It's Raining Because You're In Florida and It's Hurricane Season for Crying Out Loud

Remember this moment from early on in Gilmore Girls?

I'm sure everyone's gotten far past season one by now (even I'm on season three by now . . . I'd totally be done by now if netflix had put it up in September when I was only working two days a week, but now that I'm back up to four . . . ), but can I just say I loved this scene the first time I saw it.  Michel is my hero.

I had quite the Michel day yesterday.  To the point where there were too may stories for one facebook status, but they're all too good not to share.  So much so that I'm putting off the treatise I've been writing in my head about the different flavors of touron for another day.  But once it is written, I will have a blog post full of examples for it - this one.

I was at the upgrade booth yesterday, which makes for a slightly greater variety of questions because you get the people coming off the train who haven't quite figured out that they're in a different park yet.  And the ones who know they're in a different park . . . but might not be quite sure about which park they're in now.

So there I am, minding my own business, doing my best to be friendly even though I'm super tired because it's the first time I've opened in, like, six weeks and it's way too early.  But I have my sunglasses on and I've relearned how to fake being all chipper, so it's all good.

Until a group gets off the train . . . and one of them asks me "hey, where's the gringo?"

Yeah, you read that right.

It took me approximately 7.5 seconds to realize they were asking how to find the Harry Potter and the Escape from Gringotts ride, but 12 seconds to find my voice again because let me tell you, that was one I hadn't heard before.  And since I was literally incapable of replying in those twelve seconds they asked a follow up question.  "You know, that green goat ride?"

Which, naturally, rendered me speechless for another 15 seconds, so I couldn't only point and stutter "left" a couple of times.

Luckily most tourons aren't exactly looking for eloquence in their theme park peons, so a two-fingered point is more than sufficient and 95% of the time they don't even notice the confused look on your face.

That would have been memorable enough (seriously, still trying to figure out how you get "green goat" out of "Gringotts") but an hour and a half later (almost exactly - yes, I looked) here comes another guy off the train - completely different guy - who yells at me, without even stopping "how do we get to the green goat?"

At this point my only regret was that the only pub I could send them to was The Leaky Cauldron . . . and it's in the same direction as Gringotts. But at least I knew what they were looking for as soon as they asked this time, you know?

(side note: I'm not quite sure what to make of all the people coming just to ride this one new ride because it's a new roller coaster - I can't help but think those people are getting off the ride very disappointed.  As a Harry Potter ride is really cool, but as a roller coaster . . . it's really not.  Cool, I mean.)

Anyway.  Story two.  A couple of hours later.  A couple of little old-ish ladies (as in older than my mother but probably not as old as my grandmother) come strolling slowly off the train - meaning they were just at Islands of Adventure, and I know they were at Islands of Adventure, but . . .

So they come strolling over to me, and are all sweet and smiley and kind and friendly.  And then they ask me, "so when we're done here, dear, will the train take us back to Disney too?"

Somehow they never realized they had asked an odd question - even though my jaw actually dropped and I (mostly) involuntarily cocked my head and it probably took me a full twenty seconds to be able to say "the train . . . doesn't . . . doesn't go to . . . Disney . . . "

Little old-ish ladies: Oh, so where does the train go to then?

Me: Islands . . . of Adventure?

Little old-ish ladies: So how did we get here then?

Me: I honestly don't know.

That last bit?  Absolutely true.  (suffice it to say, the little old-ish ladies fall into they type 2 category of touron, as shall be explained . . . sometime soon . . . ish . . . )

So after that the day went on for a little while with only the typically repetitive questions (where's the restroom?) and the typically stupid questions (why is it raining?  can you make it stop?) and it seemed like the day's weirdness had passed.  And then one more group got off the train around lunchtime.

Let me take a moment to make things clear.  I was at King's Cross Station yesterday.  King's Cross Station is at Universal Studios, which has Diagon Alley.  The other end of the train goes to Islands of Adventure, which is where Hogsmeade is.  And Hogwarts Castle.  That one thing you must remember, or nothing that follows will seem wondrous.(my apologies for skipping over Thanksgiving, but ten points if you gt the reference)

So they get off the train and this time the conversation goes like this:

Touron: Where is Hogsmeade?

Me: *slight pause* You just came from Hogsmeade, ma'am.

Touron: Oh, so Hogsmeade is just a train station?

Me: No, there's also a village. (side note: depending on which way they came from, they may have come upon the train station first and not noticed the village beyond that.  unobservant, but completely possible)

Touron: So where is the castle?

Me: The castle is back in Hogsmeade.

Touron: Okay, I get it now.  So Diagon Alley is over there (points in direction of Diagon Alley)?

Me: Yes.

Touron.  Okay.  So what's over there (points in direction of Diagon Alley)?

Me: *long pause* Diagon . . . Alley . . . I think . . . ?

Because clearly she was looking for a different answer to the same exact area, but I honestly couldn't begin to guess what.  My answer seemed to be satisfactory though.

But the day ended on a high note.  Toward the end of my shift I was chatting with a couple of people who came off the train raving about how awesome it was, which happens every now and again. (side note: LOVE the people who remember we're people too and not just theme park peons) It started with them saying how much they loved the train, and then went into how Universal has been really improving lately and how WWoHP is really on a level where it's almost better than Disney (another rather common sentiment we hear about from time to time)  so of course I asked which direction they preferred for the train, because the ride is different both ways, but it turns out they didn't know that.  So I explain that they can go right back on the other way to check it out, and that this way they'll get to walk through Platform 9 3/4, which they got really excited for, and then I made sure they knew that by the time they got back over to IoA they might have to walk back to USF for HHN because the train stopped running in that direction as soon as the park closed to day guests.  And they're completely okay with that because honestly it's not that far a walk and nobody should be complaining about having to walk because before this year that was their only option, and yet (not so) oddly enough being okay with it is not the reaction we have all gotten used to bracing ourselves for.  which, you know, does not say much for today's society in general.  But these guys were super friendly and super nice and we had a great little conversation (and did I mention it's so nice when people acknowledge that we exist instead of ignoring us unless it's yelling at us for not giving them whatever stupid self-centered thing they want?) so I gave them a few extra tips to make sure they didn't miss anything and in the end I got added to the list of super helpful and friendly team members they were keeping and when they get home they're going to send a letter with the list to Universal so, yay!  Turns out the day full of both regular craziness and extra special craziness paid off in the very end.

But I'm still very happy to have a three day weekend.


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Like there would be anything else here today.

Just Thoughts

~ We are T-minus 30 days until we get the heck outta Dodge.  There's so much to do . . . and yet it doesn't seem like all that much.

~ I swear end of the year testing will be the death of me.  Don't get me wrong, on the one hand I am literally getting paid to sit in silence watching a bunch of kids take tests on computers.  But on the other hand . . . I am spending the day in total silence while the kids are working on computers.  Soooooooooooooooooooooooo boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooring!!!!!!!!!  I will miss pretty much everything else, but I am SO glad that this is the last time I will be doing testing.

~ I officially do not get what the big deal is about 5 Guys.  Sure, it's a good burger but there's nothing special about it.  Certainly nothing special enough to warrant the cult following and being voted Best Thing On The Entire Planet by practically everyone.  Give me In'N'Out any day.  Or even Sonic.

~ English has got to be such a difficult language to learn.  Almost every person I've ever met for whom English was their second language has had a hard time saying my name - no matter what their first language is.  It would appear that ours is pretty much the only language in which the C and Z sounds are significantly distinct . . . which, of course, makes my name fundamentally different.  In fact, it took one particularly sweet little second grader from Africa (wish I knew where) about a month to figure out that my name was not, in fact, Miss Lazy.  At which point my name became Miss-Lazy-I-Mean-Miss-Lacey.  If it were a fourth grader doing it I would think they were being deliberately obnoxious, but he's so adorably delighted when he gets it right on the first try.  He's one of the ones I wish I could take with me.

~ Two parts trippy, one part amazing, two parts fueling the mental rant about people who make fun of selfies I've had going on in my head for a couple of months now. Also - I totally want those "reading" glasses.

