Wednesday, September 29, 2010

I Had a Turn Down Dream

Monday night my dreams betrayed me.

For those of you who do not know, I have an internet crush on Mr. Day[9].  Monday night I had a dream about him.

In the dream I had some dream friends that did not resemble anyone I actually know who were getting married.  Somehow I was a part of this wedding and we were having a friend/getting to know you night out with all the wedding party people.  At the dinner Mr. Day[9] sat across the table from me.  We instantly hit it off.  We made jokes and laughed.  I think at one point we made some sort of joke/reference to an Alanis Morissette song.

The group was leaving the restaurant and were heading to some sort of bar or something.   It was cold and dark outside and I had on a pair of fingerless gloves made from some scrap sock yarn I actually have.  As we were walking and laughing Day[9] coyly slid his hand into mine.

I stopped walking, turned to him and said, "Sean (his real name) I should tell you that I'm engaged.  I like you but I can't you know, do this."  He smiled, smiled said he understood and let go of my hand.  At that point, dream me was like 'damn why did I wear gloves?!'  Instead, he offered to be my escort and keep other guys from hitting on me or doing something uncouth.  For the rest of the night we hung out as friends and it was great.

I woke up and was so disappointed in dream me.  Seriously, it was a dream, not real, why oh why did you say that?!  I drifted back to sleep for a few minutes after this dream and Day[9] was there again.  This time I was single in the dream and we were about to set up information for a date when Fred decided it was time to wake up and mewed in my face.  Damn cats.

I heart you too Day[9].

Saturday, July 24, 2010

The Story of My Birth Is Pretty Epic

I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say the story of my birth is pretty epic.  Okay, maybe not epic, but I think it's a pretty good story.  In fact, in high school I had to write a autobiographical story and chose to tell the following tale.  My teacher said she would have thought it was fake if she didn't know my cousin and heard great Novak tales from her.

It all started one July evening around 6:00 or 7:00 p.m.  My mom was at home with my brother (age 6) watching reruns of the Brady Bunch.  Her water broke and it was action time.  Grandman Dorthy picked up my brother and my mother headed to Novak Liquor to get my dad and they could go to the hospital.

My mom rushed into the store in a panic.  She was ready to get to the hospital and get this baby out.  My dad was calm and collected.  He told her not to worry and that they had plenty of time.  Dad had my mom sit behind the counter while he kept the store open and helped customers (it's a one man opperation).  So there they sat, timing contractions and talking to customers until 9:00 p.m. when my mom had had enough.  She wanted to go the hospital and she wanted to go right then!

For the first time in Novak Liquor history, the store closed early.  In my lifetime I can only think of two occasions where the store closed, for the funerals of my grandparents who had opened the store. 

Instead of heading to the hospital, my dad stopped at his parents' house that was right across the street from the store.  He did this every day he got off work to visit with them.  They chatted casually until my mom was fuming with anger.  Grandma Rose suggested that he might want to get her to the hospital.

They finally made it to the hospital around 10:30-11 p.m.  The night nurses got her settled in and my calm, collected dad started to panic.  He kept trying to leave the room.  My dad is squimish when it comes to pain.  My mom refused to let him leave and to keep him calm would laugh whenever it hurt rather than scream or cry out.  I mean, if you've ever seen any sort of real birth, you're familiar with the terrible sounds that emit from a woman.  Imagine instead loud bursts of laughter.  And David Letterman because that's what they were watching. 

Around 12:30 a.m. the nurses were frantically calling my mother's doctor to come in and get this birth underway.  He told them not to worry, I probably wouldn't come out until 6 or 7 a.m.  This doctor did not understand how badly I wanted out. 

At 1:10 a.m. on July 24, 1987 I came into the world.  The nurses were in a panic.  The only delivery doctor wasn't available because there was another couple who had gone into labor an hour or so before me.  They had to get me out themselves.  My dad was so excited he couldn't remember the weight and length so a nurse wrote it down for him on a post-it.   He still carries it in his wallet to this day. 

This story may not seem very epic right now, but if you ever hear me or my parents tell it in person you'll understand why I think it's so great.  I mean, I was almost born in the liquor store.  If my dad had waited until closing (11:30 p.m.) it would have been too late. 

