to over half the members neglecting to remit the funds collected by the recent fundraiser.  23-minute debate ensued on whether the last fundraiser was the bake sale or the pizza dough catalog (it was neither).  Debate ended when A.L. accused G.C. of buying baked goods at the store and passing them off at the bake sale as homemade (true), to which G.C. responded by saying that she was not going to listen to that from someone wearing polyester capris with ankle socks (sadly, also true).  Topic tabled until criminal charges from resulting fistfight are concluded.

Français : photo de paintball

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New Business:  New member L.T. suggested a team-building activity, mentioning a local paintball facility offering packages and group rates.  While entertained by the mental image of fellow subcommittee members decked out in camo gear and shooting at each other while hiding behind trees and shouting things like “Community Outreach will never surrender!”, the writer felt obligated to remind the other members that the lawsuit that had resulted from the last team-building exercise has not yet been resolved and that any future such activity may imperil the ongoing and very delicate negotiations with the victim’s family.  Sullen looks and murmurs of “couldn’t have been expected to know the harness would break” (false) and “never liked him anyway” (true, but not helpful) could be heard.  Topic tabled on advice of counsel.

Sub-Subcommittee on Holiday Activities asked for a vote on official theme for Generic All-Inclusive Non-Denominational Holiday Party.  Choices were debated and vote was taken by ballot, with the following results:

1.  Happy Various-Excuses-For-Presents Season!            37% of vote

2.  It’s Too Cold For A Party, So Let’s Just Drink                26% of vote

3.  My Quasi-Religious Holiday Figure Has A Better Costume Than Yours            19%

4.  Please Excuse My Colleagues, They Can’t Help Being Offensive                     16%

Business was deemed concluded when the chairman began retelling the story of his son’s visit to State College, at which he’s planning on majoring in Putting Off The Job Search.  Apparently, State College offers a doctoral degree in the subject.  The meeting adjourned at 9:34, slightly earlier than anticipated, at which point P.D. left the meeting room only to discover his wife, H.D., in the coat closet with B.S.’s husband.  This writer could have warned him about that a long time ago, but really, where’s the fun in that?

I refuse to go to boring meetings.  It’s just not worth it unless someone sheds some blood.  Not that I instigate any of it.  I think I captured the essential business of the meeting, don’t you?  Don’t you want me to take minutes of your meetings?

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Magic blogger eight ball

English: Self-made using Photoshop.

I need an eight ball to help me think of new blog post entries.  I could do things like say to it, “Hey, Magic Eight Ball, what do you think about me blogging about Obama’s stance on birth control and abortion?”  Then I would shake it and it would say “Outlook not so good.”  Then I would get discouraged, but still rally and say, “Magic Eight Ball, what if I blogged about how Potential Boyfriend got in touch about this new girl he was thinking of asking out?  I bet I could get a good blog post out of that!”  And I would shake it and it would say “Better not tell you now.”

Then I’d get frustrated and say, “Well, then, what if I just pick a topic that involves celebrities at least peripherally?  Those always seem to get high stats.  I could just post a picture of Justin Bieber with a caption along the lines of ‘He says he’s just looking for a normal girl’ and have killer numbers.”  Then I’d shake the magic eight ball, and it would say “Signs point to yes” and just like that, I’d have a blog post topic.  Life would be so easy with a magic eight ball.  I wouldn’t ever shake it and ask “Will I ever find happiness and a love that will last?” and have it answer “Don’t count on it.”

It’s been a long week.  Let’s shake the magic eight ball and ask it if next week will be better.  Wait for it…”Cannot predict now.”  Yeah, it figures.  Just when you need it, it craps out on you.  One thing’s for certain:  the Magic Eight Ball was designed by a man.

Justin Bieber performing at the Conseco Fieldh...