~ Abbreviated rant: I've been taking selfies since I was in high school, and so has everyone else I was in symphony with because our symphony conductor took them all the time and we all thought he was awesome.  People who think teenage girls taking selfies is a sign of the end of times really need to get over themselves.  Seriously, have you seen those pictures of that bunch of dudes taking a selfie back in the 20s?  And if people - ESPECIALLY teenage girls - feeling confident in themselves and being willing to admit it to the world is a bad thing . . . I don't want to live on this planet anymore.

~ Snow cones last week, hot chocolate this week.  I'd be annoyed if that wasn't so utterly typical.

~ I am in the middle of the biggest reading slump in the history of my entire life - both in length and number of books.  I've read 38 books so far this year, and my average rating is a 2.6  (yeah, I actually did the math.  that's how frustrating it is)  whereas my normal rating for a year's worth of books is in the vicinity of 3.5 (yeah, I did a lot of math . . . which hopefully tells you how bad this slump is).  I have no idea what's going on, but most of the books I've been reading lately have just SUCKED.  It's not like I'm reading a pile of Twilight fanfiction either - I'm reading the same genres I've always liked, and there's been plenty of variety.  And still, they all suck.  Some are less sucky, and there have been a handful - seven, to be precise -  that I've truly enjoyed.  But holy crap, I've had four months of finishing book after book and putting them down and thinking what a waste of time it was and how I could have been rereading something good and just wishing I could enjoy reading new books again and I just have to wonder what the crap the problem is.  I'd ask for recommendations but at this point I'm not sure I'd appreciate them.  Blargh.


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We've totally adopted this as our theme song around here.  If you haven't seen this movie, drop what your doing and go see it.  But I don't think it's in any theaters anymore, so just go download it or something.  It's that awesome.

Lights, Tunnels

This will probably be a little cryptic to the handful of people still keeping up with the likes of us, but if everything keeps going the direction it is now . . . yeah.  Details will happen.

And I know you're not supposed to talk about money and stuff, but that's totally happening here so if you have a problem with that . . . well, you'll not be the first person to hit that unfollow button.

Anyway.  I got the call I'd been waiting for last night.  A week later than I expected it, and a week later than Sue had planned to make it.  Apparently to reach a cell phone number based in Cedar City when calling from a school in Logan dialing that 1 before the rest of the number is pretty essential.  But I have my job back, which is the important thing.  And it's as part-time as ever, which is the frustrating thing.  Because, hey, why hire ten good aides and have them work decent hours and want to stick around continuing to be good aides because it's a job they can get by with when you can hire twenty aides most of whom just need something to do?  Right Katie? (we've ranted on this together many a time)

The best news regarding my job is the possibility of an additional hour.  Apparently all the schools in Utah are giving all the kids free breakfast now or something?  Luke remembers seeing a story about it a little while back, but I missed it so I'm a little unclear on things.  All I know is that means there will be lots of kids on the playground early in the morning and they will need supervision and if I'm lucky that will be me . . . even though it will involve getting up and going and out of the house earlier than I've had to do in YEARS.  Oy.  Not gonna be pretty.  But that additional one hour will go a long way toward nearly doubling my paycheck - which mostly goes to show how few the hours that the power-that-be-even-though-they-don't-have-a-clue see fit to grant are.  If those who can't do teach (which I totally don't agree with, btw) then those who can't teach work in district offices.  Or in governmental positions that oversee education.

In other news, Luke's paycheck may be more than doubling in the semi-near future, which is pretty freaking awesome.  It's a slightly complicated, slightly convoluted story that's still playing out and that's where the details being unfolded later come in.  But for now if you have any voodoo charms, prayers, good vibes, etc. to spare we would not turn down a few to help ensure that this works out.  'Cause it's looking like the second half of this year is going to prove that some decisions/changes/achievements we made during the first half were totally the right ways to go.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have precisely eleven more days of sleeping in to do.  The morning of the 26th is going to be ugly.


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So I can hear all the ones I'm "supposed" to . . . and it's like my ears can remember being able to hear the others.  I swear I can feel them trying to hear the rest!

But the Living Ain't Easy

In other words, Summertime: What It's Like Trying to Get a Job in Logan


And it's about like this.

Four years.  Four gazillion applications.  Four interviews.  Half a job.  Half a job I love . . . but only half a job.

I am really coming to hate this town.



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I didn't particularly care for this song back in high school when we played it in symphony.  But it's grown on me in the decade (!) since then.

Shoppocrites

So who's been shopping in the last twelve hours?  Yeah, not me.

I've gone Black Friday shopping exactly once, and while it's not something I would do again, I did not have a terrible time.  I did find myself getting up at 5:00 in the morning when I didn't get home from work until after midnight . . . what can I say, people do crazy things when they're in crush.  (I myspace blogged all about it . . . I may have to post it sometime, it's one of the more amusing ones.)

Anyway.  My little excursion was back when Black Friday was just insane. not indecent.  Yeah, have you heard about that?  About the part where Black Friday starts Thursday morning now?  In a nutshell, I agree with everything everyone has been saying.  Greedy, thoughtless, inappropriate and really not fair to the minimum wage peons who have no choice but to skip Thanksgiving and show up in order to make sure there's still something to eat on Saturday.

But on the other hand . . . I don't really have a lot of patience for the people saying it's not right.  If the whole "biting my tongue" thing were literal I'm pretty sure I would have bitten it off by now because I've watched at least half a dozen conversations happen on facebook where friends posted a status about wanting to have a low key Thanksgiving and what should they do - and the answers poured in.  Go out to eat.  Go to a movie.  Go out and eat pizza or at Taco Bell or whatever and at the end, yay for you, no cooking and no big clean up job!

I'm sorry, where is the outrage for the people at the restaurant who don't get to spend Thanksgiving with their family because you're too lazy to cook?  What about the anger for the employees of the movie theater who have to leave their turkey early so you can go to your movie?  Why am I apprently the only one who thinks that's just as wrong?

It's just so amazing how good humanity is at dehumanizing people when we don't want to be considerate of others.  I mean, how's this for an actual thing to overhear - "I would never go out to eat on Thanksgiving.  Those poor people deserve to have the day off and be with their families too."

Said whilst the speaker was at Walt Disney World.  On Thanksgiving.  Where I was working.  On Thanksgiving.  Apparently her level of consideration went beyond retail workers to include waitresses and cooks . . . but I was still just a robot.  Because apparently any job that involves something you aren't doing on a holiday is a travesty, but if it involves the way you want to celebrate then forget your right to celebrate a holiday you minimum wage peon, get over here and get me my churro!

Not to mention it goes without saying that the fact that all these restaurants and theaters and stores are open is the whole reason why Luke has had to work almost every holiday for the last four years.  Where's the indignation about the fact that with all these places open the tech support places have to be open because heaven forbid something happens to those places internet or cable.

Obviously a line in the sand has been drawn, but I can't say that it's the right place in the sand, or even an effective place.  If people working at Walmart want to strike, all power to them.  But as long as there's a double standard where it's okay for some people not to get to spend Thanksgiving or Christmas or whatever at home the way they want to but not for others, I don't see anything changing.  Give it a few more years and stores will be open for normal hours all day on Thanksgiving.  And the only people who will have holidays off will be the people with the cushy corner office jobs, or the paper pushing cubicle drones who work at places that don't sell anything so it doesn't make a difference whether there open on any one particular day.

Because seriously, how hypocritical is that people will protest stores being open on Thanksgiving, but there's nothing wrong with people who work at hotels having to go to work?  Why is it okay that pilots and flight attendants spend the day taking others to be with their families, but not getting to be with their own?  I mean, obviously emergency personnel need to be on call just in case . . . but why do news anchors have to show up?  Either the holiday is for everyone or it's not.  And I'm thinking anymore they're just . . . not.



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So apparently this is what English sounds like to people who don't speak it.  It's nothing but gibberish, but your brain keeps trying to make sense of it - I keep hearing actual words . . . pizza, cold, ice, my eyes . . . it's kinda crazy awesome.

Not Ashamed

Nano update: so far so good, as of yesterday I was even a little ahead of where I needed to be.  But today there's a bit of writer's block going, and I'm pretty sure it's partially rant induced, so I'm getting it out.  (you know my motto - blogging is cheaper than therapy.  plus I'm not sure this quite qualifies as needing therapy.)  At the moment I haven't even decided if this post will ever even see the light of day . . .