In 9th grade we had to write a short autobiographical sotry of your life and I chose this one.  My teacher said that if she hadn't known my cousins she would have thought it was a work of fiction. 

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Moving Complete (Almost)

All of our furniture has been moved!  The only thing left in our apartment is random junk on the counter and some dishes in the cabinet.  Oh, and stuff in the fridge.  Other than that we're set.

I've unpacked all of the bedroom and 'master' bath.  Henry unpacked the kitchen.  We now have a larger pile of empty boxes than stuff to unpack.  We have a lot of crap.

Henry is obsessed with this chair his mom bought at an estate sale.  It's apparently a Transformer.

Also, I've made it to the cloud section of the back of the sweater.  Finally.

End of line

P.S. -Don't worry, I'm actually working on interesting posts that are not about moving.

Monday, June 21, 2010


Henry and I are in the process of moving all our crap from this tiny apartment to a nice sized house.  Needless to say, the apartment is a mess, the house is only clean because everything is still in a box, and I don't know where I packed everything.

Next weekend we hope to be moved into the house (we're getting the internet switched over to there Friday morning).  We've already moved over a bunch of stuff, but still have a lot more to do.  All the big furniture needs to go and we haven't packed up anything in the kitchen.  I'll probably be pretty busy this week.

My knitting is at a stand still while moving.  I've almost reached the arm hole decreases for the Mario sweater.  The sooner I get done with this project the happier I'll be.  I've been working a little bit on some old projects and have also been working on some blog post drafts.  Once we move, expect to see some more posts.

That's all for now.  Here's a picture of my cat strung out on catnip at Christmas 2006.

Monday, May 24, 2010

I Hate Teenagers

I hate teenagers.  I hated teenagers when I was a teenager.  They're crazy, hormonal, and have yet to learn the consequences of their actions.  But most importantly, they start and participate in stupid trends!  This news story about teenage werewolves really irritates me.

First of all, they're not that original.  Furries, anyone?  They make a point to say that they're not goth or emo.  I'm pretty sure those groups wouldn't allow them to join.  "Sorry, your fake tail distracts from the dark pain of our souls."  They're not the only group of kids who don't feel like they fit in and they won't be the last.  Like the counselor said, they're just expressing themselves.

Speaking of the adults, I do like the fact that the school administration did stand up for them by saying they are not a threat to the learning environment and do not disrupt the lives of other students.  Rarely does a school allow 'strange' behavior such as this and also defend it to the public.  Really, the group's rebellion is ruined because the adults 'get it.'  They know why they're doing it and they don't care.  I'm sure they did crazier shit.  That's why I like the mom at the end of the clip.  She doesn't stop him, but also doesn't allow him to be a whiny wolf bitch in the house and it's not like they're drinking baby's blood or something.

Second, these kids are really fucking dumb.  The girl they interview who said that gangs were just posers looking for attention was asking for trouble.  Yeah, maybe some 'gangs' in your school are posers, but there are real gangs in big cities, you know, like the one you live in that are probably related to the poser ones in your school.  You are asking to get your ass kicked.  Although, since your group hangs out IN FRONT OF A MALL, you probably live in the suburbs and have never seen a real gang of any sort.

Third, THEY HANG OUT IN FRONT OF A MALL!  If that doesn't scream, loser group that does really want to fit in with the popular kids, but can't because they're 'different' so decide to hang out where the cool kids might to feel a little more cool, I don't know what does.  Sorry to burst your bubble, but the cool kids are probably just stopping by the mall to get a new outfit because they have a kick ass party to go to and drink cheap beer and wine coolers.  They don't hang out at the mall in the afternoon.  Only poser kids do that.

I would tell you to go hang out in someone's basement, but how will you be able to stick it to the man (mall security)?  You need to be able to be a smart-ass to someone of authority to feel young and non-conformist.  Also, hanging out in front of the mall must be convenient when you find out that everyone else has on four chains when you only have three.  You're right by the Hot Topic to pick up a new one.

Fourth, I hate their contacts.  I remember those being new and cool when my brother was a teenager in the late 90s.  They aren't new anymore and you look ridiculous wearing them outside the month of October.  I think the thing I hated the most about it was the damn kids with the contacts and then wearing fucking glasses.  Fucking posers to the max.  They do make those cat eye contacts that also function like actual contacts.  Of course I bet that those contacts and black framed glasses are all cosmetic.

