Lingerie and Man Boobs

Yeah, I know. But I have a good excuse. I was on a mission last night. It was lingerie Tuesday at the local skank bar and it was absolutely necessary that I abduct, at squirt-gun point, my two favorite local scribes for an unofficial Press Club meeting. I'm not exactly sure why, but I felt it my responsibility to show these "noobs" the other side of the tracks. The West side if you will. The discarded must pile of a quaint little wine country.
Even though I spent most of the morning in the bathroom at the office, it was totally worth it. In addition to learning about where to find the hidden porn on these guys computers, I learned a couple of less-important things.

Drinking on a Tuesday night isn't a smart idea if you have to work on Wednesday morning. I think I also learned that I can't drink like I used too. Since when does a few drinks give me a nasty hangover? I think someone may have slipped ipecac into my whisky.

So, that was for yesterday, even though I technically learned it this morning. Today I learned that:

Lavender and tea tree oils can make boys have boobies.

A few weeks ago I read that something called sodium lauryl sulfate, which is found in most soaps and shampoos, is processed in the body like the female hormone estrogen. (Click above to learn more about why this is bad)
So after learning that, we spent a bunch of money at Whole Foods (Whole Paycheck according to cousin Jason) buying shampoo, soap and deodorant that is SLS free. Of course what we bought was lavender shampoo, tea tree oil shampoo, and lavender soap.
So fuck this. I give up. We're all going to die with big boobs. I don't care.

Keep Your Pants On

I've been reading through my newest issue of Bust magazine since I picked it up this weekend, and as usual, I've learned a few interesting things. This months News From A Broad, by Janice Erlbaum was where I learned from today.

In 2007, the US government is planning to spend about 50 million bucks on abstinence-only birth control programs. Their big idea is to convince kids ages 12 to 29, yes 2 freaking 9, to stop having sex and reduce the number of unwanted pregnancies.

Seriously? Come on. Really? Does our government actually think it can lower the amount of accidental pregancies by teaching people that no sex is better than safe sex? I don't even know where to begin. Perhaps tomorrow I'll go full blast on this, but I suddenly feel exhausted.

Kanji

A friend of mine started doing Tarot readings at the tattoo shop down the street, so I spent most of the afternoon hanging out with her as she waited for customers. Since it was a slow day, being her first weekend at it and nobody really knowing about it yet, we had plenty of time to look through all the dozens of tattoo and piercing books, posters and photo albums. It was interesting, to say the least. I've never really wanted a tattoo, or a Tarot reading for that matter, but after spending a while studying a chart of Japanese symbols, I started getting ideas. In addition to the usual Faith, Success, and Hope that you see everywhere, there were also words like Fart, Bendover and Whore. I'm seriously considering the Diarrhea one. Seriously. I would love so much to have someone say how pretty it is and then tell them what it means.
I always think it's weird when I see people with one of these symbols permanently scarred into their skin. Like, what? Japanese has some deep, hidden, special meaning to you because, because what? Because you're a twenty year old white American girl looking for depth and higher meaning? Because cryptic makes you mysterious? So guys will have a reason to talk to you? Whatever. "I'm deep and intelligent because I have a unique Asian-symbol tattoo on my lower back. Ask me what it means." Why don't you just get T-R-U-T-H inked on instead? Oops. Sorry for the rant. Back to what I learned today.

These Japanese symbols are called kanji, which are actually Chinese characters used in modern Japanese writing. Japanese writing uses three (or four, depending on something I can't quite grasp) different alphabets and kanji is one of the three. The first two alphabets represent syllables, and kanji represent more of the idea of the word. If that's not complicated enough, kanji can be read several different ways, depending on if it's in a sentence, called "on" reading, or if the word is by itself, called "kun" reading. If I understand correctly, which I'm sure I'm getting all of this wrong, you can put several kanji symbols together to create one word. My favorite example that I saw was the kanji for "crisis". You take the kanji for danger and put it right next to the symbol for opportunity, where you get Kiki, which means crisis.

Alright, that's enough of that. Maybe I'll just get the monkey tattoo instead.