Anyway.


I didn't vote yesterday.  I didn't vote early.  I didn't vote at all.

It's not because I don't care.  It's not that I didn't know who to vote for.  It's not even because I didn't want to.  (okay, it kind of is that last one.  a little.)

It's because there is absolutely nothing in the world more pointless than voting in Utah.

Nothing.

I know I'm far from the first person to rant about the electoral college and it's uselessness and the way it nullifies more than half the votes cast . . . but it really drives me nuts to think that such an archaic, deliberately biased system is still in place.

I mean, think about it.  In a rational world, a world where American politicians elected to offices higher than, oh, mayor-ish were capable of thinking of anything other than themselves it would work like this (metaphorically speaking): everyone would get a card.  Red or blue.  Or green or orange or pink because in this world those other cards would actually be relevant.  You pick the color you want and you send it to Washington DC and it's put in a stack with all the other cards of that color.  And in the end whoever has the tallest stack of cards wins.  152 red cards?  Awesome.  153 blue cards?  You lose, red.  Every vote counts, every single solitary card makes a difference because it contributes to the whole stack.

But instead we have this -

Every state gets a bucket of water.  Every person gets to put one drop of food coloring in the water, red or blue.  In the end, some buckets are deep crimson or sapphire.  Some buckets are decidedly fuchsia or plum shaded.  But there are only two trucks to load the buckets in, so a fuchsia bucket get put in the same truck as a crimson one, and a plum buckets goes with the sapphires.  49 blue drops and 51 red drops?  Is the exact equivalent as 100 red drops.

Seriously, how does anyone actually believe their individual vote matters?

I mean, sure, in some states you are going to have a very purple shade, and in that case your one drop might just make the difference between fuchsia and plum . . . but then there's Utah, and all the other states like it.  The states that get 99 red (or blue) drops.  And I'm supposed to believe that my one red drop will make the bucket any more crimson?  Or that my one blue drop will give it even the slightest hint of purple-ish-ness?  No.  It doesn't.  Even a toddler could see that.  So what's the point?

(this is the point where people with jump in with "but the local races!!!!!!!!" which in some places might strike me as a valid argument.  but here . . . I don't see my vote making any difference in those races either)

It's twenty-freaking-twelve.  How is this possible?  Four years ago I was blown away by all the presidential commercials I was seeing on tv.  I'd never seen one before.  I was twenty-four years old and I honestly hadn't even known they existed before that year.  I don't remember what I thought, you hear all the talk about having to give candidates equal airtime and regulations and whatever, and I guess I just figured commercials weren't allowed for presidential candidates because they got all the air time on the news and such.

And then this year.  Not in Florida anymore, something seemed off for the longest time and I couldn't place it until a couple of months ago.  The commercials were gone.  Not a single presidential commercial to be seen.  Anywhere.  Meanwhile, today is the first day in who knows how many months that people in Ohio have seen a commercial that wasn't political.  And I'm supposed to think this is okay?  I don't think so. 

And then there was watching the results come in last night.  Which I'd never done before, but Luke wanted to so we made pizza-and-a-movie night into pizza-and-the-news night.  Going in I did have a bit of a clue what was going on, in fact I'd heard on the radio yesterday morning that Ohio, Virginia, and Florida were the keys and if Romney didn't get at least one of them he didn't have a prayer.  So we're watching, and none of those three have come in and then all the sudden Ohio comes in and somehow it's all over and done with and I'm like "wait a second, he could still get one of the others" but no, apparently they didn't actually matter either.  I mean, they hadn't even finished counting . . . even in those states that just twelve hours ago had been so critical.  The votes in those states could literally not have been counted and it wouldn't have changed a thing - and they're supposed to be the ones who count the most!  (and let's just ignore the hypocrisy in the fact that a statement like that could even exist in a country that supposedly believes "all men are created equal.")

Of course, there's also the part where the polls weren't even closed in Alaska and Hawaii when the whole thing was declared officially over.  So, you know, go on home guys.  It's not like we need you or anything, you know?  We're not waiting until it's 5:00 in the morning in New York to find out who wins!

Someday, heaven willing, we want to live in a state where it's a matter of a fuchsia bucket versus a plum bucket, rather than crimson versus sapphire.  Then?  I will vote, and gladly.  Until then . . . I see no point.


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I decided to go ahead and hit that orange button . . . so here's a palate cleanser before you all tell me what a terrible person I am.  (fun fact: I have actually met a slightly disturbing number of people with these very names!)

This Isn't Halloween

So it's been a while since I've gotten in a good old ginormous soap box rant.  And now I'm in the mood for a minor one.

Have you seen this?  It's been several days and I'm still kind of speechless.  Talk about something to put in the "you've got to be kidding" and the "no way no how are we ever having kids in this crazy day and age" files!  I'm not even sure how to rant about this properly.

I mean, in what world could that dress ever be considered a Halloween costume?  Other than, you know, the current "yellow bikini + orange stilettos = Big Bird costume" world we're apparently living in.  (and the whole deal where the only costumes they sell for women cut and cut and cut out fabric to the point that you seriously can't even tell what they're supposed to be is a whole 'nother rant that I shall not get into this year)

Anyway.  That dress?  Is darling.  Some people might have issues with how much it does or doesn't cover, but I see no problem with letting a little girl wear it any day, or every day if she felt like it.  It's a very cute outfit and if she liked it, more power to her.

That dress?  Is not a Cookie Monster costume.  Except perhaps if you call it a Future-Slut-oween-Training-Costume.

The part that is most unbelievable is that the "boy's" costume is clearly the most unisex piece of clothing on the planet.  Seriously, what part of that ensemble screams "boy" to anyone?  Oh wait, I know - it's the part where you can't see the wearer's legs, shoulders, or stomach.

You know what?  I don't care if anyone my age chooses to wear a "sexy" costume . . . even if it is a sexy unidentified dead body costume. (again, the fact that such a costume adds at least a thousand levels of creepy and wrong to the objectification argument is something I'm not even going to touch)  If you, as an informed and autonomous adult choose to go that route for your costume, go for it.  All power to you.

But if you have a problem with adults choosing the skanky costumes - if you don't like the fact that those are almost the only choices available for girls over about the age of ten - perhaps the place to start is the toddler section.  Stuff that happens at that age sticks with you.  Even if it is something as subtle as boys costumes actually look like what they want to be but girls just wear a scrap of fabric in the right color.  Boys dress up for fun, girls dress up to be looked at.

No.  No, no, NO.

If no one buys them for their four-year-olds, fewer of them will be getting picked by 24-year-olds.  And when fewer 24-year-olds want the pirate bikini over the actual pirate costume . . . then things might start to change.



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There are so many great little moments in the holiday specials it's easy to forget about some of them.  Like this one.

The Cake . . . er, Town . . . is a Lie

Did you think you were done reading my Twi-rants?  Well . . . sort of.  Actually, I'm not entirely sure what today's rant is about - just that something needs to be ranted.

Have you heard of 50 Shades of Grey?  It *might* be the most terrible book ever written.  Seriously.  It is never-supposed-to-be-published-and-see-the-light-of-day bad.  And it wasn't - supposed to see the light of day, I mean.  Other than the deepest, darkest bowels of the internet.

For the lucky uninitiated, 50 Shades started out as Twilight fanfiction by someone who was bitter bout the lack of explicit sex scenes in the originals.  So they wrote all the varying levels of dirty things they wished Bella and Edward had in the first place and put it online.  And you know that episode of Friends where Joey writes a letter of recommendation to the adoption agency for Chandler and Monica?  In places it reads more or less like that.  I haven't read it myself, but I have been made aware of a website that posts small excerpts that demonstrate just how unreadable this thing is.  Where Twilight could have been vastly improved by a couple more rounds with an editor, its knock-off needed a complete tear-down-and-just-start-over treatment.  I would include quotes, but honestly the most unreadable bits are also the most not-appropriate-to-put-on-a-blog-my-grandparents-read.  Of course, they're also the most thesaurus-ed to death . . . some to the point that you can't even tell what's going on until you run it through a thesaurus yourself to translate it back into what it originally said.  And somehow it got so popular in those deep, dark internet bowels that the powers that really shouldn't be anymore decided it should be published.  As is.  So they ran it through a computer program that changed all instances of "Edward" and "Bella" to . . . I don't know, whatever the names are in the published version.  And then sent it directly off to the publisher.  And somehow it became the biggest thing among middle-aged women since . . . well, Twilight.

