When I first drove by this sign, I thought it said, “Blog for Rent.” But that didn’t make sense. In addition to the obvious question of why someone would want to rent a blog, and also why someone would print a sign to advertise such a transaction, it is Pooler. I doubt most people have considered the Internet as a marketplace. Strong words, I know, but I don’t see much evidence of advanced business acumen in this stretch of road. Look at this:
Inviting, no? I think the flags really draw people in, don’t you? Continue Reading »
A little moment from “Seinfeld,” Episode No. 145, “The Little Jerry” (fast forward to 4:50, enjoy the exchange and the Spanish subtitles. Woohoo!)
If you don’t have time to watch, here is the transcription of the key exchange:
JERRY: You asked her out?
GEORGE: Well…not “out.” She’s in prison.
JERRY: How could you ask her out?
GEORGE: Why not?
JERRY: I remember when you wouldn’t date that girl who lived in Queens because you didn’t want to go over the bridge!
GEORGE: That was different!
JERRY: I’ll say.
GEORGE: Jerry, I like being with her. Plus, I know where she is all the time. I have relatively no competition. And you know how you live in fear of the pop-in?
JERRY (shudders): The pop-in.
GEORGE: Yeah, no pop-in, no “in the neighborhood,” no “I saw your light was on.” And the best part is, if things go really well…
JERRY: Conjugal visit?
GEORGE (giddy): Don’t jinx it!
People don’t appreciate the pop-in. Well, let me be clear. I don’t like the pop-in. It isn’t that I’m not social or that I don’t like spontaneity. It is just that I have a pretty tight schedule and unexpected events mean I have to retool that schedule. Without the time-management plan, I can’t get everything done.
My advice: If you are considering a pop-in visit, make sure the object of your attention likes them too. Otherwise it is just selfish.
I received the following depressing e-mail yesterday:
Hi Ruben and Beth,
Unfortunately, we only received seven applications for the Mexico 2009 off-campus programs.
I had hoped that a few more might come in this week, but no luck.
I have notified the applicants that the trip has been canceled for this year—hopefully we will be able to schedule it again in the future.
Blaine
There needs to be at least 12 students. What happened to all the “I’m going!” folks? I was really looking forward to conducting this off-campus program. On the bright side, I now have two extra weeks of freedom in December.
I just used that word in a text message to Trish the Human. I was typing it before I realized I had even thought of it. This is how I work.
The Urban Dictionary defines it as “an expression of disdain, disbelief, protest, or dismissal; a huff, grunt, or snort.” The site defines the word in other, less savory ways as well, but I’m not going to go into that.
It’s a good, useful word, and it conveys plenty of meaning in just seven letters. In case you are curious, I harumphed at Trish because she has been sick for two weeks but won’t go see a doctor. I said she was like my third child. She replied, “Fourth.” I said, “Yes. Fourth. Harumph,” which says a lot.
It’s been a crap-tastic week, literally and figuratively. There is a lot going on right now, and not a lot of it is good. Family health issues, mainly. Dissertation procrastination also.
Dominic just capped off the week with a shout from the bathroom: “Mama, will you wipe my butt?” Sigh. I’m going to remind him of this when I meet his first girlfriend. And much, much later, I’ll shout it myself in the nursing home. Ah, the joy of being very old or very young.
I don’t usually consider the poop of others, unless one of my sons is telling me about his, or one of the dogs has to go out. However, I was forced to consider Trish the chicken and her system when I saw this:
The frightening thing is that I almost slipped in it. Yes, I would have posted a photo of that. I have no shame.
Here are five ways to tell if you have overstayed your welcome in someone’s home:
1. Your hosts start yawning, and talking about how much they have to do the next day.
2. Their eyes begin to glaze over.
3. They leave the room and the conversation, such as it is, to take a phone call. A long call.
4. They reappear in their pajamas.
5. They announce that they are going to bed.
My advice is to get the hint at No. 1. Some people don’t. A couple of visitors to our house have made it to No. 5. Repeatedly. And it isn’t like we go to bed at 10 p.m. when we have guests. I’d like to think we are just so interesting that we make people want to linger. But I suspect we attract a certain kind of stray: nice people who are maybe a little lonely. A few folks are welcome to stay for weeks. You know who you are.
I like this cartoon. I don't, of course, like the error.
I first heard about the store Forever 21 from a student in one of my classes a couple of weeks ago. That same week, a graduate student in another class was wearing a cute outfit and she said she got it at Forever 21. I was at the mall yesterday, so I went in.
Up until that point, I had never felt particularly old. True, the occasional “Diff’rent Strokes” joke did fall flat in class, but I could live with that. But surrounded by St. Vincent’s students and hoochie clothes, I knew I was way out of my element. I felt like Jimmy Stewart in “Vertigo.”
How I felt at Forever 21
My wrinkles and I left immediately, never to return.
I watched “Survivor” tonight and rolled my eyes when Shambo (Shambo!) let a chicken escape and her tribe freaked out. I actually said, “They should stop chasing it. It will come back to the cage at night.” And those words were preceded by that old-ladyish “tsk” sound. I don’t even know what to say about myself. I can’t believe it has come to this.
Here is some video of Trish and me. Two are as one.
Observe and report 