私は決して漢字を理解しない

Learning With Bon Scott

Around 2 am, under the neon sign of the Black Cat, in the pouring rain. This is where I learned today.
Jeff, JB, Bon. These are a few of the names the High Voltage singer is known as, and who I learned from today.

After I burnt his finger with a gauche passing manuever, longtime pal JB taught me a little trick from his New York days that I'd never heard of. It's a special finger-rolling move he calls, "The roach handshake". Enough said.

A few minutes later I'm being serenaded by this same "Rock and Roll Singer", standing in the doorway of the perpetually freezing lesbian bar. (I think I lost 6 pounds last night just burning calories to keep warm. According to the ass-kicking woman bartender whom I had earlier seen throw a grown man out the front door, the owners won't let her turn the heater on. WTF?)
In complete contrast to the AC/DC songs he was just ripping out with freak-like, actual Bon Scott sounding (and looking) accuracy, Jeff is now singing songs from various musicals he loves. Surprisingly, or not so, I'm unfamiliar with the likes of Jesus Christ Super Star (his favorite), so while he's standing there singing, "Once upon a looking-for-Donna-time, there was a sixteen year old virgin, oh Donna, oh oh Donna, oh oh oh, looking for my Donna", I'm thinking he's making it up as goes. How nice. I'm thinking Jeff wrote a song about me, but a sixteen year old virgin? I had to ask, to which he replied, "Haven't you seen Hair? It's from the movie. It's called Donna Hashish."
So now I know:

There's a song in the musical Hair called Donna Hashish. Is that NOT cool? How is it possible that I've never heard this before?

If you're interested, click here for the rest of the lyrics.

My Colonel and I are going to go watch Hair right now. Wish me luck.

Billy Brown

Since I'm going out to see High Voltage tonight, I've decided to "blog before I party" right now. I haven't really learned anything yet today so I'm leaving a quote from Vincent Gallo, one of my favorite actor and director combos. Last night I watched for the third or fourth time his sick little love story, Buffalo '66. I love this movie. Pre-anorexic and totally cute Christina Ricci plays his kidnapped, glitter-blue eye shadowed, somber, tap-dancing "wife" perfectly. Vincent plays Billy Brown, who is actually, probably, really, Vincent Gallo.

"I don't trust or love anyone. Because people are so creepy. Creepy creepy creeps. Creeping around. Creeping here and creeping there. Creeping everywhere. Crippity crappity creepies."

When I was looking for a good Gallo quote, I learned something about him that doesn't surprise me in the least.

At one time he offered to sell his sperm for a million dollars, to anyone who didn't have an "extremely dark complexion". He offered discounts to women who were blonde-haired, blue-eyed or had genealogical ties to German soldiers from the mid-20th century. Generously, he also offered to impregnate through intercourse for only an additional hundred grand, but he would waive the fee for anyone he found attractive. Not only that, he's offered himself as an escort to "do things that couples do" with any woman, "even black chicks" for a fee of 50 grand. Double that for a lesbian couple. Plus expenses of course.

I'm sorry. Really. But I love this guy. He can make me uncomfortable like nobody else. He's so raw and freaky and honest and well, creepy, that I can't help but love him.

Hate me if you must.

Iguana Sex Toys

I was just reading with some curiousity about this iguana named Mozart that's in the news because of his 6 day, post mating erection. My first thought was, "With both penises or just one?". It seems it's just one "hemipeni" and it's in danger of being whacked off. Make that cut off.
Couldn't they just give him some kind of drug? A picture of an ugly iguana? Baseball and a cold shower? Your mom? Amputation seems a little harsh. Anyway, as I was wandering around in cyberspace looking for some pictures of the thing, (click it, I dare you) I learned something kinda funny.

There's a company out there making sex dolls for iguanas.

So, if you've got a horny iguana and he's having a hard time gettin' some, "your large lizard (omg) may enjoy Ig Mate's company. Unlike surrogates you may have made yourself, Ig Mate is machine washable and has an optional, separate heat pack." Available in dark green, black and coming soon, orange.