When I was a kid I really wanted braces and glasses because I thought they would make me look cool (I guess I thought being a dork was the ultimate cool).  I did end up with both (but had switched to contacts before the braces) and did not look any more cool.  I switched back to my glasses because my contacts were killing my fucking eyes!  I have a small muddy ring around my irises from wearing bad contacts prescribed by my doctor that were fucking killing those cells. So no, your contacts and glasses do not make you look more unique or express your true identity, they make you look like a stupid poser who will probably go blind from this fashion choice.

What happened to just having goth kids?  I liked them.  We got along well.  Or even goat ropers.  At least they didn't wear tails around.

Monday, May 10, 2010

Sleeping Is Hard

I have a hard time getting to sleep.  Every night.  This might be because I probably have RLS (damn genetics).  Either way I decided to look up insomnia on Wikipedia.

According to the Wikipedia page there are three types of insomnia, transient, acute, and chronic.  I do not have any of those.  I have this issue every night.  I am never tired at night.  If I ever am tired, it is not enough to cause me to sleep.  I do have one of the four patterns of insomnia!  Onset insomnia!  Usually the cause of an anxiety disorder!  Let's take a look at the anxiety disorder page.  Yes, I probably have anxiety due to stress.

I do have social anxiety disorder (SAD).  You're probably thinking, 'You can't have SAD.  You seem pretty normal and social.'  Wrong!  I panic around people.  I hate parties or gatherings even if I know everyone.  I tend to panic and feel ill.  I also fear using the telephone.  The thought of calling someone, especially someone I don't know and trying to ask a question or hold a conversation freaking me out.  I will refuse to call places or people unless absolutely necessary.  I will spend five to ten minutes hyping myself up to make the call.  I will rehearse what I want to say, probably chicken out for a second, hyperventilate, compose myself, make the call all while shaking, hang up, and spend the next five minutes trying to lower my heart rate.  I've some what forced myself to get over this fear by working at places where I have to answer the phone.  At first it was really hard, but when I'm at work I'm the person with the power and so answering the phone is easier.  I still have issues with calling people. I just can't do it.

My fear of phones might also be because my brother convinced me that they were actually bombs that would blow up if you left the phone off the hook and it started to beep.  He used to leave the phone off the hook so that when it would start beeping I would come running, screaming, possibly tearing up, and slam the phone back on the hook.  Everyone thought it was hilarious, except me.  This might also be why I hate any repetitive beeping or ticking.  

I will also rehearse having conversations with people in my head before I see them.  I'm sure I could go on about how crippling my social anxiety disorder is, but that is not the topic of this post.  Anyway, maybe SAD is the reason why I can't sleep.

Back to insomnia, maybe I don't produce enough melatonin.  That might be why I cannot fall asleep ever.  My former roommate Jordan used to have melatonin vitamins that she would take sometimes to regulate her sleep cycle.  Man, she would take one and be out like a light in about 30 minutes.  Nothing could wake her up either until the morning.  I've tried to find these vitamins to try to get my sleep cycle back to something reasonable, but I cannot find them anywhere.  Apparently, they're pretty illegal in other countries, but not in the US.  My local Target does not sell it.  Henry thought I was making it up (the vitamin, not the actual existence of melatonin).  I did end up getting some Target brand generic sleep aid pills.  They work a little, but usually aren't strong enough.

Then I thought, maybe I have fatal familial insomnia.  But then I realized no one in my family has ever had it.  But damn, it sounds fascinating.  You start with some insomnia leading to panic attacks, paranoia, and phobias.  Then you start to hallucinate and have more pronounced panic attacks.  Eventually you cannot sleep again and lose a whole bunch of weight.  It ends with dementia and then you die.  Wouldn't that just suck?

I probably don't have any type of insomnia.  I probably just suck at falling asleep.  

Sound Noise

The following are the most commonly heard phrases in our apartment.  Enjoy.

