Have you seen the word on rising gas prices? Boy, oh Boy, down here in Titusville, EVERYBODY got the word. I got it, and decided to stop in at the station and fill up on the way home. So did half of Titusville. Fun, fun, fun.
I paid $2.52 at the place that's generally cheapest in my immediate area. From what I hear, it's going to be over $3.00 a gallon soon because of that nasty b@@ Katrina. What a wicked witch!
Not to be an alarmist or anything, but I'm seriously considering taking the money I'm (trying to sav)ing for a new computer desk (because mine looks like a tired old nag with a droopy back) and use it to buy a bicycle. I'll only get wet when it rains...Oh, yeah. That's every day. *(&^^%
Monday, August 29, 2005
New Blog Feature
On my last entry on this site I had four comments when I came back to look at things. Only one was for real--and rather amusing, I should say. So, from now on, if you're going to comment on my blog, you'll be faced with the minor inconvenience of a word-match tool. It's part of your comment, and it's easier than pi. Or pie, even.
If you have a blog, which you must if you are commenting, I strongly recommend using this tool. It's in your settings when you open your blog. Click Settings, then Comments and scroll down to just about the bottom. CLICK YES! Save yourself some aggravation.
Just to make sure I wasn't going to completely tick people off, I went back into my last blog and left a comment. It works and it really is easy. And auto-comment programs can't read it apparently. We'll see about that.
If you have a blog, which you must if you are commenting, I strongly recommend using this tool. It's in your settings when you open your blog. Click Settings, then Comments and scroll down to just about the bottom. CLICK YES! Save yourself some aggravation.
Just to make sure I wasn't going to completely tick people off, I went back into my last blog and left a comment. It works and it really is easy. And auto-comment programs can't read it apparently. We'll see about that.
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Poetry Day
Light Alight
Fade away from the dark and into lightness.
Bring out your spirit to shine.
Find pathways and make trails to bright shores.
I will wait for your light to alight.
Spirit Journey Dawn
There is a song inside my spirit
that yearns to be sung aloud.
There is a portrait inside my mind
that yearns for the eye to see.
For all that is hidden within,
there is much that is known of me.
A place I have visited in my mind
and walked through in my dreams.
A word I have spoken in my heart
and written on pages unseen.
These are the acts of the spirit
and to see them we must believe.
Here are the traces of love,
joy and laughter; all free.
Here are the moments of pleasure
taken in guiltless élan.
Here is where the spirit lies
awaiting our journey’s dawn.
Rules for writing poetry.
1. Candles of various flavors and sizes must be burning in several places around you, and no other lights may be on.
2. Music appropriate to the mood should be playing in background, just loud enough to influence the writing in a positive manner.
3. A glass of fine wine should be ready to sip as inspiration courses through your being.
4. A cat should be curled up at your feet, purring happily.
5. A gentle breeze should be blowing outside your open window that overlooks a beautiful water scene.
Reality of writing poetry.
1. Your candles are hurricane candles that are supposed to last for 60 hours and are gone in 60 minutes.
2. The music that is playing is all bass and it’s coming from the apartment below you.
3. You’re out of wine or beer and your milk went sour during the night. You can either make coffee and drink it without milk (ew) or have a soda or a bottle of water.
4. The cat at your feet might be purring, but it’s because he just ate your shoelaces off your only pair of work shoes. Rotten little fiend.
5. The gentle breeze is the hurricane passing south of you, and you can only see straight south, because the balcony door is broken and you can’t step out to look at the water to the east.
Fade away from the dark and into lightness.
Bring out your spirit to shine.
Find pathways and make trails to bright shores.
I will wait for your light to alight.
Spirit Journey Dawn
There is a song inside my spirit
that yearns to be sung aloud.
There is a portrait inside my mind
that yearns for the eye to see.
For all that is hidden within,
there is much that is known of me.
A place I have visited in my mind
and walked through in my dreams.
A word I have spoken in my heart
and written on pages unseen.
These are the acts of the spirit
and to see them we must believe.
Here are the traces of love,
joy and laughter; all free.
Here are the moments of pleasure
taken in guiltless élan.
Here is where the spirit lies
awaiting our journey’s dawn.
Rules for writing poetry.
1. Candles of various flavors and sizes must be burning in several places around you, and no other lights may be on.
2. Music appropriate to the mood should be playing in background, just loud enough to influence the writing in a positive manner.
3. A glass of fine wine should be ready to sip as inspiration courses through your being.
4. A cat should be curled up at your feet, purring happily.
5. A gentle breeze should be blowing outside your open window that overlooks a beautiful water scene.
Reality of writing poetry.
1. Your candles are hurricane candles that are supposed to last for 60 hours and are gone in 60 minutes.
2. The music that is playing is all bass and it’s coming from the apartment below you.
3. You’re out of wine or beer and your milk went sour during the night. You can either make coffee and drink it without milk (ew) or have a soda or a bottle of water.
