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Monday, December 15, 2003

Laugh-Out-Loud Time Waster for Wednesday, December 15th

A little laugh brought to you (to me, anyway) courtesy of Babelfish and Altavista:


This is what happens when you translate Friday night's entry into French and back:

Things I will be sure to remember after this evening:

Anyhow happy you must adapt in a dress which you could not wear during years, really should try to you to downwards rest in it before you the use it with an event where you will sit down. In this way you can discover in front of time if it transforms as by magic your section median into rather decent imitation of the man of Michelin any time that you slacken in resting position, and plane around that.

the coat + the tights of crepe skirt Floor-length + of wools calf-length = more static cling than you ever saw apart from an advertising film of sheet of desiccator of rebound. FYI Right.


Carrying lodging when one does not have the heels used in a really long time should be gradually approximate, like the development. The exaggeration of him the first harms outside is not a wise idea. The attention with this would also eliminate the possibility of discovering as you obtain equipped who the only pair of marine-blue shoes that you have are a too small half-size.

In spite of this little of minor lesson, and makes that I never found a restaurant to eat with still as a long time as I live (I completely never saw resembling it of jambalaya this eew), double density and I had this evening an absolutely sensational time. I will not enter a ton of details and will not annoy you all, but we looked at enough, we were treated as the ladies everywhere that we went, perfectly comprised double density, the ballet was superb, the music was astonishing, and I am even parvenu not to feel me as a dolt once (thanks to the fact that one time that I discovered the thing of statics-fixing, I just did not remove my coat when I walked around). Not ONCE THAT all the evening, not even when I was parking or control around in a sector familiar semi-little or anything. It IS an enormous achievement for me.

It took me a minute to figure out that "double density" is C, i.e. "Dear Daughter". Too funny. This is a lot of fun; try it yourself with an email (and Russian maybe?) and see if you can waste a few hours at it. :)

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Wednesday, November 05, 2003

caution -- you will never look at Yoda the same again

If you are at all familiar with Jane Austen movie adaptations as well as Star Trek and/or Star Wars (or if, like me, you are obsessed with anything that involves Jane Austen's books or characters, and you have two family members who are likewise obsessed with Star Wars), you must visit this site: Galactic Jane Austen. My personal favorite is the Mr. Bennet one (not to give too much away). You decide for yourself, however.



Warning: empty bladder before visiting.

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Thursday, October 23, 2003

funny

So far my day has been quite amusing. I read in a weblog that Howard Dean has an A rating from the NRA, and I went to verify that and I found this page (Howard Dean on Gun Control). [side note: this is not actually pertinent to this story, but I was a little blown away that on this issue he actually seems more of a libertarian than a Democrat.] Then I was clicking around -- they have a very useful section of links where you can find either that candidate's views on other issues, or other candidates' views on that issue -- and through a series of links I wound up clicking on a link to "Hillary Clinton on Morals and Values." The result? 404 -- "Not Found." I'm sorry. Perhaps I'm easily amused today. But that just seemed so totally fitting.


And while I'm being easily amused, check out this guy's ebay listing. It's a riot.

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Thursday, October 02, 2003

the grouchies, and a funny

I feel kind of grumbly and grouchy today. I don't know exactly why. I think it has something to do with the fact that I got myself roped into taking the neighbor ladies to the valley tomorrow and I feel all guilty and mean and uncharitable because I'm unhappy about that. I have to figure out the logistics of dropping them off at a very crowded funeral and picking them up again, without a cell phone so they could call me to tell me when they're done. And they can't shuffle more than twenty yards at the most so I can't just park and go get them, I have to actually drive right up to the church and park close. sigh. But that's not a full explanation for my case of the grouchies. I seem to have started a minor furor over at someone else's diary's notes section, completely inadvertently, and that doesn't help.


I did get to go see T today. He had to drive down to his regular workplace to get some tools/parts/whatever, and so we drove up to meet him for lunch. That was nice. The kids and I played pool in the little diner where we ate and walked along the river. That was nice too. That certainly shouldn't have made me grouchy. Who knows what goes on in my mind.


LT and I had a good laugh last night, although he didn't know exactly why; he was just laughing because I was laughing. I was reading The Silver Chair onto a tape for my dad, and we got to the part where Jill, Eustace, and Puddleglum are trying to figure out how to get out of the giants' castle at Harfang so that they could get under the ruined city, as Aslan had told them to do. Jill's job was to act like a silly little girl and try to get information out of the giants while they were off their guard. The line goes:

"She made love to everyone--the grooms, the porters, the housemaids, the ladies-in-waiting, and the elderly giant lords whose hunting days were past. She submitted to being kissed and pawed about by any number of giantesses..."