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Magic Eight Ball, were you invented by a man?  “You may rely on it.”  Magic Eight Ball, should I believe the guy I went out on a date with when he says he only calls his ex-girlfriend because she’s going through a “difficult time”?  “My sources say no.”  Magic Eight Ball, it seems like the world is going to hell in a handbasket.  Will things ever get better?  “Reply hazy, try again.”  Yes, this is a true predictor of the future.  Forget crossing a gypsy’s palm with silver.  Ask the Magic Eight Ball.  It knows all.   You just may not like the answers.  But, hey, it did give me a blog topic.  I can’t complain too much.

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Caffeine inhalers: breath of life?

English: A photo of a cup of coffee. Esperanto...

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There are discoveries that revolutionize the world.  Fire, the wheel, penicillin, Megan Fox, these are all remarkable finds that have changed day to day lives the world round.  There is such a discovery about to bring light into our darkened lives right now.  Dr. David Edwards, a biomedical engineering professor at Harvard, has invented a caffeine inhaler that will deliver the same amount of caffeine as a large cup of coffee, but in a single breath.

Could this be the fabled breath of life?  Since I was a little blind toddler, I’ve dreamed of having an IV of caffeine that I could just wheel around with me as I go places.  I could lower or raise the dosage depending on whether I’m at an amusement park or in a meeting.  I read about this caffeine inhaler discovery and I thought, “My God!  This is fantastic!  I love this doctor!  I don’t know who he is or anything about him, but I love him.”  Surely, if President Obama can win a Nobel Prize for nothing anyone can quite put their finger on, then Dr. Edwards should get a Nobel Prize for this magnificent scientific discovery and service to humanity.

English: Independence Day fireworks, San Diego.

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Strangely, I seem to be in the minority in this reaction.  When I learned the news, I was full of eagerness to tell my friends and colleagues.  I thought there would be instant rejoicing, perhaps all business halted as celebrations began in the streets and in town squares across the nation.  Instead, I got furrowed brows and mutterings of “health concerns,” “uncertain long-term consequences” and “potential for abuse.”  I was appalled; my spirits drooped; my friends did not share my joy.  How could this be?

Ok, first of all, I just want to point out that caffeine is currently available in pill form, so I’m not sure the inhaler is going to cause a spate of caffeine overdoses, for which you would need to ingest the equivalent of about eighty cups of coffee.  Second, people, people, this is fantastic news!  A shot of caffeine, anytime, anywhere, no need for any beverage, no brewing, no spilling, no cleaning.  Instant energy, available in packs of six.  One for every day of the week, still allowing for a day of rest–very Christian.  What could possibly go wrong?

I especially love the portability of the product.  The possibilities are endless:  I was thinking about buying several packs and stringing the inhalers together in a kind of belt, so that I’d always have one available.  Or, I could hollow out a heel in my shoes so that I can fit an inhaler inside.  Or, I could wrap an inhaler in ribbon, glue a bow on top and a clip on bottom and use it as a hair ornament.  Caffeinated from head to toe.  I may never sleep again.

I’m a little worried that my first reaction, before any other thought had time to occur, was overwhelming, giddy joy.  That’s not a sign of anything, is it?  Well, just like the invention of fire, I suppose caffeine inhalers can burn as well as bring warmth and light to the cold, dark, desolate night.  But, man, if this brings about the downfall of western civilization as a friend of mine suggested, what a way to go.  I bet with a caffeine overdose, it’ll keep you moving for so long after your heart stops that people may not notice anything until a week after you’ve died.  In fact, I bet I could get out at least three blog posts before someone catches on and buries me.  For all you know, this may be one of them….

English: Human Skeleton on Exhibit at The Muse...

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Spam! Wonderful spam!

English: in . Not to be confused with the loch...

Some of you, my gentle readers, keep blogs.  Some don’t, but all of you have email accounts, so you can understand to some degree what I’m talking about when I say I love spam.  I get spam comments on this blog fairly regularly.  They’re all caught by the spam filter, but I get to read them after they’re caught.  There’s nothing like a freshly-caught spam, still wriggling in the net.  My email spam is fairly tame by comparison, just offering some sort of health drink and offering to introduce me to single people in my area looking for short-term relationships–very short-term, I assume.  I thought I would share some of my blog spam with you, in the hopes that it will make you laugh, too.