Which brings me to the source of my rant - which might actually be more of a "can someone make it stop being crazy????" sort of plea. 

As of a few days ago, 50 Shades of Grey was the most requested title at the library in this town.  The mind, she is boggled.  If you had asked me before I saw the list on the library website I would have been willing to bet big money that our library didn't even have a copy.  Much less four.  Much less that if I were to put it on hold today I would be looking at a three month wait to get it.  And then 3 more months a piece for each sequel.  Because oh yes, there's more of them.

The thing I can't wrap my head around though - who's reading it here?  It's widely known to be erotic vampire fiction with extreme BDSM content.  It even mentions the erotic part on the library website, which I guess I always figured was more or less a kiss of death for a book in Utah.  It's just not the sort of thing you envision sitting on everyone's coffee table around here . . . which, I suppose, is why everyone has it on hold at the library.  They all want to read it, but you can bet there won't be cheers and claps when the movie release is included in the important weekly events announcements in Relief Society (actually happened with Twilight in the single's ward in Florida).  It's hard to believe such a book could possibly be popular in a place like this, but I have to admit it's a little amusing to wonder which of these apparently perfectly content, perfectly put together, lovely ladies I see everywhere I go are secretly reading the most popular porn since the Kama Sutra (which, as I've been told, isn't actually porn, but I haven't read it. I've only eaten the ice cream, lol).  Like I said, I can't wrap my head around it - it's a such a contradictory thought!

I mean, I really can't blame them for getting sucked into a book or series - there are three book releases I'm currently counting down to - but I have to wonder why anyone would choose one so poorly written.  Maybe I'm just a book snob. (who are we kidding, I am a book snob.)  And I can't help but think of this.  2:29?  Sums it all up.  But that, like, doesn't happen in Utah.  You know?  It's not a lecture you hear repeated every six months at the girl broadcasts before conference, just the priesthood session.

In conclusion . . . I am not living in the town I thought I was.  And it's a little weird.


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Totally counting down to the Olympics next month.  Also - totally trying to pretend this wasn't almost 20 years ago.  Things I remember - quite clearly - are not allowed to have happened that long ago.

Looking for Something to Say

Ever have that feeling that you want to talk to someone but you just can't think of anything to say?  That pretty much explains my blog absence for the last little while, which a few people have mentioned/questioned.  Sorry, it's just been one great big "I've have nothing to add to that" moment around here.  I still love the kids at school (except for the days when I can't stand them), there's nothing monumental going on in our lives (unless you count Luke's schedule changing so he gets off at 10 instead of midnight, which we see as kind of a big deal), and I haven't had any particularly philosophical moments to ramble on about (a side effect of end-of-the-year burnout, I'm thinking).

So I suppose this post is mostly just to assure everyone that we're still alive . . . and also (just a little) to celebrate the wonderful feeling you get when you discover that lots of people agree with you on something when you thought you were the only one who felt that way.  Shockingly, I'm not in the mood to rant (I must be really burned out!) but maybe I will be by the time comments start rolling in, lol.

Anyway.  I shall just make my two little points and leave you all to duke it out.  Or unfollow me, as the case may be. (although I hope that doesn't happen!)

I totally agree with this, it's kind of really horrible and probably is going to do more harm than good in the long run.  And some people really need to get this kind of grip on reality and stop judging people they don't even know.

And this?  Unnecessary, disrespectful to the artist, and more than a little hypocritical.

Well . . . it'll be nice to see who still talks to me this time next week, lol.


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Title says it all.  The mind, she is boggled.

Not Making Waves

I've kind of really been wanting to post this as my facebook status for a little while now, but I have the feeling it would open a can of worms I'd rather not deal with at the moment. Especially if the reason my car wouldn't start today when I tried to leave work is not the starter . . . but that is a rant for another time . . . maybe.

So. Today's discussion:

If it was not also a dessert, the name "Cobbler" would be just as popular as the name "Cooper."

Because seriously, there are kids out there named "Barrel-maker." What is up with that? Sure, I'm not saying you have to go all Lo-ruhamah and Ruhamah or whatever. (and let's not go into how freaking hard it is to find something when you know what your looking for but don't remember the actual reference or even the vicinity of where to look . . . for the record these aren't even the names I was looking for!)

But seriously, can't you at least spare a thought for when the kid tries to look up his name someday? Imagine -

"My name means princess!"

"My name means a strong and mighty wind!"

"My name means lion-hearted!"

"My name means . . . maker of barrels . . . "

And my name means I got a rock.

Anyway, this was supposed to be a two-line post. So I shall stop and save up my rant juice for something really good.

But I mean it - yay or nay on all those hypothetical Cobblers? :-)


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So I'm not generally one for all the gazillion singing shows on tv lately but since it's been at least 3 seasons since Dancing with the Stars cast anyone I was interested in watching I needed something new to occupy my time on Monday nights. And this? Fills it nicely. Holy freaking ALL VOCAL. Check it out. Seriously.

Here I Go Again

Today I saw a fifth grader reading Twilight. A FIFTH GRADER. As in A TEN-YEAR-OLD. There is not enough profanity in the world to fill in the symbols in the "Are you @#$%^%&*^(&^%@!#@%^%&%@$!#$^%^%$&^#@$%^%$&^&%*&^$%ing kidding me?!?!?!?!?!" that has been going through my head all afternoon.

I know, I know, I've ranted about Twilight before. So for those of you who don't spend your spare time rereading my past blog posts, here's the recap:

1. The books themselves - story = not that bad, an original take on the vampire legend that could have made for an entertaining guilty pleasure if not for the fact that the writing = a level of horrendous I've only seen exceeded by a classmate who needed to reconsider her major back in college. (side note: this might be the most awesomest site in the history of the internet. so true, so perfect, and often so funny.)

2. Abusive male + submissive female = not okay in any relationship.

3. Humanity is clearly losing its grip on reality.

Okay, now on to my new rant's bullet points. Yay!!

(2) 1 ~ Who in their right mind lets a ten-year-old read a book that's meant for teenagers and (as I argued last time) still rather inappropriate for them? Either this child is reading her parent/guardian's copy or she got it out of a library. And either way, I am not the only adult who knows she's reading it. I refuse to believe she got it out of the school library, so it strikes me as logical to assume that some sort of parental figure is aware of this child's chosen reading material. (and yeah, let's be honest, I might be completely off here but I'ma go with it because it fits into my angry tirade and don't mess with me when I'm ranting, dangit!)

So this begs a few questions. Does this parental figure support the horrible "gender roles" illustrated in this series? Do they want their daughter to think being meek and submissive will win her the man of her dreams rather than an abusive psychopath? Do they want her to want a manipulative emotional abuser? Are they trying to teach her that she is only worth as much as a male thinks she is? There are not words to describe how many levels of wrong and awful this is!! It's bad enough that in this day and age there are still people who think that way, but at least the adults - and even the teens, to an extent - who pick up these books are (theoretically) able to see the glaringly obvious problems with the way Bella interacts with every single freaking male in her life . . . but this girl doesn't know what she's reading. All she sees is a super popular book that all the big girls read and she wants to look grown up, and now she's going to think that this is what she should spend her high school years seeking out. And granted, my high school expectations were horribly skewed too . . . but Saved by the Bell is ridiculously harmless comparatively speaking.

I'm on the fence about Harry Potter as appropriate for this age group - those last few book get rather, er, gritty, shall we say - but just based on this I'm all for them. (click on 'em to make them bigger and, you know, be able to read them.)




(2) 2 ~ These books are SO inappropriate for someone in FREAKING ELEMENTARY SCHOOL. I haven't heard this one yet, but the other day Aunt Sharon was telling me about mothers who say things like, "I haven't read Twilight, but I'm okay with my daughter reading them because she's Mormon."

