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Procrastination by parasite

Procrastination takes many forms. With me, it takes the form of a dive into the information vortex.

Specifically, a vortex swirling with images of bed bug-infested mattresses, STD outbreaks, Meth Mouth and bad plastic surgery.

This week’s topic is (drumroll, please) Awful Parasites. (Yes, I do love the show “Monsters Inside Me.”) Here are my favorite horrible kinds:

  • Human Bot Fly, native to South America and parts of North America
  • The Filarial Worm, which completes its entire lifecycle inside its human host
  • Candiru, the “toothpick fish” attracted to urea. Guess where you find urea? Bad news for the fellas. The following image shows one just removed from a poor guy’s (ahem) parts.
  • The Guinea Worm, contracted by drinking contaminated water in South Asia and Africa
  • Cymothoa exigua, or the tongue-eating louse, which, unlike the above, is not a human parasite. This creature attacks fish by going in through the gills, attaching to the tongue, and extracting the blood so that the tongue atrophies. Then the parasite acts as the fish’s tongue. Shudder.

Now I feel all gross and itchy, but I’ve succeeded in wasting plenty of time. Enjoy!

Words of wisdom

Entertainment Weekly has a breakdown of Katie Couric’s book, “The Best Advice I Ever Got: Lessons from Extraordinary Lives.” Some lives are clearly more extraordinary than others. Let’s compare Joyce Carol Oates and Madeleine Albright with Ryan Seacrest. (On second thought, let’s not.)

Here are some select bits of advice:

Never follow anyone else’s path, unless you’re in the woods and you’re lost and you see a path; then, by all means, you should follow that path. — Ellen Degeneres

Yeah. Um. Whose path am I going to follow? What other person has degrees in English, geosciences, performing arts and journalism? I think I’m on my own here. If I could follow a career path, though, please sign me up for J.K. Rowling’s. I’m OK with the whole living-on-welfare-until-book-sells stint. Or Oprah‘s. She’s kind of awesome.

Say yes. Accept the job, agree to that meeting, catch up over a cup of coffee, lend a helping hand … You can always say no later — or so I’ve heard. — Ryan Seacrest

I have been learning how to say no. I’m not good at it. I’m overscheduled. I’m a Type A kind of gal.

So the pie isn’t perfect? Cut it into wedges … Stay in control, and never panic. — Martha Stewart

Amber, you want me in your pod. I will remain calm under pressure, think about all the possible alternatives, and examine fully the consequences. One of my mottos is “Keep calm and carry on.” (Another is “If it ain’t broke, don’t spend three days and four trips to Home Depot trying to fix it,” but that is a story for another day.)

Resist the urge to write lists, especially if the list is Pros and Cons. Just go with your gut. — Hugh Jackman

While my gut is lusting after Jackman as Wolverine, the rest of me is making to-do lists. It’s what I do.

Don’t sleep with your boss. — Chelsea Handler and Barbara Walters

This one is easy. No offense to my former bosses (OK, offense definitely meant toward one of them), but I never had the desire to do the horizontal mambo with them. Never. Ew. Especially as many of them were women. (Wonderful women, but still.) I know many of the students in my department fantasize about my current boss because he is very cerebral, does yoga, gets acupuncture, and is very much in touch with his sensitive side. Fine. I can’t look at him that way. Ew, again.

Katie Couric didn’t ask me for my advice, but I’ll share it anyway. (Don’t expect anything too fresh. Isn’t all advice recycled?)

  • Decide what you like to do, then figure out how to get paid for it. (I like to observe and report.)
  • If a big project is causing problems, break it into smaller, more manageable tasks. (How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.)
  • Write to-do lists. You’ll feel a sense of accomplishment when you mark off completed tasks. (Sorry, Hugh.)
  • Take time to do things that are unproductive but enjoyable. (All work and no play makes me a dull person.)

Uh oh. That was another list. Sorry again, Hugh!

Surface pressure

I attended a lecture last night by Nicholas Carr, author of “The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains.” I was very interested in what he had to say because I have written about Carr before, and I have had his book on my shelf for nearly a year.