Lung Ching

I found something today that I will buy from China and not feel bad about it. It happened by mistake really, or bad fortune. Or good fortune, or fate, or whatever. True to form this morning, my Colonel headed over to 7-11 for his beloved cheap, crappy coffee, and I headed in the other direction to a plaza cafe for my favorite, yummy, expensive tea. BUT, to my complete and utter spoiled brat horror, when I arrived, there were no silk sachets of Harney's Pomegranate Oolong! None. Zero. Empty. Gone. I restrained myself from screaming and begged the Sunflower Cafe employee to please tell me they were NOT out of the only reason I came in this morning.
"Yes, it appears we are. But we've just placed an order and we should have more soon."
Shut up, I thought. You're wasting words. I don't care when more will be here, I just want THAT tea right NOW! How could you let this happen? How could you be so.... Well, it doesn't matter what I was thinking. What I'm getting to is, like the curious, adventuresome, new experience seeker that I am, I "put on my big girl panties" and said, "What is this tea like?" and pointed to something with a name so disgusting that I had to try it.

Lung Ching. (gesundheit)

"Well, it's a really nice green tea from China. It's pretty rare."
Well I guess so because the 2 dollars I brought with me weren't enough to pay for it. Instead of putting my extra dime in the tip jar, (no wonder they let my favorite run out) I had to go back to my car and get 2 more dimes. $2.20 for a small bag of leaves and a cup of hot water. This better be good.

And it was. It was delightful. It was delicate and sweet, yet strong and nutty. When I got home tonight, I looked it up to see why it's "pretty rare". It isn't really that rare, but I did learn about where it's from, how it's processed, and how it got that deliciously enticing (ehk!) name.

This tea is named after a legend that occured in the town where it is grown. Lung Ching means Dragon Well, and the tale is that in 250 AD, a Taoist monk thought there was a dragon living in a local well. During a really bad drought, the monk begged the dragon to come help the poor farmers out. Instantly, clouds rushed in and it began to rain.

The tea leaves are picked by hand only in March and early April, and dried by hand in a giant wok. Skilled (and probably burnt) hands press the leaves against the side of the wok and turn them repeatedly until they are flat. The first thing I noticed about the tea in my bag was how long and flat the leaves were. In Chinese culture, this tea is an excellent gift to share with friends, as it was once the tea of emperors.

A long time ago, once a year in March and early April, young virgins wearing gloves and using gold scissors, delicately plucked only the bud and the first leaf and put them into a golden basket. This was for the imperial Dragon Well tea.
Can you imagine what asshole emperor made that rule? Young virgins. Geez.

Eskimo Extinction

On my way back to the office after lunch today, I listened to a fun show on our local radio station called Strange Wine with Carla Heine. She always tells interesting stories about our towns past, and usually runs off onto some interesting tangents. Today I learned about 4 things from her and none of them had anything to do with wine or the wine country. Like this:

Eskimo's don't want to be called Eskimo's anymore. They want to be called Inuits instead because in Native American, "eskimo" means "cannibal".

New meaning to the whole Eskimo Pie thing, eh? I guess that's what happens when you live in the Circumpolar Region. (Sorry. Pole jokes are funny to first graders.)

If you're interested, I read a pretty good book by James Michener about Inuits called, "Alaska". It's a pretty long book, but if you like that kind of thing, pick up a copy. I really liked it.

Monday Montage

Dogs are allowed in bars.

This is an actual scene from todays "Crap, it's Monday" after work whisky with Lala. If this doesn't say "The Real Wine Country", then I'm not blogging right now.

Squirrels rub their nuts on their cheeks before they bury them so they can be found by scent.

The moon just moved into Aquarius.
Or some crap like that.

Tuica- The Romanian Moonshine

Living in the wine country, I've often wondered if the beloved fermented libation could be made using fruit other than the common, little old grape. I learned back in July that in Southern states like Mississippi, a wine is made with Mayhaw berries, and that's about all I've ever heard. But today, as you can see in the comments on this last Friday's posting, my Romanian reader Madmax wrote about something called Ţuică. I'm always interested in new things, particularly new beverages, so today I did a little Googling and learned about this traditional alcoholic drink.