OK, now, look. I know fully that "made love" didn't mean then what it means now. And generally I have the furthest thing from a dirty mind that's humanly possible in the year 2003. But I was so tired last night, and when I'm tired I am very prone to this slap-happy kind of attitude, in which, in turn, I am very prone to getting fits of the giggles for no reason at all whatsoever. It took about five tries to get through the first sentence of that quote. I'd burst out laughing, then stop and rewind the tape to find my place again and start over, and LT would crack up laughing at the sound of my laughter on fast rewind, so we'd have to listen to that a few times in both directions. Then I finally got a good "take" of that one and came to the bit about being pawed by giantesses and I had to start the whole thing over. I couldn't help it. And I felt so guilty for finding it funny... but I just couldn't stop. I felt like I was back in junior high. (now there's something to have nightmares about).

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Sunday, September 28, 2003

really embarrassing stuff

Here's a dubious milestone: My Google Toolbar's Popup Blocker has just blocked its thousandth popup. I installed the program maybe a month ago. This says a lot about both the prolific nature of popup ads (thank you, Google!), and the amount of time I spend online. *ahem*.



I am taking advantage of the fact that the kids are watching a home movie from a camping trip we took in Morro Bay a couple of years ago -- my parents, my brother and his family, and our family -- to sit here lazily with a diet peach Snapple, instead of folding the bazillion loads of laundry that are patiently waiting in their baskets for me. The most memorable thing about that trip was the weather. Everyone had told us that wintertime is really underrated for beach camping -- no crowds, mild weather, all that. So we braved it, and apparently we came during the worst week of weather they'd seen in years (day after Christmas through New Year's, 2001). It rained. It was unbelievably windy. It was foggy. The sun almost never came out, and we ended up going home after only three days or so, instead of six. And yet we had a wonderful time -- LT learned to ride his bike without training wheels, we saw sea elephants and otters, we took up chess and brought home a pile of fun memories. One particularly funny episode occurred: my parents had taken the kids for a walk down the beach, and T and I took off for a loverly stroll in the opposite direction, but quickly decided to take a quick walk back to camp and, er, make good use of the rare time alone. We rejoined the rest of the family as the kids were digging a deep hole on the beach. My brother asked, conversationally, where we'd gone on our walk. So I said, intending a wink-wink inside joke with T, "Oh, nowhere in particular, just up and down, you know." A totally innocent remark, right? We went up and down the beach. They were all supposed to imagine us picking up shells, holding hands, exclaiming about the view, watching the gulls, whatever. I think most of them did. But immediately my mom started trying to stifle a laugh. Then she started failing. I joined in. So I was sitting there nearly having hysterics with my mother -- both of us still making a valiant effort to look as though we weren't laughing at all -- about my sex life. It was truly a surreal moment.



I can't believe I just told you that.



While I'm embarrassing myself, though, I could have died yesterday; I definitely have a new story to add to my "Most Embarrassing Moment" rotation. I was at Smart and Final, my new favorite grocery store (12-packs of Diet Peach Snapple for $8 were my irresistable temptation this time around), and there was this fresh-out-of-puberty boy checking my purchases. While I wrote the check he asked me to stand aside so that he could bring my cart through and put the bags in it. So I did, only somehow my purse got snagged on the edge of the cart as he pulled it through. It was sitting there open, because I had just pulled out my checkbook, and it fell off the check-writing tray and dumped all its contents on the floor. Including two super-plus tampons. The guy felt so bad about dumping it out that he immediately bent over to pick stuff up; I got there first, fortunately, but he was blushing and avoiding my eyes as he handed me my change. Not that I was exactly meeting his. I don't know if I can ever go there again, in spite of my physical addiction to the chicken burger patties I can only find there; anytime that checker sees me he'll remember me as The Woman Whose Tampons Fell Out Of Her Purse. I know I shouldn't care; why should I care? But I do. sigh.



On a positive note, I have lost another pound and I'm now at 174, which means I have lost 20 pounds total so far in, hmm, nine weeks or so. That's a nice feeling. Two pounds more and I'll be at a double milestone: halfway to my goal and my prepregancy weight from my first pregnancy. So far, though, one thing is disappointing: not one single person has asked me if I've been losing weight. I've been kind of waiting for that. Maybe by the time I'm actually done losing weight, it'll happen. :)

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Sunday, September 21, 2003

stupid spam and diet cherry coke

Obviously spammers must expect that any recipient of their glurge who actually takes it seriously and replies will be a little low on gray matter, or at least seriously naïve, and they profit from that without being bothered by it. But exactly how stupid do they think people can be? Here's a spam I got just a few minutes ago (you can click on it to view it larger; it'll open in a new window):

Look, I don't know how to say this without coming across all Ugly-American and everything, but for crying out loud, if you're going to attempt credit-card fraud against people in the U.S. or other English-speaking nations, it might be a good idea to learn freaking English. Otherwise absolutely nobody, not even some really nice naïve elderly person who just gave her social security number, credit card number, and physical address to that nice-sounding young boy on the phone who was entering her in a contest to win a timeshare in Alaska, is going to fall for your idiotic scheme. Cripes.