Sadly, I’ve been too distracted to read it.

And, sadly again, that’s his point.

What he says is true: The constant barrage of information via smartphone, iPad, desktop computer, laptop, iTouch, etc., is eroding our ability to concentrate. We’re reverting to cavepeople distracted by all the sights and sounds of our environment, as opposed to the erudite focusers we became after Gutenberg invented the printing press.

One of his slides gave me great pause.

People claim they check email a couple of times per hour. Once research participants were fitted with eye-tracking paraphernalia, researchers discovered they checked email 30-40 times per hour.

Yikes.

No wonder I’m not done with my dissertation yet.

To his credit, Carr identified the many ways the Internet has improved our lives, including enhanced visual-spatial skills. And he admits to being distracted as well.

Here’s the point I’ve made before: The Internet is not going away. So what do we do to maintain and improve our ability to focus?

We turn it off. Use it sparingly. Have conversations without checking email, Twitter, Facebook, texts, etc. In Carr’s words to me in the book he signed, “Stay deep.”

I’ll be looking for a nice WiFi-disabled cave to hang out in while I finish my dissertation.

WrestleMania was glorious. GLORIOUS!

I laughed. I cried. It was better than “Cats.”*

It began with a bang: Edge, the R-rated Superstar, vs. Alberto Del Rio.

 

VS.

 

 

 

 

 

 





My first hearty laugh of the evening came when the announcer claimed that Edge, in his vise grip on Del Rio, was trying to “rip the pectoral from the bone.” Sure. Sure he was.

I enjoyed many more noteworthy moves:

There were tire irons, sledgehammers, folding chairs, ATVs, pyrotechnics, muscular men in small panties — everything a girl could want.

And Pee-wee Herman. What the heck was he doing there? Well, a little sketch with The Rock.

And Snooki. She wrestled with Trish Stratus and John Morrison against LayCool. And busted out some acrobatics. Who knew?

My favorite part was listening to the commentary from the announcers. Here’s a sample:

  • “I’m sure that knee doesn’t need any more punishment delivered to it.”
  • “Whatever is going through his mind is definitely diabolical.”
  • “That could have damaged his nervous system.”
  • “Is there an escape from hell’s gate?”
  • “We all smell what The Rock is cooking.”

Dominic and Gideon were fascinated. Dominic even felt the need to document the occasion.

Yes, more scarring.

I was scarred by the sight of John Cena’s jorts.

Despite that, plans are underway to watch WrestleMania XXVIII … in Miami!

*If anyone can find a video of the original Broadway show commercial that used this line, I will be eternally grateful.

“What is this, Mama?”
“This, Honey, is WrestleMania.”

Oh yes, it is.

In a shocking metamorphosis that began with moving out to “The Country” in 2006, continued with burning trash in the backyard and attending the Redneck Games and Rattlesnake Roundup, I have become what I feared the most: a redneck.

Or at least I have begun to assimilate into the culture.

I’ve been excited all week because tonight is Wrestlemania XXVII.

Ed almost had me talked into going to Atlanta to witness it live. But there is that little matter of an 8 a.m. class I have to teach. So, thanks to Xfinity, I can enjoy The Rock in the comfort of my own home. Oh yes, I would like to smell what The Rock is cookin’.

Also a draw: The Miz, whom I remember from “The Real World: Back to New York.” He’s also the WWE World Champion. And he’s AWESOME!

Ed and Trish have arrived for the event. Ed is in the kitchen, making nachos. Trish is taking bets on who wins each match. The kids are engrossed. Eddie is amused, as he usually is, by what I get us into. I’m writing this confessional. All is right in the world.

Look for the recap tomorrow.

Save the children

No. 7, “Why my children will be scarred for life,” tied for second place with No. 8, “The time I was sentenced to church,” in the Choose your own adventure race. Today I feel the need to address that topic. (Eventually, I’ll tell the church story also.)

So here goes:

Why my children will be scarred for life:

I stifle their creativity.
I will not let Dominic make sound effects in my car. I will not let Gideon draw on his bedroom walls with a Sharpie.