If you're having dinner or any other meal in Romania, chances are you'll be offered a shot of Ţuică before you eat. Made from plums, the distillation process is somewhat complicated and requires a lot of patience and skill. Most of this brandy-like drink made is moonshine, but the government tends to look the other way and nobody gets into trouble for making it. Like wine it can be fermented in oak barrels from 6 months up to 10 years, but it can also be enjoyed immediately after distilling.

I really want to buy some so I can try it, but I can't read Romanian. A similar drink with a higher alcohol content called Palinka is popular in Transylvania. I wonder if my vampyre friends have any.

The Little Pixel Called Earth

Well, today is Saturday and I'm lazy, tired and my nose is stuffy. Wah.
The only thing I really learned today was that one litre is approx. the same as 34 ounces, but who the hell really cares about that?

A while ago I saw something that I thought I'd save for a day like today. It shows how insignificant we are and reminded me not to take things too seriously.
The image above is just the beginning.

Enjoy these comparative planetary and stellar size images.
Try not to hate me.

Thanks to Madmax, where I first saw this.

Name That Overdose

Billie Holiday- Heroine
Marilyn Monroe- Sleeping Pills
Christina Onassis- Diet Pills
John Entwhistle- Cocaine
Bon Scott- Alcohol
Jennifer Strange- Water

I had no idea it was possible to die from too much water, except of course when it fills your lungs. I know I'm a week behind on this, but today when Rebecca told me the story of Hold Your Wee for Wii, I was shocked and amazed. So today I learned:

If you drink a lot of water in a short amount of time, you can die.
One of the ways this happens is that too much water too quickly can mess up the balance of electrolytes in your body fluids, which can cause brain, heart and other cells in your body to stop working. When the sodium levels change dramatically, it can mess up cell osmosis, and low magnesium levels due to dilution can cause heart attacks.

From what I understand, under normal circumstances you should drink half your body weight in ounces everyday, and not all at once.

I also learned today that Wii is pretty fucking cool. Now I want one and I don't even like video games.

All right, that's it for today. I've got a column to write.

I miss you dad. I can't believe it's been 12 years already. : (

Not Out, But Usually About

I just got back from a little "Girls Night Out" where it was agreed that we'd probably have way more fun in The City, meaning San Francisco. There was some small talk about how fun it is going to the gay bars in the Castro, with all the hot guys who aren't boring you with all the usual pick-up lines. There was also mention of the fabulous Castro Theatre, where I once saw a movie in which my friend played "The Bridge and Tunnel Guy". Tonight I learned the origin of the bridge-and-tunnel term.

Bridge and Tunnel is used to refer to people who must commute through a bridge or tunnel to get to the island of Manhattan. Since the surrounding boroughs of New York are generally less expensive to live in, B&T has become a derogatory and sometimes racially prejudice term. It is also used in San Francisco referring to people who don't live on the peninsula.

I always knew it as referring to gay men who acted totally straight and came over to the Castro to get a little action on the sly, but I didn't know it originated all the way across the country with a totally different meaning.
Well, you learn something new every day.

Livingston Lessons

I don't know why, but I still find it amazing that my friend in Hawaii can be in his car, driving home from work, and also be talking to me, here in Northern California. I could be standing in my garage looking for a hammer, and he could be at the pet store looking for feeder fish, while we casually talk about the ricockulous differences in weather. Is that not something to be amazed about? Yeah, I guess I'm just getting old. I still think a regular cordless "landline" phone is pretty cool. And I still say "cool" and "whatever".
Whatever.
So today Daryl is at a pet store, across the ocean where it's warm and the sun is still shining, telling me that he's picking up some dinner for his friends lionfish. He told me how this cannibalistic fish will only eat live goldfish, swallowing them whole. Well, I didn't know that, so here it is:

Lionfish eat whole, live goldfish for dinner.

I also learned a few more interesting little tidbits about this voracious predator.