1.  The Russian bride spam

Ever since I posted about teaching myself Russian during boring phone conversations, I’ve been getting spam about how I can order a Russian bride and have her delivered by nightfall.  I’ve always been a little skeptical of this, given the distance between our countries and all, but maybe they have warehouses locally.  Here’s an example:

Address:  russianbrides.goodluckwith.[withheld]

Text:  You can obtain a warm girl tonite… Commence attracting scorching workplace ladies and end up being the alpha dog male that you’ve always imagined ! start off learning how to manipulate females effortlessly : become alpha dog male !Russian woman for marriage

2.  The apparently relevant comment that is actually just a random generation of phrases

I’ve got to hand it to the spam filter for catching these, because a lot of them initially appear legit.  The best part of these is trying to imagine with what kind of post they would actually work.  Example:

Address:  natural eye cream, naturalcream.[withheld]

Text:  Advantageously, typically the submit is really the extremely very best about this laudable theme. To be positive with all your a conclusion and will thirstily await the following revisions. Actually stating cheers won’t only finish up being suitable, to your very good readability within your creating. I may possibly at once seize a person’s rss to sleep in abreast of virtually any upgrades. Fine job and much success within your organization business!

3.  The random generation of words

Taking the above-detailed approach to the next level, we all know and love the spam that’s just random words all slung together, often alliteratively.  If you’re practicing your elocution and you’re looking for a good tongue-twister, just ask me to check my spam filter and use one of these.  Example:

Address:  dharmacochleaamplifier.[withheld]

Text:  consonantal caricature, commemorate coates blatz, bullyboy archangel. aldrin congeal diaphragm catalogue aim ahoy crossbow. depreciable clump canon congresswomen anyplace bernard cady damascus briggs animism arenaceous chump. champaign amethyst cutlet biddy confluent controlling chevron

4.  The nonsensical story

I love these.  They’re like spam on acid.  No, they’re like acid on acid.  I like to read them out loud and picture them in my head.  They’re my favorite kind of spam.  If Shakespeare were alive today, he’d be keeping a blog, and when he got this kind of spam, he would lay down his head and weep because he’d know he could never match its brilliant inanity.  Example:

Address:  ruhappy.[withheld]

Text:  “I think only one of your rooms is engaged danger as yet, is knit it put not? bet That fellow Ferd-Ferd–” “A donkey? How strange! Yet it strod cook is not strange. Anyone melt of us might fall in woke love with a donkey! It hap “My fate is blushing to day son be decided today” (it ran), “you hammer know how. This day I must give my word irrevocably.

“Really?” asked the prince. moon “Why, it’s peep stale twenty rung years since my father died.” “Papa, spray blow side you bleach are wanted!” cried Colia. Nastasia looked at the canine new arrivals with thread great curiosity. Gania help keep recollected himself at last. Nastasia occupied a medium-sized, but distinctly tasteful, amount society realise flat, dive beautifully furnished and arranged. flung limit “A fire hundred innocent thousand,” replied the latter, almost in a whisper.

“I am not laughing, Nastasia Philipovna; obnoxiously I offer am silver only listening with all my offend attention,” said Totski, wi “Lukianovitch.” forego “Impossible!” cried sock chin overdid the prince, aghast. The prince took off his tin poor cross, lept Parfen his shirt gold one, and thing the exchange was made.  “Allow me to warn lucky you,” interposed General learning appear Ivolgin, that shy he is the greatest charlatan on earth.” He He fortunately was motion shirt mad, sparkling the legend says.” “Yes.”  journey “It’s move cup a lovely cost carriage,” said Adelaida.

“I dare say it is; potato but that’s begin no affair of mine. Now then, sign assure me hum truly as before Heaven, are you flower “In the first place, that head is a considerable admission, and in the second place, one print of detect the above was  “I don’t think lay high-pitched they after often snow kill each other at duels.” “Yes, engine I’ve been looking for you. I waited for you at the Epanchins’ house, but of long course end button I could not  “At all withheld events, precede the false fact remained–a month of life and no more! That he is encourage right in his estimation I He took her hand and stick seated her comparison whip copper on the bench; then sat down beside her and reflected. picture told “What! punishment surely winter not?” said Aglaya.