Ummmmmmmmmmmmm . . . what? I'm sorry, but just because you can buy these books at Deseret Book doesn't mean they're appropriate for all ages, or even appropriate for anyone who shops there. In fact, as far as I'm concerned they may as well start carrying bodice rippers with Fabio on the cover because that's about the level of integrity they have in my eyes after carrying these books (and, actually, a couple of others that my mom thought would be okay because she bought them there only to be quite surprised when she read them. and then horrified that I'd read them because they were for me. but I digress). In fact, I'm pretty sure the publishing arm of the company wouldn't touch them with a thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole . . . and now I'm curious about just how many places the manuscript was submitted before it was accepted - and what those places were.

So Lacey, you may ask, just what is age-inappropriate in these books . . . other than, you know, everything?

Let's start with the graphic violence that's in all four books. Because it. Is. Graphic. And let's stop and take a moment to ponder why it is that generally Mormons are okay with graphic violence, but even a whisper of sex is enough to condemn a person to the deepest, darkest circle of Hades. Yeah, could someone please explain that one to me because I've seriously been wondering for years. A little bit of passionate kissing and a smidge of hands roaming bodies and everyone's all "grab your torch and pitchforks!!" But limbs hacked off and blood spurting everywhere? Bring it on.

(Note: yes, that is a gross generalization. But in my experience it is accurate - just exaggerated.)

Then, of course, there's the fact that Bella only agrees to marry Edward because Edward won't sleep with her otherwise. Say whatever you want about the books promoting abstinence - the fact is, Bella spends Eclipse mostly trying to get into Edward's pants. I suppose props ought to be given for that reversal of gender roles . . . but is that the picture of marriage we want to be sending to the rising generation? "We" referring to both humanity in general and Mormon mothers in particular. Maybe I'm over analyzing things (of course I would have to disagree with you there) but the message I'm seeing is something like "marry him if you have to girls, but don't bother buying the pig if you can get the sausage for free."

This could probably go under the graphic violence heading, but since it added flashing exclamation points to Lacey's List of Reasons Not to Get Pregnant, it gets a separate entry:

HOLY. TRAUMATIZING. BIRTH SCENE.

'Nuff said. For those not in the know, the demon mutant baby performs a c-section on Bella. FROM THE INSIDE. I know it's ridiculous, but talk about not making the thought of childbirth any more appealing. (ummmmmm . . . sorry Lora . . . Shari . . . Camille . . . happy thoughts!!!)

On that note there's the whole imprinting thing. Which I was more or less okay with until what's-his-butt imprinted on a toddler. And then Jacob goes an imprints on an infant only minutes old (or an unfertilized egg, depending on just how you look at it). People talk about how the whole series (let's not touch the saga aspect again, m'kay?) is about a girl choosing between beastiality and necrophilia . . . and it is, when you boil it down to the basics. So how does everyone forget that it's also totally promoting pedophilia? And I'm not saying there are levels to it or anything because the whole idea is heinous, but Twilight is pedophilia of the absolute worst sort. And don't give me that crap about him being like a brother until she grows up - that just makes it creepier because you KNOW he's just counting down the minutes until she's ready for him to be a boyfriend instead of a brother.


Soooooooo . . . yeah. It's been two hours. I'm running out of steam. (but don't think I'm not still shocked and appalled, because I totally am.) Anyway, my point is that somebody is REALLY dropping the ball for this poor little girl and I just wish I was in a position where I could pick it up. Oh, how I hope this doesn't screw her up later on in life.


One more picture, because it's true. And funny. Because it's true.





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Speaking of cats that explain why the Puritans thought all felines were possessed by the devil . . . not that anyone has been for a week now . . . especially since the nightmares have stopped. (KIDDING!!! I promise, there was only the one!) Anyway, how about a little creepy to start getting in the mood for Halloween next month.

Strike 2

Dear Ice Cream Van:

Have you looked outside recently? We are most certainly not Walking in a Winter Wonderland right now. And I'd really rather not be for a few more months.

And while I really do appreciate your wishes regarding my Christmas experience, need I remind you (again) that similar wishes for the New Year could not be any less timely and approriate than they are right now?

Consider this your official warning. If I have to write again, I may just have to make it a break up letter.

Cordially,
Lacey


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How about you try something like these on for size?

4

Day 4 ~ A habit you wish you didn't have.

I should be more ashamed to admit to this, but I can be really judgmental of people who don't know things I think they should know.

I know it's wrong, I know I shouldn't do it, I know it's not very Christlike or positive or good-karma-inducing or whatever . . . but in my defense I also know that I'm right. Generally speaking, people should know these things.

For example - remember Miss South Carolina? Yes, let us all take a moment to revel in her pitiable nervous ineptness. But what kind of gets to me is that because of her answer, the question has gotten lost - 1/5 of Americans can't locate the US on a map. ONE-FIFTH. TWENTY PERCENT!! That's insane!!

I'm sure a lot of people will chalk this up to failing schools and crappy teachers and all the same complaints that I first heard from my parents' lips (not to me of course, but they had quite the tendency to talk as if we were deaf when we were kids) clear back when I was a kid. And while heaven knows the public education system has its issues, I'm am not laying this one on the schools. You can't find Uzbekistan on a map? That's okay, I can't either - and I'll bet most people can't . . . unless they live in Uzbekistan. You can't find Greece on a map? Okay, that might be to do sub-par geography education. You, an America, cannot find the United States of America on a map? I'm sorry, either you are legitimately mentally handicapped . . . or you are a freaking moron.

Another example - I get really judgmental when it comes to Mormons not knowing things they should. Case in point: at this point I'm beginning to believe that my family are the only ones who know the Kirtland, Ohio, is pronounced KirTland, not KirKland.

Absolutely. Drives. Me. Nuts.

I have a cousin in the MTC right now, her mission includes Kirtland and her farewell was two weeks ago tomorrow. There was some extra time at the end of the meeting and some stake dude or other got up to fill it. And talked about the time he and his wife had spent in Kirtland years. Only it was Kirkland this and Kirkland that, and I swear if he had said the name of that town one more time I would have jumped up, right there in the chapel, and screamed "IT'S PRONOUNCED KIRTLAND, YOU MORON!!!!!!!!!!"

Okay. I probably wouldn't have done that. But - eyes closed, fists clenched, teeth grinding. I seriously did want to scream. I mean, in what world - in what language?!?! - is the letter T pronounced like a K? What the crap is up with that?!?!?! Why, why, why is it so ridiculously prevalent?!!?!?!?!! Why are so many Mormons generally intelligent but somehow incapable of pronouncing this one word correctly? (and I'm not sure whether this is a good thing or not . . . but this is not a Utah phenomenon. I've run into it everywhere. grrrrr.) I'd bet you anything that if you show ANYONE else the name written down that they would have no problem saying it.

There is seriously nothing that can make me lose pretty much any and all respect for a person faster than hearing someone utter the word Kirkland.

I really shouldn't do that though. Not a very good thing, you know? But I think it's hereditary . . . on the drive back home from Twin Falls, mom was the one who brought it up for us all to rant about. And we all felt the same way. Bad hereditary habit! Bad!

Also: yes, I did pick this habit just to rant about the Kirkland guy. It's been bugging me for the last two weeks.

Alternate: I still bite my nails sometimes.


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Counterbalancing the horrible person that I am with probably the best mother cat ever. Holy breaking-glass-adorable!

Less Intense, Perhaps More Bitter

So we've been all moved and stuff for about a week now, and while we're still kind of settling in, it's really nice to be out of the old place. Quite a relief.

Remember this? Of course you don't. But that's okay. I'd've forgotten it myself by now if it hadn't been a constant thorn in our sides since then.

The crazy thing is that somehow all the anger and frustration that I've been forced to bottle up for the past (almost) year has somehow dissipated. I really have no idea what happened . . . for months now I've been looking forward to the moment I could finally let go and rant on and on and on and have everyone tell me what a tragic little martyr I've been - or what a whiny little brat, as the case may be - but now that I can, the need for the catharsis is gone. Heaven knows I'm not complaining, but I am a bit confused.

Anyway, while the anger is gone there is still a fair amount of bitterness and resentment, so I'm hoping that one big, albeit milder than planned, purging will get rid of what remains. Feel free to tell me what a martyr/and/or/brat I am anyway. :-)

Anyway. As some of you know, the biggest reason we moved is because we couldn't stand the management at the old place anymore. Everything I said in the other blog? Completely true. 100% We had to get out.