They are also known as Turkey Fish, Dragon Fish and Scorpion Fish.
They have 3 anal spines, which are venomous.
There are also 2 pelvic and 12 or 13 dorsal venomous spines.
"Envenomation" is the word for getting stung, which is obvious but I've never heard it put that way.
In 2001, there was a series of 101, not 100 but 100 and ONE, "documented cases of captive lionfish envenomations in the US" (please tell me why I find that so funny) , where it was found that 0% of the patients experienced death.
The most interesting thing however, is that first aide for a lionfish sting is to immerse the wound in HOT water for about 30 minutes or until the pain diminishes. The pain from what, the sting or the hot water? The reason hot water works is because the poison is made of thermolabile proteins (I almost wrote thermolabia) which means it's vulnerable to heat.
(Thermolabile proteins sounds to me like the scientific term for hot sex)
And, last and least, people who keep fish are called "aquarists". I didn't know.

This kinda ruins the calming effect of the cute little lionfish in the aquarium at my dentists office.

Down With OTB

The other day my friend and amazing co-worker Rebecca and I were going over our account list trying to find out who's blood we can suck over the next few months. We're fairly organized and keep pretty good notes on customer updates, information, feedback and how many times they ask us to please stop calling. During our review, we came across a note by the owner and head of sales that read, "Ralph has no O-T-B right now". Since he was drunk on margaritas in Mexico we couldn't ask him WTF and just assumed he was crazy, or perhaps it was a sadly failed attempt at being as funny as we are, which is pretty hard to do. Anyway, today this elusive customer must have sensed he was about to get harrassed by us again and called our office first. Again we came across the mysterious O-T-B, but this time I got to find out WTF.

O-T-B means Open To Buy. It's a term used by retail merchandise buyers referring to how much money they have to spend on goods.

So, no O-T-B. I think I'm going to write a song called, "I'm Down With No OTB". Ok, it's not as good as OPP, but I'm not a songwriter.

I gotta go.
Yo.

Wonders Never Cease

Wow.

My ex-husband knows what an epiphany is and can correctly use the word in a sentence. Not only that, he actually had one.

Wow. I wonder if he can spell it?

Live Long and Dirty

What does constipation, rheumatism, arthritis, chronic fatique, heart disease and cancer have in common?

Toothpaste.

What does heart-attack, stroke, sleeplessness, depression, and yes, even AIDS have in common?

Toothpaste.

And in what common household item will you find hidden pain relievers, blood-clotting chemicals and other newer exotic poisons?

You guessed it.

This last Christmas I, make that Santa, brought my 4 year old some pretty expensive bubble bath, and every time we use it, I wonder why it says in giant font, "Contains no Sodium Lauryl/Laureth Sulfate". What the hell do I care about sodium lauryl whatever? I just wanted something that would fit nicely into his stocking. So last night was the end of the soothing and calming blend of overpriced "foam" bath, and today the empty package on my desk prompted me to find out why I should care. I'll try to be brief.

SLS is an inexpensive detergent used in almost everything in our homes used to clean things, from shampoo to garage floor cleaner. Garage floor cleaner? I haven't seen the floor of my garage in years. Anyway, this SLS has amazing penetrating power ( 8----> ) and is easily absorbed into your skin and will stay there for a long time. This is bad for many reasons, one being that SLS has a pretty strong estrogen mimicking quality. As you probably know, estrogen is a mostly feminine hormone, and when this mock estrogen gets into your system, all hell breaks loose, for men and women alike. Things like infertility, gender confusion, breast cancer, and menstrual problems can be the result.

There is so much more that I'm just going to send you here to read more for yourself. I'm also sending you here to see this really really bad website which claims that toothpaste can cause AIDS. And lastly, I will direct you to the beautiful image above, where you can see what a lack of toothpaste can do. I'd say constipation is worth the risk.

Hold the Garlic

I'll bet you think there are no vampyre's where you live. You probably think they only live in big cities and that you've never talked to one before. I'm sure that subconsciously you're aware of them, but you choose to look the other way and pretend they don't exist. I was the same way. But I can guarantee that there are a few walking around right now where you live, with normal lives and normal jobs. Heck, the quiet little newspaper photographer could be one and you wouldn't even know it.