  • Dammit Henry.
  • I'm a bear.
  • I'm a cat.
  • Meow
  • Woof
  • Rwar
  • I has a hat.
  • Do you like my hat?
  • You do it.
  • You're closer.  
  • Is this clean?
  • Do you smell that?
  • I am Mega Man.  Here's my mega plan.
  • Hey Roof Cat.
  • The fishies agree with me.
  • Did you feed the fishies?
  • Eh...
  • Are you a bear?
  • Why is this in the middle of the floor?
  • I'm hungry.
  • It's hot.
  • I'm cold.
  • Please?
  • Hello (not in greeting, but repeated back and forth over and over)
  • I tweeted it. or I will post that on twitter.
  • I blame you, Henry.
  • I shared things with you.
That's all I can think of right now.  I'm sure we say stranger things, but we're probably too embarrassed to admit them.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

"We are rock stars"

Last night, Henry and I were really hungry.  We've had take out for all of our meals recently because we're too lazy to go grocery shopping.  Too tired to think of a place to eat at 9:30 p.m., we got in the car and drove all the way to the Walmart on Cantrell. You'd think we'd go to the one a block away, but it's really creepy and closes at 10:00 p.m.  I cannot remember the last time we went grocery shopping during the day.  We used to go to Kroger and the one on Chenal is supposed to be open 24 hours, but when we go there late at night the doors are blocked by carts, indicating to us that they're closed.

We went to the store with the intention of getting groceries, but also to pick up something for dinner that night.  Once inside, I lament that we should get a Sam's card and save more money and get things in bulk (like peanut butter, because SOMEONE really, really likes to eat it all the time [not me]).  Henry just had to point out that we would have to go during the day, you know, when the sun is out and stuff.  I think they should just be open later.  I don't have time to go during the day unless I actually get up early in the morning, which, let's face it, never happens.  Or that we could go on the weekend, but I'll never remember to go do that.  I'm lucky if I remember what day it is.

Before we had left for the store we tried to take stock of what we needed.  I think as soon as we got in the car we forgot most of what we came up with.  It's like a really bad matching game when you go to the store without a shopping list.  You wonder if you need that block of cheese, decide that you cannot live without it, and come home to find that you already had three perfectly good blocks of cheese.  Thankfully, we are not over run with cheese (just one block for tacos and crackers).

Most of the grocery trip was menial, do we need this?  Will we ever get around to eating that?  Sort of deal.  Although, we did have a good discussion of chip and dip preferences.  With regards to cheese dip, tortilla chips are the top way to go, but once in awhile Fritos and Ruffles are delicious.  We ended up getting some pre-made cheese dip, salsa, and tortilla chips.

The last stop on our shopping journey was the ice cream aisle of happiness.  There are two types of giant ice cream containers, Blue Bunny and Country Rich.  Now, Blue Bunny is a big, round container, while Country Rich is a space saver, square tub.  Blue Bunny is seven dollars, while Country Rich was on sale for five dollars.  The following debate occurred.

Me:  Which one, Blue Bunny or Country Rich?

Henry:  Blue Bunny.

Me:  That's a seven dollar tub of ice cream.  Country Rich is only five.

Henry:  But it looks weird!  It probably tastes weird too.

Me:  Fine, which flavor, chocolate chip or cookies and cream?

Henry:  Chocolate chip.

Me:  I want cookies and cream.

Henry:  Too bad, maybe you shouldn't have asked me which one I wanted.

We got the chocolate chip.

On our way to the checkout lane I asked what we were going to eat for dinner.

Me:  What are we going to eat for dinner?

I looked in the cart and surveyed what we had picked up.  None of it screamed, 'we're perfect to eat for dinner right now.'  Maybe it's a good thing food isn't talking to me, yet.

Me:  Chips and cheese dip?

Henry:  Yep.  We are rock stars.

Fruit Loops

I've never been a huge fan of Fruit Loops.  Last weekend I inhaled the aroma of a lime and thought, 'hey, that smells like Fruit Loops.'  Since then I have been dying to get my hands on a nice bowl of the multi-colored loops that taste like sugar and nothing like fruit.  This morning my dream was achieved.

Henry and I were watching Modern Family when we had to pause the playback so that Hulu could freaking buffer and not stall on us.  Henry went to the kitchen to get himself a glass of soda.  I took advantage of his proximity to the cereal and milk I so desired.  

Me:  Oh!  Oh!  Oh!  Do you know what would make you the best person is the whole wide world?!  

Henry stares at me waiting to hear my probably crazy follow up.

Me:  If you got me a bowl of Fruit Loops.

Henry:  I assume you want milk?

Me:  Yes and a spoon!