4. The cat at your feet might be purring, but it’s because he just ate your shoelaces off your only pair of work shoes. Rotten little fiend.
5. The gentle breeze is the hurricane passing south of you, and you can only see straight south, because the balcony door is broken and you can’t step out to look at the water to the east.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
And Then It Goes REALLY FAST!
So, I finally made myself write the 3 extremely short essays and E-mail them to my boss, and all of sudden, BOOM! It's now 9:16 pm. Where did the 2 hours go? The essays were only, like, 3-5 sentences long. Not paragraphs, sentences. I had been doing paragraphs (and sometimes pages) and I was told that I was putting too much into it. So my essays were really, really short. What the ?
I think Foamy the Squirrel has been eating my brain cells. Stigmaaaaata. In my eye.
I think Foamy the Squirrel has been eating my brain cells. Stigmaaaaata. In my eye.
Time Flows Backwards
Wow. Time moves backwards when you’re looking for an excuse to not write that essay for your class at work. I was working pretty hard on running out of time. Then I looked at the clock. The first time it was 7:34 pm. I swear it was. I just looked again and it’s 7:25 pm. Now how did that happen?
Saturday, August 06, 2005
How Was Your Day?
Today was a good day for the most part. I slept in—well, after I got up at 6 to feed the wailing masses of fur bellies, then returned to my happy bed—and took my time getting in gear. The child next door must have still been sleeping, or maybe it wasn’t home. Whatever the deal was, there was no noise coming from next door and that was fine with me.
I had no particular plans for the day, except maybe to watch the second video I had rented. I decided to save a ton of money on cable. I went back to the free basic cable that comes with my apartment and re-opened my account with Blockbuster. Since I don’t watch movies every day, it makes a lot more sense. Besides, with the cable you only get movie channels if you pay extra for them. Then, whatever movie channel you have (i.e. HBO, Starz) has a hundred different versions, and they’re all playing the same selection of movies in the same order, with maybe a 30-minute variation in the timing. What exactly ARE you paying for there? If I want selection, I’ll go to Blockbuster and walk the isles like a stalker until I find what I want, or something close enough to the mark.
Anyway, back to what may have been my point. I chose to pop in the second video and discovered that it was a 2-disc movie—on one disc. How cool can you get? Just like the old vinyl LP’s where the grooves are scratched on both sides, they can put media on both sides of DVD! Whodathunkit?
So I popped in the video (Net Force with Scott Bakula and Kris Kristopherson) and was enjoying it when my cell phone surprised me by ringing. Drop everything and find the phone. It used to never be more than 5 inches from my hand. Now I have to go hunt for it because I can’t remember where I sat it down last.
It was my friend Deb asking if I wanted to go to the beach. “How soon,” I asked. I was trying to scope out if I could get some more of my movie watched before she got here. “About 5 minutes. Throw on your suit and some sandals and meet me in the parking lot.” Well, I wouldn’t be watching the rest of this right away. I really need some sun on my poor beached-whale legs. Especially since my face and arms have gotten so much sun. The two ends of my body look like they are not on the same body. So I put extra sun block on my arms, and slightly less (but still sun block) on my legs, hoping to play catch up. It SEEMED like a good idea at the time. But, later, I discovered I had blossomed quite the rosy red rump. Aloe gel is my friend.
Deb and her son, Holden, were in the parking lot, waiting next to the dumpster when I got downstairs. I climbed in the Vanilla PT and we cruised out to the beach. This was the beach that is part of the Nature Preserve at the Kennedy Space Center. There are several (maybe a dozen?) different parking areas for the beach, most only large enough for 10-20 cars. You park and walk up a boardwalk/stairway thing to cross the line of palmetto-covered sand dunes and there you are on a beautiful beach—without 8 million tourists.
Deb and I carried most of the “stuff” while Holden directed us to the correct place in the sand, first marching us to the edge of the water to see how far up on the sand it was coming, then finally climbing back up the sandy embankment to a spot half-way between the wet sand and the dune.
Holden kicked off his flip-flops, grabbed his goggles and foam stick-bar-branch thing, and ran for the water while Deb and I set up camp. We laid ourselves out on the blankets and picked up our books and proceeded to read. Holden decided the tiny purple shells everywhere needed to be collected, so he gathered some and brought them up to show Deb. Purple is her favorite color. We alternated turns entertaining him in the water (and cooling ourselves off) but mostly he entertained himself, which I find admirable for such a young boy. My stepsons were both very good at that, too. (See, I don’t hate small children—I just want the wailing next door to cease.)
Eventually, we decided we had spent enough time on the beach, so Deb and I de-camped while Holden rinsed his shells in the VERY CLEAR sea water. I felt the need, there, to stress the VERY CLEAR part, because in Virginia the beaches are not clear water. You cannot see what is under your feet when you are wading at the edges of waves. Here, you can see it so clearly that you can tell a purple shell from a red one. It’s like that.