What with hindsight and all that, I'm kicking myself just a little bit, because it was obvious within days of our taking over maintenance duties that it had been a bad idea. First there was the griping from the manager to me about the previous couple and things they'd done she didn't like while we were checking people in and out of apartments. It struck me as odd, but I just figured that sometimes people need to vent. Then there was the fire - and this seriously bugged me that night, and has ever since. When I called her to tell her about the fire the first thing she said - perfectly calmly - was to call the fire department. By then the first two fire departments were there . . . I really don't know how she didn't hear the sirens. When I told her they were there though, her tone completely changed. Short, a little snippy even. "Well. I guess I'll be there as soon as I can, then." It confused me a little at the time - I couldn't figure out why the conversation had gone that way. Did she think we were stupid, that calling 911 wouldn't occur to anyone in the entire complex? Or did she honestly think I'd called to get permission to call 911 . . . that we should have gotten permission first? Looking back that's what I find myself believing. We usurped her authority - it's ridiculously petty, but I can't think of any other reason for such an immediate change in tone.

Then the next day both the manager and the owner of the building chose not to cancel their (independent) plans to go out of town. Frankly, I still find this pretty unforgivable. They were both there the night before, they both knew that there would be lots of people around Saturday morning investigating and officials wanting to talk to people in charge and questions to be answered. But they still chose not only to leave the county, but to not answer their phones. Which left Luke and me having to pretend to be in charge. It wasn't too terrible, especially since Luke had been the first person on the scene and everything, but it still struck us both as irresponsible at the very least. Especially when the manager's phone must have been ringing off the hook all day . . . I think at one point there were five of us taking turns calling her. As soon as one person got her voice mail another person would start calling - and still, no answer until late afternoon. The building you're in charge of managing was on fire 12 hours ago and you go off to Salt Lake for the day and let your phone ring? I'm sorry, what?

That pretty much set the tone for our entire tenure as maintenance people - whenever we needed to reach her, she wasn't reachable . . . but we were expected to be on call constantly. A couple of months ago she called me to ask if I'd received an email she'd sent yet. I hadn't, so I asked when she'd sent it - ten minutes ago. The matter in the email wasn't urgent, and she asked us to call when we got it, but apparently we were supposed be checking our email every couple of minutes.

It was actually our inability to reach her when we needed her that was the last straw. My first blog came after the "mailbox debacle." The apartments had mailboxes that I'm pretty sure were the originals . . . and it showed. They were banged up, dented, and just in generally terrible shape. There were a couple of boxes that wouldn't close at all because of the damage. Every time someone would complain about not being able to lock their mailbox the manager would send us an email asking Luke to try and fix it, which he couldn't, as he told her every time. Finally the owner agreed to pony up the money for new boxes, and due to the constant problem of door keys and mail keys walking off (due to a non-existent key collecting system) they thankfully took our suggestion to have only one key per apartment. So the new boxes were installed, but they didn't have the main locks from the post office yet, those would be coming in a couple of days because it was Friday and the post office didn't have the locks ready. So it was arranged that we would keep using the old boxes until the post office locks were put in, then we would give out the keys to the new ones, and then the old ones would be removed.

That was what was supposed to happen. What really happened though . . . the next day (Friday) I came home from work and saw that the old boxes were gone. We weren't supposed to start using the new boxes until Tuesday, so I was rather confused - as was the mailman, who spent about an hour in the parking lot on the phone because, as it turned out, the locks weren't in the new boxes yet. And I think it might have been slightly illegal to put mail in boxes that weren't secure. But eventually he put the mail in there, having no choice, and people started wanting their mail. We weren't sure what to do, so I spent about 4 hours trying to call the manager. Not only did she not answer the office phone, she also wouldn't answer the emergency number . . . which kind of begs the question of why would you have a separate number for emergencies if you're not going to answer it. Eventually we had to take matters into our own hands and guess at what she would say, so we gave the keys out and I emailed her explaining the situation and how we'd tried and failed to reach her. The reply was a lecture about not doing things without permission and that if something like that happened again to call her. It went back and forth for a while, me explaining that I tried to call her but never got an answer (or even a return call . . . I'm not even sure she listened to the voice mails I left) and that we'd had to make a guess about what to do. To which she replied, essentially, "next time, call me."

I nearly replied with "I DID CALL YOU, BUT YOU NEVER ANSWER YOUR PHONE!"

The kicker? The person who removed the boxes was her husband. I'm all for nepotism, seeing as it's the only reason I have a job and all, but this place was Nepotism Nirvana. I think we were the only people she had doing anything around the apartments who were not related to her. Anyway, I don't know if she told him to take the boxes down or he just decided to do it without knowing we still needed them, but the plain fact is that he screwed up, she went missing (again), and we ended up paying for it.

By this point Luke and I were both seething. It was the proverbial straw on the back of a camel that had six months' worth of minor annoyances piled high. That's when we decided we were moving . . . except our lease wasn't up until May. Luke was almost ready to break it and just leave, but in the end we decided to suck it up and take what discounted rent we could get for six more months and save up for what would probably be a more expensive place. (and don't get me wrong, we both really appreciated the whole rent-reduction thing . . . the working conditions just sucked.)

There were a million other little things that happened that I'd planned on complaining about.

Like the time in January that the girl in the apartment next to the laundry room came and told us her bathroom was inexplicably flooding. Turned out it was a pipe in a water heater closet in the laundry room. Just 3 inches of pipe coming out of the wall, attached to nothing as far as we could see and merrily gushing forth water. The manager actually answered that time, which surprised me to speechlessness and she almost hung up. I explained the situation, and how we couldn't turn it off because there was no shut-off valve. She made some calls, then called me back saying her brother was one his way and that "he'll be able to shut it off." Oh, to have seen the look on her face when he told her there was no shut-off valve. Turns out it was on overflow pipe from an upper water heater that was malfunctioning.

Or the time in August that we had a knock on our door at 10:15 PM wanting to check in to his apartment. Didn't know which one he was going in to, didn't know if he'd signed all the paper work needed for us to be allowed to give him the keys had he known which apartment. Turns out he knew he would be getting into town late that night and got permission from the manager to come to us that late because she figured "when my husband and I were newlyweds we were always up late so I figured you would be too." Okay, ummmm . . .

1) I was taught that common courtesy says you don't knock on doors that late unless it's an emergency. Is that rule now as outdated as rotary phones or something?

2) You knew he would be coming to our door and didn't think it necessary to tell us? What if we hadn't been there?

3) I don't know what you and your husband were doing on those late nights, but if we're up that late there are about half a dozen things we might be doing and we don't appreciate any of them being interrupted.

Then there's the fact that if you go on maternity leave, and you leave five people in charge of covering one aspect of your job while you're gone . . . well, if those five people working together can't figure out how your system works, the problem is probably not them. And it's your own fault that you get calls every single day you're gone.

I have dozens of other stories of frustrations and grievances . . . but these are the only ones that still bug me, and the annoyance is even fading for them. It's odd, but I'm glad. And, I will admit, a little disappointed - you know how I love my rants! :-) But anyway . . . I've got the little bit of anger that's left off my chest, and now I think I can eventually forget about it. That's good, right?


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Of course there is no way in Hades this would ever happen . . . but it would be awesome. And if it does, you'll wake up to a full report Friday morning. Yes, I am getting up 4:00 in the morning . . . I'm probably going to regret it, but I'm going to do it!

I *Don't* Want to Believe

I've been doing this a lot lately.




So an old friend of mine posted this on facebook last week:

1/3 of high school grads never read another book for the rest of their lives.

46 percent of college grads never read another book after college.

80 percent of US families did not buy or read a book last year.

70 percent of US adults did not visit a bookstore in the last five years.

57 percent of new books are not read to completion.

I'm a little bit horrified. (and for those of you who pay any attention to my own facebook page, yes, I've been horrified by a lot of things recently.) I want, with every fiber of my cliche . . . I mean being . . . to convince myself that it's not true. And there's a part of me that keeps trying because I have no other source for these statistics - just my knowledge that the person who posted it is not the type of person to make these sorts of stats up just to do it. And knowing enough other people who back them up.