I limit their ability to make fashion choices.
I will not let Dominic wear a cape to school. I make Gideon wear his jacket when it is below 68 degrees outside.

I restrict their freedom of expression.
I will not let Dominic talk about poop at the dinner table. I will not let Gideon have a tantrum in the grocery store because I refuse to buy chocolate Easter bunnies.

I prohibit lifestyle choices.
I will not let Dominic subsist on bread alone. I will not let Gideon eat candy instead of a meal.

I repress their nurturing capabilities.
I will not let Dominic have a bat for a pet. I will not let Gideon and Mona the Dog swap spit.

Do you think I’m a terrible mother yet? Here’s more evidence:

  • I make them listen to the Ramones, the Monkees, Neil Diamond, Journey, Lady Gaga, the Pixies, Katy Perry, Marvin Gaye, Duran Duran, the B-52’s, Darius Rucker and Hanson — sometimes all in one day during the drive to school (view sample playlist).
  • I make them do manual labor: make their beds, clean up their toys, feed the dog, feed the cat, give water to the hermit crabs, carry in the groceries, carry their dirty dishes to the sink, help me make dinner, sweep the stairs, vacuum the living room, help Eddie with the yard work, etc.
  • I make them watch as many nature documentaries as episodes of “iCarly” and “Spongebob Squarepants.”
  • I make them eat kid-unfriendly vegetables such as Brussels sprouts, leeks, rutabagas, squash, broccoli, green beans, eggplant, beets, turnips, mushrooms, fennel, peppers, onions, spinach and celery. (Each of those has appeared on their plates some time over the past two months.)

So there you have it: one awful mother = two scarred children. Judge away.


No. 4 for the win

Well, I’m surprised. No. 4, “My latest food crushes,” won the “Choose your own adventure” race. No. 7, “Why my children will be scarred for life,” and No. 8, “The time I was sentenced to church,” tied for second.

As you wish.

I can still attack a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, but I’ve moved on.

Warning: The following items are not very healthy, especially if you eat them in large, ridiculous quantities (not that I would do that, of course), but they are delicious!

  1. Dark chocolate with sea salt from L’Artigiano by way of Wright Square Café in Savannah. Expensive as hell, but totally worth it.
  2. Gianduja hazelnut chocolate paste from Leone by way of Eataly in New York. It’s like Nutella’s snooty, cultured older brother. I feel like carrying a tube around in my purse and squeezing it into my mouth at stoplights.
  3. Fage Greek yogurt with fruit. My favorite is the blueberry-acai. Sweet grandmother’s spatula!
  4. Kettle brand baked potato chips, salt and fresh ground pepper flavor. I can be full to the bloated point and still devour an entire bag.
  5. Annie Chun’s sesame seaweed snacks. I have my friend Sophia to thank for this addiction. It seems like something you shouldn’t eat — it looks like a piece of green, crumply paper — but it tastes so good!
  6. Basler Läckerli, a Swiss biscuit made with spices, honey, almonds. I’ve been to Switzerland twice, both times around Christmas, which is when these treats are popular. I found them in Bern. I would fly to Switzerland just for these things. Actually, I would even walk and swim to Switzerland for them. They are that good. 

So that’s it. All my latest nasty little snack secrets are out in the open. I feel so vulnerable. (And fat.)

Choose your own adventure

Writer’s block. Dissertation stress. The lure of my pollinated backyard.

Whatever the reason, it is quite sad that I have had nothing to say here since the Rattlesnake Roundup. (Maybe that said it all.)

So you get to choose a topic:

  1. How to recognize and use rhetorical devices
  2. Common grammar mistakes and how to avoid them
  3. Pet peeves
  4. My latest food crushes
  5. My dissertation: What’s up with that?
  6. Newt Gingrich
  7. Why my children will be scarred for life
  8. The time I was sentenced to church
  9. Students, broken down by kind (an extension of this post)
  10. What I would do if I got Johnny Depp alone in a room

Your choice. Make a selection in the comments by Thursday, March 24, at midnight.