As an aside, why, I wonder, are the elderly particularly vulnerable to stuff like that? It sounds so awful to say that... and yet they are -- not just to fraud schemes either; they seem particularly gullible about a lot of things. Maybe it's because they are from a more trusting time. I've no idea. In every other way they are pretty reliably intelligent, but even my smart, spunky, feisty grandmother who brought up seven kids on a shoestring and worked every day from the time her youngest flew the nest (and lots before that too) till she had her hip replaced at 75 repeats that stupid ball-pit story like she heard it from God himself. I don't get it.


My almost-4-year-old daughter has discovered the remote control. She is giddy with the glee of putting in Homecoming (that Showtime movie based on the book by Cynthia Voigt; we have it on video) and watching everyone run around in fast-forward and rewind. It sounds goofy until I remember how much giddy enjoyment I (at a considerably later age, considering that pretty much nobody but millionaires owned VCRs when I was 3) got from doing the same thing with music videos recorded off TV, and movies like Top Gun (the sex scene in that one was especially funny on rewind or FF. In fact, now that I think of it, I would probably still think so now).


The boys should be home anytime from their trip to southern CA. I really hope they're bringing me some diet Cherry Coke. For some idiotic reason, the northern CA bottler doesn't manufacture it, but the southern CA one does. T and I didn't even know it existed till this summer. Ever since we got our 2-(24-)pack-a-week Diet Coke habit -- well, even before that, since we liked Diet Coke for a long time before we could afford an addiction -- we have spent considerable time wishing there was such a thing. Then we were in Morro Bay over the summer, and we literally could not believe our eyes at first when we saw THE GRAIL -- Diet Cherry Coke in 12-packs. We bought three 12-packs on the spot, loved it, and rejoiced that the Powers the Be at Coca-Cola had finally gotten the idea and started making it. Then we got home and there was no diet Cherry Coke here. We had been tricked -- teased! After extensive internet research I unearthed the truth: Diet Cherry Coke has actually existed for a long time, it's just that the Communists in northern California have been keeping it from us. I actually called the Northern CA bottler and was further led on by their spokesperson who said (in July) that they were planning to start producing Diet Cherry Coke within the month. She must have just said that to keep me from bombing their facility, because hello, it's September now, and still no diet Cherry Coke in our local stores. But T and LT have just spent 18 hours below the Grapevine, which is even further south than Morro Bay, and hence must be under the direct patronage of the good guys. Please please let them have remembered on time, before they passed back up into the diet cherry wasteland.


On that note, I have sat long enough and should really wash the dishes so that T doesn't take one look at the kitchen and say, "You spent the entire time I was gone chatting with Jenn and hanging out at Diaryland, didn't you." Which would not be entirely true. ahem.


* * * * * * * * ULTRA MEGA IMPORTANT DIET CHERRY COKE UPDATE * * * * * * * *

9:30 PM


I have the best husband in the world. Sorry ladies, you can stop looking, the perfect man is married. I knew that even BEFORE he came home with six 12-packs of diet cherry coke for me (all they had at Ralph's in Bakersfield). But it was just strongly reinforced. He brought me two on a bed of ice, as an homage to the way he used to put Peach Snapple in my car while I was at work, when we were dating. He would buy up every bottle of it they had in our small town -- which in the early 90's wasn't much as Snapple wasn't as big a deal yet then as it is now -- and put them by to leave for me a few at a time.


My regular diet Coke cans are looking at me resentfully. They'll just have to learn to share me for the next seventy-two cans' worth.

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Sunday, September 07, 2003

most embarrassing moment

Today's Diarist.net spark is the following:


What's the first thing you remember? Or rather, what is the oldest memory you have?



The first flash of memory I have, I was probably about 19 months old, because I think it was at our town's celebration of the bicentennial. But it could have been at a different kind of patriotic celebration, and hence I could easily have been a different age. At any rate, I remember walking along, being conscious that I had a frilly cover on over my diaper; the stamp mill at our town's historical museum was running, and there were American flags and red, white, and blue swags everywhere. I don't remember anything that happened; I just have that 2-second loop of mental videotape.


My first memories of events start when I was about 3. I remember when we were moving into a house where we lived for a couple of years when I was preschool age; my parents were occupied moving furniture and things into the house, and I was sitting on a little ledge and found a bottle of something on the ground. Either it was hair dye, or I thought it was, and I poured it over my head. It stung my eyes, I cried, and my mom came over and dealt with the situation. That is the first house I have any memories of living in.

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I dunno, I thought it was funny... Archives | Page 4 of 4

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