Even if I had not somehow found myself working in the education system I would be horrified by this. Honestly, I can barely fathom the idea. I mean, to put this in more concrete terms, it means that more than half of people my age have not read a book in 5 years or more.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Okay, this may come as a bit of a shock, but I'm kind of a big reader. Yeah, I know, I'll give you a moment to recover. I honestly cannot remember a time when I didn't know how to read. One of mom's favorite stories to tell while I was growing up was how, the Christmas I was in kindergarten my parents got a small Dickens anthology, and I wanted to read A Christmas Carol. So I did. In an hour. The original Dickens version, in all its Dickens-ish glory. And she didn't believe I'd really read it, so she quizzed me on it. And I knew the details that got left out of Mickey's version.

Now, something people may not know if they stick to Mickey's and the Muppets' versions is that A Christmas Carol is a novella. Pretty short. Even today I could probably knock it out in an hour or so of uninterrupted time. But still . . . a five year old reading Dickens. Probably explains why the unabridged Les Miserables ranks so high on my favorite books list. And why so many classics are on the list.

To say my life has revolved around reading . . . well, probably kind of understates the case. I seriously have to have something to read all the time, even if I can only get in a few minutes a day - which is really all I had time for in Florida. I've found myself reading the manuals that come with kitchen appliances before just out of the need to read something. Anything!

So I'm tolerably certain that there is no way for me to understand where these non-reading people are coming from. I've known a few before, and it's definitely influenced my relationships with them. I had a roommate in Florida who hated reading. (I think I died a little inside just thinking about putting those two words in the same sentence!) Absolutely refused to do it. She was a real fan of Harry Potter . . . the movies, naturally. Even the HP books couldn't convince her to pick one up. Again - unfathomable!! Anyway, the seventh book came out while we were both still there, and I'm pretty sure she was the only one in the shuttles break room who wasn't a reader. In the last few weeks before the book came out we would constantly be speculating about what was going to happen, and always pulling out references from past books to support our theories. Except for when my friend was there. More often than not we'd end up explaining things to her because she was confused because we'd mentioned something that got cut out of the movies. (like WHO THE FREAKING MARAUDERS WERE AND WHY THEY'RE KIND OF ESSENTIAL TO THE STORY!!!!!! . . . . . . . . . sorry. I'm still very bitter about the epic screw-up that is the third movie . . . . . . . . . )

Anyway. The book came out. I went with a few friends to a midnight release party. Thankfully I had the day off, and by 10:00 the next morning I'd read it. Twice. But not everyone was as much of a junkie (or as insane) or as fast as I, so there were some very strict no-spoiling rules put in place in the break room until everyone who was reading it finished. It struck me as a little silly, since my non-reading friend had spent the last month constantly bemoaning the fact that we'd just spoiled something for her. We - well, I - kept telling her that it didn't count as spoiling anything, since if she really wanted to know she could just read the books that had been out for years already. Not only did she refuse, she never could give a good reason. Nothing beyond the fact that she just didn't want to.

I'm sorry, what? You're as excited as any of the rest of us to find out what happens to Harry and, unlike the rest of us, you've got three years at Hogwarts you could lose yourself in and you "don't want to?!?!" What?

I hate to admit it, but that had a pretty big effect on our relationship, and not for the better. And as far as I know, she still doesn't know how it all ends. Which I find just sad.

The whole thing is really quite disturbing too. I mean, we're talking well over half the population that never reads. This is not right!!! Forget about these people being the future leaders of the country - these people are probably the leaders right now! (actually . . . that kind of explains what I heard today about some genius politician in the state senate that thinks kids should be taught to read by a computer. Seriously, are we raising kids or robots?) They talk about their kids' minds turning to mush as they do nothing but watch TV and play video games - but that's apparently how they spend their free time too! How hypocritical can you get?!?! I feel like I should double my book reading goal for the year just to make up for the rest of humanity. (it's over there >>>>>>>
up . . . up . . . there!) I was thinking 100 sounded ambitious, then I discovered I read exactly 100 books last year, so I made it 150. How many people do you think I'll be making up for if I pull off 300 books in a year?

I'm so shocked, horrified, and quite frankly offended, that I haven't even been able to get into a really good angry rant mode . . . and as we all know, I can do a good rant when I get going. I'm tempted to start making daily visits to a bookstore to make up for all the morons out there who haven't darkened the door of one for years. Seriously - years?!?! I make at least one trip a month, even if I don't buy something every time.

I fear for the future of humanity. I've said it often, usually semi-jokingly.

I mean it a lot more now.

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I feel like I should feel guilty for posting a video after getting all up on my soapbox and all, but it's not like I have anything against TV or video games in addition to reading. Also: I haven't stopped laughing at the bit at the three-and-a-half minute mark . . . and I first watched it a few days ago. The rest is mildly entertaining, but those ten seconds are quite funny.

Starting the Blog Year Off Right

"Right" of course being a relative term. Or sarcastic. Take it however you want.

Anyway.

So last Friday there was a short bit of training for the benchmark testing that we're doing tomorrow. It was a little confusing because I'd never done the testing before, but nothing too hard. For me, anyway.

Apparently this is the first year that this testing has been done on the computer - a little surprising, I would have expected things to have been changed over ages ago, but whatever. Again, no big deal. There was a training video that couldn't have been more than three minutes long that explained everything in the absolute lowest terms possible. Totally self-explanatory. A toddler could understand these instructions.

Great. Merciful. Crap.

I about died listening to the questions everyone else was asking. I mean, really, "how do you scroll?"?!?!?!?!?! Are you kidding me?!?!?!?!

Okay, disclaimer: although it may seem otherwise, I do not go around looking for things to be critical of in other people. Is it my fault that some things are so obvious?

Also, I realize I have a bit of a skewed perspective here. My family has had a computer at home since I was a toddler, which was not the norm for even my generation. My whole family (and I'm including extended family) is ridiculously technologically savvy. So I probably hold people to a higher standard than is average. Actually, scratch that. I know I do. We all do. We expect people to be reasonably informed and moderately capable with the technology they are expected to use on a daily basis. But really, is that so much to ask - it's not like I expect everyone to know how to write their own website . . . just how to open a browser and navigate a website! Particularly when you're being told exactly what to click on every step of the way.

Also (again) - I am by far the youngest aide, probably by seven years or more. So . . . yeah. Skewed standard.

Whatever. As I was attempting to recover from my shock at the aforementioned scrolling question the aside was made to me by the only person in that room who will ever read this blog (but who shall remain otherwise unnamed) that at the "real" training at the beginning of the year - this was a refresher course for everyone but me - that one would think these ladies were being asked to perform open heart surgery judging by the horror and drama learning to push a button entailed.

I'm both quite upset and ridiculously glad I missed that training meeting.

So here is my point/rant: Old (relative term!) people are supposed to have a hard time "getting" technology. It's "supposed" to go over their head, or something. Well, guess what? Three of my grandparents are ON FREAKING FACEBOOK! The one who isn't - has a BLOG! Clearly, you can teach an old dog new tricks, assuming the old dog is willing to learn. It's not like they need to be online . . . for, you know, their job or something. So what is up with the people who refuse to learn out of - I can only believe - sheer stubbornness and resistance to change? (side note - I am, of course, making exception for people who don't have the mental capability to learn new technology . . . hopefully that went without saying . . . ) Do some people just want to look helpless/incompetent/unintelligent?

I get the whole not liking change thing . . . to say I'm not a fan of it myself is to GREATLY understate the case. But when you're told that things are changing and there's nothing you can do about it - what's the point in resisting? In throwing a fit about it? If the realities of your job means you have to learn how to use new technology and you have that much of a problem with it, well, you know, there's always Walmart greeting - the quintessentially stereotypical "old person" job. My great-grandma did an awesome job at it (even if she didn't recognize me that one time, lol). And I imagine any technophobe would, since it involves actual human interaction in that elusive mythical state of existence known around the interwebs as RL. (But I bet Grandma Anna would totally be on facebook if she were still here!)

Anyway . . . yeah. I don't get it. But my rage/confusions - ragfusion? - has cooled significantly since last week. This probably would have been a much more interesting blog had I been able to write it a couple of days ago as I'd planned, but a series of obnoxious events prevented it. (Among them Luke being sick - not strep OR mono, and we're MAJORLY glad for that . . . and that he's finally better today, yay, and practicing for a musical number for church next week . . . to which I hope no one wants an invitation because I'd kind of rather pretend it isn't happening. Anyway . . . ) So, ummmm, anyway -

Old people: Not as incompetent as they'd like you to think they are.