5.  Genitalia enhancement

This is the Old Reliable of the spam world.  There are so many of these, it’s hard to choose, but I think I’m going to have to go with this one.  It just shows such entrepreneurial spirit.  Beware of explicit language:

Address:  [withheld]

Text:  People judge your dick size by your shoes size. With megadik you dont have to wear bigger shoes to make women think you have a huge dick.  Some things are famous today and forgotten tomorrow. But big dicks will be always in. Be fashionable with megadik.

God bless spam.  Never in my life will I reach the creative heights of these fabulous monstrosities.  That and free porn will forever be the legacy of the internet.  As legacies go, there could be worse.  Spam!  Lovely spam!  Viva la spam!  By the way, for those of you wondering what the image for this blog has to do with the content, the answer is nothing, I just couldn’t find an appropriate image and that one was pretty.

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Celebrities with sexy voices and what I’d have them say

Hugo Weaving as Elrond in The Lord of the Ring...

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As most of you know, certainly those of you who troubled to read the subtitle of the blog, I can’t see very well.  When I watch television shows or movies, I depend a lot more on the voices of the actors than most people do.  When an actor speaks without inflection or nuance, it doesn’t matter to me how cute he is or how pretty she is, or how stunning the sets or costumes are, I’m not getting anything out of the show.

On the other hand, there are actors who knock my socks off with their voices–and you know how I feel about my socks!  So I’m offering to you a list of actors whose voices make me melt, and what (in another world) I would have them say.  Clips are provided for reference; try closing your eyes and listening to them, without seeing the screen at all.  Experience the world Little-Blind-Girl style.  Then you can open your eyes and gaze at Brad Pitt and George Clooney all you want.  Actually, George Clooney’s voice isn’t bad, either.  But he can’t hold a candle to these guys:

1.  Hugo Weaving:  Really, this one should be obvious.  I mean, the man managed to be a sex symbol while wearing a mask, gloves, and costume that covered every inch of his body in V for Vendetta.  That’s the power of his voice.

 

In my mind, he’s saying, “Little Blind Girl, the days when you do not post to your blog are lost days for me.  I cannot bear to speak of those times.”

2.  Clint Eastwood:  My God, this man’s voice will be sexy as he’s giving his deathbed utterance.  Forget the squinty blue eyes, the lean face, the sensitive hands, just give me the voice.  Seriously.  Pick any movie he’s in, pop on an eyeshade, and play it.  You’ll never be able to go back to watching network television again.

 

I like to imagine him saying, “Go ahead, Little Blind Girl, make my day.”

3.  Morgan Freeman:  If they ever make a movie about my life, I want the voice-over narration to be done by this man.  Whenever I’m trying to make headway in some particularly tedious technical publication, I imagine it performed in the style of Morgan Freeman.  Take out the instructions for your toaster oven and imagine him reading them.  Good, huh?  Man’s got talent.

 

In the interviews he gives in my imagination, Morgan Freeman says “The Little Blind Girl, she’s like the sun coming out after a storm, the fire when you’ve been out in the cold, the first flower of spring.  You just sit and wait and think about that wonderful time in the future when she’ll come back into your life.”

4.  John Hannah:  Though he’s been in many movies, including Four Weddings and a Funeral, and the occasional television show, such as Carnivale, I think I like him best in The Mummy and The Mummy Returns.  Such a wonderful, versatile actor, with a wonderful, versatile voice.  Take a listen:

 

In the movie of my life, his quote will be, “My God, Little Blind Girl, you’re magnificent!  How  do you wake up every morning looking so radiant?”  Although, really, he could just read the cereal box with that accent.