Henry:  Did you need to tell me you wanted a spoon?

Me:  Well, I felt I had to clarify since I only asked for a bowl and you had to ask me about the milk.  I'd rather you know that I'd also like a spoon than to get no spoon at all.  

As he poured my bowl of cereal, I commented once again that limes smell like Fruit Loops.  I watched as he stuck his face towards the opening of the box and inhaled.  

Henry:  I will agree the Fruit Loops smell a little like limes.  

Me:  Limes smell like Fruit Loops!

Henry:  Yes, but limes were around before Fruit Loops, but I guess you knew Fruit Loops before limes.

Me:  You've figured out my logic.  

It's true.  I knew all about Fruit Loops before I was ever introduced to limes.  In fact, I cannot remember the first time I saw a lime in real life.  I don't think I even tasted an actual lime until I did that one shot of Patron.   Even then I thought that the lime tasted like Fruit Loops.  I think I might like limes.  Or Fruit Loops.  It's hard to tell.  

Tuesday, April 27, 2010


Henry and I have been reading a lot of Hyperbole and a Half recently.  I told him that her logic is how I think or see a lot of things.  It's really like being in my brain.  Henry thinks I should be more honest about my 'crazy' thoughts and write them down or verbalize them.  I told him I tried that when I was nine and it did not work out in my favor, but I would try again now.  It's not like my craziness is going to affect anything since he's the only one who really reads this anyway.  What better way to start off this honesty with a post about when I learned not to say what I was really thinking out loud.

When I was nine, my family visited the Sea World park in Ohio.  There was an attraction there where you would stand on a moving sidewalk that went through a glass tunnel under the shark tank.  About half way through this attraction, I turned to my family and said the following, "I'm glad none of these sharks are suicidal.  They'd swim through the glass and start attacking everyone.  And everyone would be all starts flailing arms about and screaming, while the shark was trying to take as many people with it as it could."  My father, mother, and brother just stared at me.  It was as if they had just watched another head sprout out of my neck.  If anyone said anything I cannot remember it now.  And this incident has never been spoken of again by any of them.  That was when I learned to keep my crazy thoughts to myself.  No one will understand them and they will just stare at you like you are a three headed dog.

My mother once told me that the main piece of advice she would give people who were watching me was, "nod your head and smile."  Now whenever someone does that to me when I talk to them I feel self-conscious about what I am saying.  I assume they think I'm crazy.  So be prepared to read more crazy posts about what I am really thinking.

Monday, April 26, 2010

Dancing With Myself

It's no surprise that I adore the show Glee.  It's quirky, sometimes smart, and has musical numbers!  I feel giddy when I can curl up on the couch for an hour a week and really get into a show like this.  One of my favorite things about it are the musical numbers.  They're incorporated into the show through actual glee club performances or character dream sequences.  Most of the time they don't feel forced, but rather feel like a natural thing for the characters to do.

Their song catalog so far has been very impressive.  They've covered 80's ballads, recent hip-hop numbers, and some good old fashioned malt shop numbers.  My all time favorite cover (so far) on the show is 'Dancing with Myself' as sung by Kevin Michael McHale playing the wheel-chair bound character Artie (video here).  His cover is a version of the cover done by Nouvelle Vague.  The song was originally done by the band Generation X (which consisted of Tony James and Billy Idol) and was later covered by Idol on his self-titled album.  

The song seems to fit the character at that moment so well.  He's different from all the other Glee kids not by popularity, but because he is bound to his chair.  He can't ride the same bus they get to ride to regionals and getting into the auditorium for practice is quite a difficulty.  He also cannot move around and perform like the other kids.  Rather than be pitied by his peers, they see him as just another person.  All the difficulties he has to face to be a part of the group do not bother them and they assume he's used to it because that's just how he has to do things.  Sure, he's nice enough to write it off and agree with them, but just like Mr. Shue, I feel bad for the kid.  He deserves better.  He should be able to ride the same bus and be a part of the fun of the ride rather than be stuck riding with his dad.

Anyway, back to the song.  I've always liked this song.  There's something about the beat and lyrics that make me feel like moving around and lonely at the same time.  I know that doesn't sound like a good combination, but when you're feeling down it's nice to dance around to a song that best expresses that feeling.    That might also be why I enjoy this song so much.