(Okay, one parting question I have to ask - how can one brag about regularly skyping with one's grandson who lives cross-country if one does not know what a scroll button is? Perhaps Skype doesn't have scroll buttons . . . I wouldn't know, I've never used it. But still . . . how do I scroll? I may never get over that one.)

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I will never look at Darth Vader the same way again. It's a good thing George Lucas got this right!

I Work for the Department of the Redundancy Department

. . . I have no clever commentary for this one. None.





I've had a few theoretical blog posts floating around in my head. As I was formulating them they all struck me as a little too familiar, and since they were all variations on a Christmas Theme, I decided to hop in to my flashback machine, and lo and behold I've hit them all before. Blargh. Talk about there being no such thing as original thought left in the world!

Suffice it to say I stand behind everything I said last year, with a couple of small addendums:

1) To those who are celebrating winning the "war" on Christmas - if you are referring to trees for sale being referred to as "Christmas trees" as opposed to "holiday trees" which was rather silly, great. I don't really see what the difference is, but I'm glad you're glad. If you are celebrating that your favorite store no longer carries menorahs, however . . . how I wish I could subject you to the vengeful wrath of Apophis.

Also - this is quite probably the UGLIEST thing I have ever scene. And there are no words for how disturbing I find it.

2) Only two Christmas cards this year, and I'm such a hypocrite for being a little disappointed by that. Especially since I've been mocking The Christmas Letter for years. This one, however is the most awesome (and accurate) one I've ever come across. (Also - a new homestarrunner.com toon?!?! Talk about a Decemberween MIRACLE!!! YAY!!!!)


Anyway, all y'all know pretty much everything we've been up to this year, and if you don't there's a really easy way to get caught up. But if that's too much work for you . . .

*ahem*

On the 12th day of Christmas my true love gave to me

12 months of blogging

11 months and three weeks of no problems with my car (and counting!)

10 paychecks with my name on them :-)

9 local restaurants tried out (to varying degrees of satisfaction)

8 no longer the first number of my student loan balance

7 seasons of Stargate SG1 watched

6 books won online

5 months of no rent!

4 awesome Wii games

3 out of town guests

2 years being married (almost)

and a . . . partridge in a pear tree, I guess. I think my creativity has run dry for tonight. I thought about "and a little one on the way . . . NOT!" but I don't think my mother could have handled the crushing disappointment had she heard about it. Perhaps next year. Or the next . . .

Anyway, happy holidays, season's greeting, Merry Christmas, and all that jazz. And could someone please adjust the dosage of Mother Nature's bi-polar meds, because seriously, this snow-one-day-rain-the-next thing? Soooo not cool.

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So this is as un-Christmas-y as it gets . . . but also pretty much as funny as it gets . . .

A Christmasy Moment

I am SO doing this as soon as there's enough snow on top of my car again!



Let's get one thing straight right now - I love Christmas music. Absolutely adore it. Have it playing pretty much 24/7 from the day after Thanksgiving until Christmas. Can't get enough. It. Is. Awesome. The list of Christmas songs I don't like is very, very short.

There is an even shorter list. The List of Christmas Songs I Absolutely Cannot Stand. Consists of about three or four songs. And topping that list is the Christmas shoes song. Oh, how I loathe it.

I'm not saying I'm not a sentimental person . . . heck, I cried a bit at the end of Toy Story 3 for crying out loud! And I will occasionally tear up at a Christmas song. When something is good and then it tugs at your heartstrings, that's pretty awesome. When something is written deliberately to attempt to wring tears out of you - well, that's obnoxious to no end. And I can't stand it. Seriously, the thing sounds like it was written for a sappy holiday shoe commercial. In fact, I'm surprised Payless hasn't used it in an ad campaign. As a well known miser once said, if I could work my will every idiot who goes about with "Christmas Shoes" on his lips should be boiled in his own pudding and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. Unless, of course, you like it. Then let's just agree to pretend it doesn't exist and never let it come up in conversation. (random side note: totally didn't have to look up that quote, and it is exactly word for word. Check it, I dare you! A Christmas Carol ranks high on my list of all-time favorite Christmas obsessions.)

Anyway. Contrary to what that little rant would indicate, I am not that heartless. And while I am also not generally one to get all gushy and mushy on my blog (as you may have noticed), I can't help telling a super sweet story about Luke.

So last week on Luke's day off we ended up at the mall, as we often do. And they have an angel tree up, conveniently enough close to Luke's favorite store. Somehow (and I have yet to figure out how) Luke had never seen one before, and was quite intrigued. I think we spent a half hour - maybe more - walking around the tree while he read every last child's request. I asked him if he wanted to get one, because I love pulling off one or two every year. He was on the fence about it until he came to the tag for a ten-year-old boy who asked for legos. At which point I seriously watched him completely melt. Luke was quite the legos man himself back in the day, and it just broke his heart to think of some little boy not having legos under his tree Christmas morning. So we took that one.

And the next day we spent half an hour in Walmart looking for size 7 shoes. They had plenty in every size but that one, of which they only had, like, three. Obnoxious! But that was nothing compared to the time we had trying to get the right legos. See, on the tag whoever typed everything up had written "Lego's Toy Guns." Raise your hand if the picture that brings to mind is a toy gun made out of legos. Yeah, us too. So we're thinking, cool legos makes guns now? Bigger than the tiny ones that little lego Indiana Jones carries? Interesting. We went right into Toys R Us after taking the tag to get one.

Nothing. So we went home and googled it.

Nothing. Not even on the Legos web site. Which was really confusing. And we spent a lot of time scratching our heads and wondering where to find this really cool toy, and Luke spent a large chunk of time on hold with Legos customer service trying to figure things out, but never got through to a person. So we figure the kid had to have seen this somewhere in order to ask for it, so we'll just hit up every store in town until we find it. And then, walking through a parking lot, Luke figures it out. Wait a minute . . . the name "Legos" doesn't have an apostrophe in it . . . it's supposed to say "Legos, Toy Guns!!!"

(thi's would be the point that we both went off on a bit of a rant for a few minute's. I mean, really, what i's with people today and the way it seem's they think any word with an 's' on the end need's an apostrophe? How freaking dumb doe's thi's look?!?!?! IT'S NOT THAT FREAKING HARD PEOPLE!!!!!!! The ELEMENTARY SCHOOL kid's I work with get it, why dont you?!?!?! GOOD FREAKING GRIEF, IT'S A'S SIMPLE A'S GRAMMAR GET'S AND YOU LOOK LIKE A MORON WHEN YOU GET IT WRONG!!!!! LEARN IT!!!!!!!)

*large exhale* I feel better now.

Anyway, after finally finding the size 7 shoes that our anonymous boy needs, we headed to the toy section, grabbed a small Nerf gun and then proceeded to spend at least 45 minutes looking at legos while Luke agonized over what to pick. All the while talking about how when he was this kid's age he was all about the pirate legos. But now there are Star Wars legos and Toy Story legos and these branded legos and those branded legos and everything is a kit that makes something specific and you can't just buy a tub of random legos and build whatever you want (and seriously, how lame is that?), and Luke's going on and on about how important a decision this is and how he wants to pick something this boy will be excited to get, but it's so hard since we don't know what he likes, but legos are a big deal and you have to get it right. And he's going back and forth debating the merits of the helicopter versus the fire truck versus the SW snow speeder, and this would be the point where I completely melted. Like I said, I'm not one to gush, but I married a really sweet, really awesome guy. And should the day come that we have kids, he will be an absolutely fabulous dad. At least one of us will be good at it. *insert half smile here*

Anyway, that's all. I act Scrooge-y, but if I am of that ilk, I answer to Fred Scrooge. Next year we might have to take two. I was at a restaurant a few days later and they had an angel tree . . . and I nearly took a couple more home. I always worry about the ones who don't get picked - how sad is that? Get out there people, and give some sweet little kids a Christmas!!

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Some of my favorite Christmas musical numbers. :-)
BTW, Happy Hannukah Eric and Ian!