I learned today that there are Vampyre's in this little town where I live. Watch this Portrait of a Vampyre and see for yourself. And I beg you, put aside your fears and your prejudices and embrace these happy, lonely little guys. Vampyres need love too.




For more fun like this, check out Daedalus Howell on YouTube.

Madness

I think Murphy's won the Maaartini Mad

Twelve Years Later...

Tough lesson to write about today, mainly because I don't really know who exactly reads this thing. But, this self-taught lesson is what I learned today, and like it or not, I'm blogging it baby!

If the second biggest (probably the biggest but I'm trying to be a little humble here) account your company has is because you built the relationship, and because it's your designs they keep re-ordering, asks you to design a small line exclusively for them, just shut up, do it and tell the owners later. Especially if designing isn't your main job.

I know this sounds like a brag fest, but seriously, after getting a bunch of unwanted, uninteresting, and dare I say bad "suggestions" from the boss and the main designer today, I asked myself why I even told them what I was working on. And then I was mad at myself because I should have known better after all these years. It was then that I said, "This is it Donna, you are finally going to learn this lesson. Today. Just shut up and let your fabulousness flow."

I'd like to thank Laurence Acland for this perfect image today. Check him out here.

Beauty and the Beast

I was driving home today, stuck in the same old boring traffic, with the same lame ass drivers who still don't understand the concept of merging, surrounded by the same ugly ass scenery, when something beautiful happened. There on the side of the highway, in a little tiny patch of perfect green grass where I once sat and watched traffic while having banana split eating contests, was a scene that made me wish I had my camera with me. Completely oblivious to everything, was a little girl trying desparately to make a wish on a dandelion. So focused and intense, so serious and unaware. So innocent and beautiful. I was glad that traffic had stopped and I could spend 30 seconds watching her. I had time to wonder what she was wishing for. What could she want so badly that she would not give up? Then suddenly, from way up ahead on the highway, this HAG with a near- dead- old- man- who- started- smoking- when- he- was- nine voice slurs out in the loudest big mouth voice I've heard, "GET OVER HERE! HURRY YER ASS UP!"

And then I knew.

I hate people sometimes. Why couldn't this ugly bitch just turn around and see what I saw? Fucking hag.

The Dolphin Dilemmas

I'm in a bit of a dilemma here. It's a small, trivial, silly dilemma, but a dilemma just the same. I hope after writing the word dilemma so many times that I'm spelling it right. Anyway, my dilemma is this; what I learned today came from a blog I like to read, written by someone I know. He is amazing and there's no way I could say it any better than he did. I just feel a little funny about blogging about something he already did, know what I mean? I suppose I could just link over there, and I will, but, you know, I should say something of my own. I'll give it a whirl.

Today I learned from Eric over at Vonneguts Asshole, that sweet little ole dolphins not only like to have porn sex, they like to gang bang. Check it out.

I always had the notion that people who liked dolphins were lesbians. No offense or anything, but I have a memory of hearing that somewhere. Just now I Googled "lesbian dolphins" and found
The Dolphin Democrats,


who's mission statement reads, "It shall be the mission of this organization to foster good will between gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender (GLBT) members of the Democratic Party and the community at large. We seek individual freedom in the framework of a just society and political freedom in the framework of meaningful participation by all citizens."
So, I guess I was right. I wonder how they would feel about their namesake after reading the Asshole blog? Anyway, Go Dolphin Democrats!

I also found several Women Only and gay/lesbian dolphin watching trips, and learned that male Bottlenose Dolphins are "characterized by extensive bisexuality, combined with periods of exclusive homosexuality".
I also found this little gem, on the Best of Craigslist.
It's a rant or something by a girl who likes to do interesting things with her middle finger, as well as speaking 5 different dolphin languages. It's a bit crude but if you can handle this blog, you can probably handle it.

The Micronation of Donna

I just learned something pretty exciting.

You don't need to buy land to start your own country. You don't even need to do a hostile take-over.