So go dance with yourself!  Note:  I do not mean go masterbate.  That is not what the song is about even though it sounds like it.  It's actually about a dance club in Tokyo.  Fun facts!

Edit:  My font formating refuses to cooperate with this post.  I cannot kill it with fire.

Sunday, April 25, 2010


I've spent the last three hours trying to find a nice, lace-like scarf to knit for spring/summer.  I cannot find one I like or that would require a lot of blocking.  I thought maybe I could make up a pattern, but my brain refuses to work today.

I want to use up about 80-100 yards of leftover bamboo silk yarn in a royal blue like color.  Or I could use a bright aqua-like blue cotton yarn, of which I have two 109 yard balls.

I plan to make this scarf when the pattern comes out, but until then I want to make a more lace-like scarf.  Or I could make a pair of long, fingerless gloves with the aqua yarn to prep for the winter.  Eh, I'll figure something out.

The Mall

I've had this coupon for The Limited for about a month (usable from April 5th to 25th).  During that period I always found an excuse to not go to the mall.  I kept thinking about how I have to go to work and then I told myself I should wait until my next paycheck.  Sure, I could have gone on Thursday or Friday when I was off work, but I didn't want to go by myself.  I feel that going to the mall by myself would just make me sad, angry, and cranky.  I'd have to park, walk in, look at stuff I won't buy, think of something witty about what I was looking at, forget what it was by the time I see someone I know so I could tell them, they won't think it's funny because they weren't there, try stuff on, get annoyed because what I really like doesn't fit, but what I can moderately tolerate does, settle for something I don't really like, pay, get back to the car, drive back home, park, walk up the hill, walk up the stairs, unlock the door, close the door, lock the door again, put down the bag, sit on the couch.  As you can see that's way too exhausting.

Yesterday I told Henry that I was going to finally go today, dammit!  I know that places tend to have weird hours on Sunday so I looked up the mall hours.  Noon to 6 p.m. on Sunday?!  Fuck you mall!  It's like they knew I'd have to work from 12:45 to 5:15 without enough time to get to work or make it to the mall before closing.  I imagine the building itself is laughing at me.

I realized while writing this post that I could just order stuff online.  But how will I know if it fits?! 

Wednesday, April 21, 2010


I payed a Comcast bill today.  It was a confusing bill with many rebates and extra charges.  We had cancelled our cable at the end of February, but when we got the March bill they hadn't actually cancelled our service.  We had to get them to update the billing. They would not send us a new bill, but told us to come back and pay.  Which we did so the next week.  The next bill showed that they had removed the old charges, but that we had a leftover balance from the internet.  Now, on the paper bill it actually showed this charge as a subtraction and then a new charge.  What I want to know is what the hell did I pay last time?  They didn't give us an itemized bill or anything, we just went in, gave them the account number and paid something.

Today the lady showed us the screen of our account.  It was a terrible user interface.  Everything was grey, blue, and black.  It reminded me of the old DOS stuff.  We finally figured out/she explained that the leftover balance was added after we had made that payment.  I'm still pretty sure that we have now paid what we were not supposed to pay when we complained about our bill being wrong the first time.

I don't think there is anything we can do about it either since there is no paper bill for that adjusted bill.  I feel confused and sad and violated.  To quote Henry, "Maybe this is why they're one of the top four worst companies in America."

The Nexus One

So, I really want a Nexus One.  Look at it.  It is beautiful.  I have decided I need a new phone.  I would rather get a smartphone rather than a regular phone because if I'm going to be stuck with a phone for two years I want it to be awesome.

The iPhone is cool, but everyone has a freaking iPhone. Plus I am not a huge fan of their app censorship policy.  The Palm Pre and Pixi are cute, but their shape and keyboard are not something I would like to use all the time.  I do love the Droid.  I'm a fan of the OS and the phone itself, but I really just want a Nexus One.

The Nexus One calls to my soul.  It wants me to touch it, to hold it.  I think I'm in love.  With my current income it is feasible to purchase said phone and pay it's monthly bill and not end up in the poor house.  I still can't bring myself to buy said phone for fear that something terrible will happen and I'll need that money right back.  I was determined to get one this week but then Henry's statistics project went crazy and we had to put it down before it ate up all our finances.  Maybe next pay period?

I just remembered that I have to go pay the Comcast bill today.  Fuck Comcast.