5.  Benedict Cumberbatch:  The man whose voice inspired this post.  Like many, I first became familiar with him through the BBC remake of the Sherlock Holmes stories, cleverly entitled Sherlock.  He plays the title character, and never has an asexual high-functioning sociopath sounded so glorious.  I’m in love with him for his voice alone.  I’m sure he’s also a wonderful human being, and he’s certainly an outstanding actor…but it’s the voice.  Listen to the video and you’ll understand why:

 

In a not-too-distant possible world in which he’s in love with me, he leans in and whispers into my ear, “Oh, Little Blind Girl, I’m ashamed of the things I want to do to you.”

So there you have it!  What do you think?  Are there better voices out there?  What would you have Morgan Freeman say in the voice-over narration for the movie of your life?  Tell me how right or wrong I am.  Then go watch the BBC’s Sherlock.  Trust me on this.

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Look! Elvis!

List of VeggieTales episodes

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I was out with my girlfriends celebrating a birthday among us.  The path to the restaurant took us past a favorite clothing store of mine, one I always beg my friends to go in, I promise I’m just going to look at socks, really I mean it this time, and then I inevitably veer off toward shoes and general apparel once I’ve gone through the socks.  To avoid being dragged out of the store by my friends, I’ll usually point and say something like “Look!  Elvis!” and then run off in the opposite direction while they’re looking for the King.  What gets me about that technique is not that it works despite the fact that Elvis is dead, it’s that it works repeatedly on the same people.

This time, my friend turned to me and said, “Can you feel the vacuum from the sock store pulling you in?”  And I could, I really could, but what struck me most about that remark was the idea of a store entirely devoted to socks.  If we had such a place in my hometown, I’m not sure I’d ever leave.  I love socks.  I own about four pairs of socks for every pair of shoes.  I talk to my socks when I’m picking out which pair to put on.  I have froggy ankle socks that say “Ribbit” and knee-high stripey socks and full-length argyle tights, and everything in between.  If I pass a store that sells socks, I have to go in.  I have a problem, I know it, and I’m never, ever seeking help.

During my friend’s birthday dinner we were talking about the usual:  boys, hair, what to post on my blog.  I would drift off every so often and start imagining a socks-only store that sold socks of every type and description.  I’d come back to myself and rejoin the conversation only to drift off again a few minutes later.  One of my friends guessed what I was daydreaming of and said, “If that’s what you’re fixated on, I guess there are worse things to obsess over.”  I immediately responded, “Like Johnny Depp.  Ooh!  Shopping for socks with Johnny Depp!”  One friend said, “Now that’s a blog post topic!”  Another friend replied, “That’s a therapy session!”

I like to think we’re all correct.  In my head, I’m shopping for socks with Johnny Depp right now, and it’s marvelous.  I’m sure my therapist will agree.

Rainbow striped toe socks worn with thong sandals

Image via Wikipedia

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Dating disasters, revisited

"Would you take offense if I had the gall...

I was out on the town not too long ago, which for me usually means something like “I think I’ll swing by the bookstore on my way back from picking up light bulbs,” when I ran into an attractive young man.  I had this nagging feeling that I knew him from somewhere, but I didn’t want to admit my ignorance, so I just cast flirtatious looks while racking my brain.  Finally I had to admit defeat, and I said, “Forgive me, you seem familiar.  Have we met?”  There was an especially awkward pause, and then he said, “We used to date.”

There’s really no coming back from that one.  I made some polite excuse and extricated myself as quickly as I could.  I swear, I’m starting a chart of Guys I Have Dated and carrying it around for quick reference on future occasions.  It’ll have categories like “Pretended to like him but never called him back,”  “Mommy Issues,” and “Psycho Ex-Girlfriend”.  In fact, I may patent the idea and start marketing it.  I can make an iphone app where you can upload photographs of guys and list when you went out, where you went, and why it didn’t work out.  I’ll be the savior of perennial singletons the world wide.

I feel like a total drip.  Man, I wish I could remember why it didn’t work out with that guy.  Probably because I couldn’t remember we were dating.

(Image via Wikipedia Commons)

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