Here are some examples at EscapeArtist.com

I'm so happy about learning this. My friend Lala and I have been fantasizing about starting our own country for a long time now. This picture will probably be our flag. If you are smart, awake, and can answer our simple common sense questions, we'll consider letting you become a citizen.

I also learned about personal sovereignty and how I can officially declare myself Queen of my own, one-person country.

To apply for citizenship and have our eligibilty form sent to you, leave a witty comment and I'll make sure you get one.

NEAT-o

I don't know what I learned today. It's Sunday and I'm lazy. As usual. I suppose if I learned anything, it's what I figured out today when calculating what I need to do for the first quarter of this year.

If I want(ed) to lose 20 pounds in 3 months, I need to burn 777 more calories than I inhale, every single day.

So if my body uses 2000 calories a day just living, breathing and scratching my ass, plus another 1000 or so doing the usual getting in and out of my car, walking back and forth to the kitchen, and kicking the stupid printer 20 times, I guess that means I could eat 3000 calories a day and stay the same weight. Right? But if I went to ass-kickboxing every day, which Muscle and Fitness magazine rates at 800 calories burned per hour, (ummmm.... yeah, I wish) could I lose the same weight and keep eating the same food? Or could I lose that 20 pounds by just eating 2000 calories a day instead, and not do any exercise at all? Somehow that sounds like a lot of food for just one day. I'm thinking maybe I'll go for 1,500 calories a day and getting my ass kicked twice a week. Or...

I could start becoming a really serious fidgeter. According to Professor Leonard Storlein, from the Department of Biomedical Science at Wollongong (yes, Wollongong) University, you can burn up to the equivalent of a 6 mile run just by fidgeting, or what doctors call NEAT, NonExercise Activity Thermogenesis, all day long. Unless of course, the Great Moments in Science website is a sham. It's worth a try though.

Happy Birthday Little Sista!

The Morning Shows

I didn't expect to be out until after 3am this morning, but I guess I actually learned something from that.

If you're planning to have a little afternoon meeting with some of the greatest personalities of the best newspaper and radio in town, there's no way you're going to be home before midnight and there's little chance you'll escape a hangover the next day. Also, as the now evening meeting progresses, the number of people attending will triple.

I'd say that I learned not to mix whisky, champagne, wine, more champagne, more whisky and then beer, but I'm pretty sure I already knew that. I must have forgotten.

Even though this learning event started out yesterday, I didn't actually think about it until today when my head stopped pounding, so I think it qualifies as what I learned today. Besides, I already learned some things yesterday, when I did the morning radio show for 3 hours, starting at 7 am.

• Three hours will fly by when you're on the air
• Getting up at 6 am is totally no big deal if you're heading down to the radio station
• I'm a lot more awake at 7 am than I thought possible
• The next time I do it, I'm going to be a little more prepared with more interesting things to talk about
• I won't be afraid to go into more depth and drag a topic out a bit more
• Being on the air isn't exactly like normal, personal conversation
• I totally love doing it!

And they want me to come back as often as I want!

Going Postal

The day after my December mortgage was due, I realized I had no idea where my paycheck was. I had gotten it about a week prior and I was pretty sure I hadn't deposited it yet. So I went to my boss and told him that I think I accidentally mixed it in with the mail and dropped in the blue mail box on my way home. It was in a window envelope which showed my name and where it was supposed to go, but had no return address. Or postage. Truthfully, I had no idea if that's what really happened. It was probably just lost in my car somewhere. Since I couldn't tell him that, I made up a logical-ish explanation and he was very understandable. The next day I fed my starving checking account with a new check and life went on. But today.....

I learned that I actually factually did mix my check in with the mail.