Crazy Old Man Pt. 1

When you work at a library you meet all sorts of interesting characters.  There are the nice homeless people, the crazy homeless people, drug addicts, people who just got arrested and released (the library is in front of the police booking station), nice kids, damn kids with their skateboards, and of course crazy old people.  There is one crazy old man in particular that comes to the library almost every day.  This Crazy Old Man (COM) loves to talk and talk even though you may try to ignore him.  When I started working at the library I was warned by other co-workers about him and had a few very brief experiences with him.  Today, I was not so lucky.

While working by myself at the upstairs desk, COM comes old person shuffling up to the desk.  He first asks me where a certain female co-worker is stationed.  I tell him she is in the computer lab, but he does not leave to seek her out and stays there chatting to me.  I think it is because he fears computers.  He comments that it is too bad that she is married cause he wants a wife.  COM asks me if I was married, I quickly respond yes even though I am not to keep him from thinking he has a chance.  He goes on to tell me that he wants a wife because there is no marriage in the kingdom of heaven so he has to get one before he dies.  He also says he wants one that is 'fixed' with a hysterectomy because he does not want to have children.  He thinks they are a drain on finances and a pain, but he also went on to say that he likes kids in the same breath.

He decides to sit at one the chairs behind me and asks if I could get him two of yesterday's newspapers from the closet.  I grab the keys from the drawer and head over to previously mentioned closet and he offers to hold the door open for me.  I tell him that the door will stay open automatically and that there is no need for him to stand there.  He says he does it for everyone else, but I did not want to be trapped in a closet by a creepy old man.  When I get to the closet door I realize that the key to open it is not on the key ring.  I inform COM about the situation and he sighs and tells me that this happened yesterday.  COM is convinced it is a liberal conspiracy between the government and the library to keep the Wall Street Journal away from him.  At this point I am desperate to find the damn key to get those papers because my feeble mind thinks it will keep him from talking to me.  There is no closet key to be found.  At this point I realize I am trapped.  I frantically send Henry an email asking him to call the library so I could sound busy and important on the phone and to keep him from talking.  My plea for help was read too late.

COM loudly asks me what church I attend.  I tell him that I am actually Jewish, even though I am not (but would like to be).  Secretly I hope that he hates Jewish people and will stop talking to me.  Big mistake.  He loves Jewish people!  He then tells me that he wants to marry a Jewish woman because he thinks they make good spouses.  His reasoning is based on the fact that his sister or cousin Mary had been married to two other men, but that didn't work out ("With a name like Collin you would have thought he was a good guy").  But then she married a Jewish man whose name he could not remember, but was a diplomat.  They moved to Israel and he has not heard from her since.  He thinks they're back in the United States, but he does not know.  The simple fact that he thinks things worked out between them and that she is okay because he has not heard from her blows my mind.  He also tells me about all the Jewish people he has ever known.  I feel it is important to point out that whenever COM describes a woman he ALWAYS mentions race, how attractive he found her, her attractive or unattractive features, and her name if he can remember it.

My strategy was to flat out ignore the man until he went away, but apparently ignoring him gives him the impression that he should just continue talking.  He asks me if I know a guy named Gordon who works at the McDonalds a few blocks away.  I tell him, no, I do not know this man.  He continues to go on about where Gordon lives and how he thinks he got messed up in 'the war' and that Gordon does not like it when COM talks to him and has told him so.  COM does not get why Gordon does not like him and does not talk to him even though Gordon will talk with other people.  I get why Gordon does not talk to him.  I wish Gordon could keep him from talking to me.  By this point I have walked away from the desk to the magazine racks and meticulously straighten stacks of old magazines to keep myself far away from this man.

He asks me if I have kids.  I shake my head no rather than verbally communicate anything with the slight hope that it might deter him from asking more questions.  He tells me that I should get myself 'fixed' as soon as possible.  If I had a dollar for every time this man has told me about how all women should be 'fixed' I'd have like, fifty bucks.  He asks me if I live in North Little Rock, again I shake my head no.  I do not want this man to know where I live.  He accepts this as a good reason for me to not be familiar with the area, him, or Gordon.