Redneck roundup

After Trish and I went to the Redneck Games last July, I knew I had to mark my calendar for the Claxton Rattlesnake Roundup. This marvelous event, held the second weekend in March, began in 1968 in an effort to reduce the rattlesnake population in the city. Now I think they have to truck in the snakes to round them up.

Sadly, Trish had to beg out to host a basketball tournament with the Savannah Storm. My friend Royce agreed to make the trek with me.

We got there early (9 a.m.) for the “3-D archery tournament.” It seemed promising, but the two of us made up 66.6 percent of the audience. The other spectator was an archer’s significant other, and I swear she was wearing pajama jeans.

While looking for the snake handling demonstrations, we ran across the entrance to the “birds of prey” area, which also doubled as home base for the gun raffle …

… and taxidermy expo.

We meandered outside and found the namesake snakes.

They were angry.

Around the corner, we spotted our first (and only) snake handler of the day. She was showing off a yellow rat snake.

Of course, we had to join in.

This is also where we spotted our first mullet. And what a glorious mullet it was (made even better by the Spiderman face paint).

We went back to the car to gather the energy (found in the cooler in my trunk) to continue. It was a good thing we did. We needed sustenance for the things we would see:

A coonskin cap

A coonskin snake

A many-skinned truck

A fish in a truck

Some knobbly butts

Rattlesnake queen

Stuffed acid-washed jeans

Stuffed coiled-up snake

Cantilevered waist

Human hamster balls

Massive overalls

A country fair is never complete without fried alligator and spiral potatoes.

That’s it. That’s all we could take. Royce is trying to talk me into going to the Warrior Dash. Maybe …

Open letter to homophobes

Dear Straight Brethren (or Closeted Brethren Pretending to be Straight) Who Oppose Gay Marriage:

I want to talk to you about something very important. I’d like to think that we’re all reasonable adults, and I hope you can open your mind to the points I am about to make.

We both know that it really isn’t our business whom gay people marry or if they marry at all.  Their desire and ability to marry have no effect on my marriage or yours any more than Charlie Sheen’s “marriages” have.

Before you bring up the so-called “sanctity of marriage,” let me remind you about Larry King, who is on his seventh wife. You don’t seem to care about him (or Tiger and his traveling tool), but you seem to be squawking loudly about the Defense of Marriage Act. Defense of Marriage? Really? We need a defense for an institution that is all about individual choice? People are going to choose it or not choose it, be happy or unhappy, make a mess of it or not make a mess, and no legislation can do anything about that.

So what we are talking about here is discrimination. Let me remind you that gay people pay taxes. They’ve essentially paid for legislation that discriminates against them. That sucks. We’re talking about human beings who have just as much right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness as we do. If they aren’t treated equally under the (tax-funded) law, maybe they shouldn’t have to pay taxes. Uh oh.

Please don’t talk to me about the Bible. You can’t use the Bible for two reasons:

  1. If you are going to adhere to one passage, you have to adhere to the whole thing. Should we start stoning adulterers? Maybe we can start with Newt Gingrich. (You know the Bible also says divorce is wrong.) Don’t get me started on why literal interpretations of the Bible are a bad thing in general. Even the Vatican doesn’t advocate a literal interpretation, and you know how I feel about the pope.
  2. There’s this crazy thing we have here in America called “separation of church and state.” I know it isn’t very convenient sometimes, but there it is. So don’t allow gay people marry each other in your church if you think homosexuality is a sin. That’s fine. But civil unions should be available to give same-sex couples access to state-created rights. You know, the states they pay to operate through tax dollars.

The choices any people make in their personal lives do not affect me at all — unless, of course, they choose to attack me or my family physically, or rob us, or something like that. And that’s when the law should get involved.

You know what does affect me, affect us? Misuse of tax money. Cuts in education. Poor road maintenance. National dependence on oil. I could go on, but I won’t. You are reasonable. You get my point.

Can we please focus on legislation that truly affects how we live our lives?

Let’s be reasonable.