Today we got a letter at the office from the United States Postal Service with a note and a picture of my long lost paycheck. It said something like, "Sometimes we get mail that we don't know what to do with. In these cases the law says we can open it up and to find out what to do with it. To protect your privacy, we have properly disposed of it by shredding. Here is a picture of your check." (If anyone wants the actual factual wording, I'll be happy to copy it verbatim tomorrow when I get back to the office, but I swear, it's almost exactly as stupid as I've written above.) And there it was. A picture of the paycheck I had abused so badly.
I was pretty pissed when I saw this.
First of all, it was pretty fucking obvious that inside this badly mailed WINDOW envelope was a check. I don't work at the post office, but I'm pretty sure I could identify an envelope containing a check by looking at it. Especially one with a little window on it. A check would signify importance to me if I were the one at the post office who's big important job is solving the mysteries of mail. This would signify importance to any moron, I would think.
Secondly, wouldn't it have made more sense to just send it "postage due" to the person who's address information they did have? I'll bet it cost more money and took more time to take a (rather damn good) photo of it, and waste the paper mailing me this redundant, assinine letter. And why, OH, why, wouldn't they have at the very very least, just returned the actual check?

So. I guess I actually learned something new about the USPS today too.

Death Domain

I've been looking around at my site stats the last few days (ok, I check them every day. several times.) and I've been noticing two things that are bringing me a lot of traffic.
My Phallic Phriday posting somehow got linked on a site called Penis Size Links. Penis size links? It's been surprising to see how many referrals come from them, and funny that most of them are in France.
Another hot one is from my Anti MADD Magazine posting. Why are so many people searching for Anti MADD? I had to know so I did a little searching myself. Today it appears that I've learned some pretty useless medical trivia.

Besides being a Mothers Against Drunk Drivers hater, anti MADD can refer to an antibody for something called a Mitogen-Activated Death Domain protein. I don't exactly know what the hell that means because all the medical terminology I could find meant nothing to my brilliant yet unaccustomed brain, but I was intrigued by the DD part and looked further into that. A Death Domain is something in every cell of our bodies that regulates apoptosis, which is the natural process of programmed cell death. Apoptosis is important in several ways, one being that if at the right time during our fetal development, the cells between our fingers didn't die off, we'd look a little something like this picture here. I think about 1 in 50 people are born with Syndactyly, which is webbed feet. Stupid women who smoke up to 10 cigarettes a day during pregnancy are 27% more likely to have a baby with abnormal fingers and toes.

Ashton Kutcher has webbed feet.

And I don't mind at all.

National Day of Mourning

I just went down to the post office to get the mail, where I learned the post office is closed today to observe the national day of mourning for our former president, Gerald Ford. The banks are closed too.

Even the nice little old lady trying to bust in the doors at the post office thought this was ridiculous. "Wasn't his memorial yesterday for Christ's sake?"

I'm more in mourning for the closed bank and the fact that I won't be getting my Netflix today, although I heard from someone, I think my boss maybe, that Ford wrote a book to be released posthumously which makes me like him and feel a little sad.

Mounds of Shells

Another day, another month, another year, all at once. So what do I choose to do with this special day? Go to Ikea. I'm nowhere near a shopaholic and I generally hate malls and buying crap made in China, but in order to keep my resolution for a neater, more organized life this year, I needed some more stuff. Ikea is about an hour away from where I live, so going there is a big deal and a few times a year, we go and make a day out of it.
Today, on the way home, I noticed something on Shellmound Street that I'd never noticed before. Right on the corner was this big Teletubby green hill with a fountain squirting out of the side of it. It was the ugliest, most retarded thing I've seen since that Suri Cruise turd sculpture thing.
Now, I am a true lover of art and I can appreciate most kinds of expression, but sometimes I see a ginormous piece of crap in a public setting and I fucking hate it. I wasn't really sure this thing was art or not, so incredulously, I turned to my driver, aka the Colonel, and asked, "What the hell is that hill thing supposed to represent?", to which he said, "The shell mound". He started telling me what I thought was one of his best bullshit answers yet. (Remember, we are on Shellmound Street with the sign hanging right in front of us). He proceeds to tell me about how the native Americans who used to live here long ago had made huge piles of shells, discarded from shellfish meals provided by the nearby sea. He said these mounds were all over this area, but they were bulldozed and built over. This fountain thing probably was meant as a respectful memorial of the people who lived here first.
When I got home, I looked it up.

He was right.

Lyckligt nytt år!!
(Happy New Year, in Swedish)
(Even though I noticed that almost everything in Ikea was designed in Sweden but made in China)
(Which pisses me off)