A ray of hope appears in the form of co-worker Ashley who has come to take over the station while I head back downstairs.  I talk with her for awhile about how to close the second floor because it was her first night to do so.  I see that COM is shuffling down the stairs and I hope that he has left the building.  When I get to the first floor I see the brown windbreaker clad COM standing at the desk talking to co-worker Marissa and a part of my soul dies.  Why was this happening to me?

Tune in tomorrow for Crazy Old Man Pt 2:  Desk of Doom.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

New Job

I got a new job last week working at the Laman Library.  I'm now what one may call a "librarian."  So far it's been pretty awesome.  That's all really....

The Mario Sweater, It Begins....

I've started on the sweater!

I have modified the pattern a bit by shortening the rib at the bottom to 1.25" rather than 1.75" per Henry's request.  I'm knitting it on size 2, 14" needles.  I went to Michael's Sunday to find a long, size 2 circular, but the smallest size they had was a 6.  It made me sad/mad.  I was going to try Hobby Lobby on Monday, but the outside world turned into a winter wonderland.  So far it's working out and I'll probably keep it on the straight needles.

For the bright green bush, I dyed some of the cream yarn with Lemon-Lime Kool-Aid.  It was pretty fun and was not very hard at all.  The yarn got a tiny bit felted, but I've knitted the bush already and it still looks good.  It was a nice, inexpensive way to dye yarn.  It takes one package of Kool-Aid which only costs 20 cents.  Of course, I forgot to pick some up when I went grocery shopping so I had to go to Kroger right when the after church crowd went shopping and a few hours before the Super Bowl.  It was totally worth it though.  I'd rather spend 40 cents (got two packets in case I messed up) than over three dollars for a jar of dye.

The color work is going alright.  It's instaria work on the bushes and a combination of instaria and fair isle on Mario.  I'm worried about how these sections are going to look when I finish, but I'm sure I can fix it up during the blocking process.  I also don't have the black yarn yet (knit picks was sold out) and will have to do duplicate stitch over the sweater when they get some in.

I have also had a bit of trouble in trying to see exactly what color is supposed to be used.  There are more shades in the color chart than listed for yarn.  It's been one big guessing game.  I just hope Mario doesn't look strange.

Note:  I wrote this post a long time ago and was going to add on, but never did.  I've finished the front half already and will write up a new post about that process.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Awaiting Arrival

I am so excited.  I should be receiving the yarn to make Henry the Super Mario Sweater Vest.  The package left Memphis Thursday night, so hopefully I'll get it tomorrow.  I am excited to start my first sweater.  Hopefully I can swatch it up and then go buy the right length needle.

I'm just so excited I needed to make a post about it.

Sunday, January 31, 2010

Blessing of Kings

Paladins, in groups and raids, bring a wide range of buffs to a group. Every paladin can do Blessing of Kings, Blessing of Wisdom, and Blessing of Might. It seems that in every five man or ten man (with only one paladin) everyone only wants Blessing of Kings.

Blessing of Kings is great. It's a simple 10% buff to all stats that everyone benefits from. Blessing of Might is supposed to be good for melee classes (and hunters), but a warrior's Battle Shout can overwrite it. This happens all the time if the blessing is done by a paladin not talented for the improved Blessing of Might. Blessing of Wisdom used to have the same problem when used in conjunction with Mana Spring Totem until patch 3.1.2. Blessing of Wisdom would be ideal for mana users, especially healers. Even with change to keep it from being overwritten, it seems more practical to use Blessing of Kings over Wisdom when the totem can provide extra mp5, anyway. Plus, many mana dependent classes have talents and gear that gives them good mana regeneration. Plus, it's a pain in the ass to use up all those symbol of kings on a raid when those dirty druids, mages, and priests get to use only one reagent to buff the whole raid.

So, with all that seemingly unnecessary set up, here's my idea on how to change Blessing of Kings into something that makes all the Blessings usable in a group/raid.

Get Rid of Blessing of Kings

The stat bonus can be rolled into the two other blessings and allow Blessing of Sanctuary to be cast by all paladins. Blessing of Sanctuary already gives an extra 10% strength and stamina in addition to damage reduction and mana regeneration (mana regen could also be rage regen for other classes). Blessing of Wisdom could give 10% to intellect and spirit while Blessing of Might would give 10% to strength and agility. All in addition to what they already do.

This way everyone gets what they want and Blessing of Wisdom and Blessing of Might are no longer bastard children ignored in my spell book.