They dropped me off, and I promptly made my way to my apartment to kick the sand off my sandals on the balcony and hit the shower to reduce my body temperature and clean off the mixture of sweat, sand, and sun block. I also reconditioned my hair, a necessity after the harsh sun. I didn’t want my fresh hair color getting brassy or dull.
After that, I sat back down to watch the rest of “Net Force.” One of the cats decided to join me. That, the sun, and the Benadryl/Advil combo I took before going to the beach (I had a little bit of a headache that I didn’t want getting worse) combined to make me fall sound asleep and completely miss the middle part of the movie. So, now I need to watch it again. It’s a good thing I got week long rentals this time. Not that they would fee me—they did away with those late fees (technically)—but I like to finish things or be places by the time that was specified. Late does not sit well with me. If I walk into work at the time I am supposed to be there, I am late in my opinion.
Anyway, I had a long nap with my cat (catnap?) and woke to find the movie almost over. At this point, I decided it was time to cook the chicken thighs I had thawed. So, I got up and started working on that. Then the cats wanted feeding because I was in the kitchen. Well, it was pretty close to their dinner time, so I fed them. (It’s easier than stepping on a cat tail or nearly falling over into the garbage can every time I move.) Then I ate a small bowl of my dinner and decided to call Deb back and see if she wanted me to bring the movie over and watch it at her place. She said to come over, but the movie would probably not happen because she had a houseful of family. Her parents are in town after bringing Holden back from his summer with them, and her oldest Ian was off from work, so he was playing video games on the TV. Whatever; I didn’t need the movie as much as I wanted the company, so I brought the movie (just in case) and drove the mile to her house. I know a mile is an easy walk, but I figured I would be coming back in the dark and I live on the wrong side of the tracks, so I drove.
While there, Deb got a bug in her ear and had to go to Walgreen’s. She asked if anyone wanted to join her. I piped up and so did Mike, her husband. Off we went to Walgreen’s. Only we had a major detour to Belk’s that just opened up down the road. Deb’s been suffering from a severe lack of real stores in Titusville, apparently. So, we went to Belk’s and walked straight to the makeup counter to see that, yes, they carry Estee Lauder makeup. Then we wandered around the store looking at the adorable clothes and smelling the sexy men’s fragrances, then made our way back to the makeup counter so Deb could make her purchase and get her free goodie-bag. Then we went to Walgreen’s so Mike could buy deodorant, and we wandered around in there forever until I finally found myself with a bag of caramel kisses and two candy bars in my hand. How they got there, I have no idea. But I gamely bought them and promised myself I would take them to work where other people would eat most of them.
Back at Deb’s, my cell phone rang AGAIN. This time it was my sister. I had to go on the patio to talk to her—no signal in their house. My Mom’s in the hospital again--nothing to panic about. She has these blister things that come up on her legs (I think they’re called Stasis Blisters) that sometimes get infected, and to make sure she heals alright, they put her in the hospital and feed her mega-antibiotics. She’s at Portsmouth Naval. I know they’ll take good care of her. Sometimes I tease her about how it’s always Queen Rose Day when she goes there. Later I had a call from my Dad that I missed because my sucky phone had died after the first call from my sister. But he was just giving me the phone number to Mom’s room. It was too late to call her when I got that message, so I’ll do it tomorrow.
Eventually, I decided the frequency of my yawns meant it was probably time to come home, so I bailed and headed back here. Now here’s where my day got not-so-good. Since I’ve lived in this building, I’ve watched things generally down-spiral until I now live in a junky place reminiscent of something I’d expect to see in the projects. I walked out into the hall today and there was trash strewn from one end of the hallway to the other. I get in the elevator all the time and find people’s trash left in there. People have scratched graffiti onto the elevator walls (stainless steal) and written across the beautiful hand-painted murals that line the lobby hallway. Someone used some body part to punch a whole in the window of one of the stairwells, and it has become a regular sight for me to see police/sheriff’s cars in the parking lot when I come home for lunch.
Well, tonight topped it. After the numerous times I’ve gotten in the elevator to stand in what I have always been sure was pool water, tonight I finally got in the elevator to the lovely aroma of pee. Yes, indeed, they are now peeing in the elevator. I was flat-out pissed (the figurative kind). I stepped back out of the elevator and pressed a button to make it go up. This is the only way to get the other door to open when they are both in the same place.
I got in the elevator that just had the normal trash (soda bottles and candy wrappers) and dialed Deb to tell her what I’d found. Poor thing must have thought something really bad had happened for me to call her back like that. I told her I was just ticked off and needed to vent it to someone. She understood. She knows me well. She also knows I’ll let management know all about this. This is just ridiculous. How can people choose to live like this? GRRRRRR!
After I carried my shoes to the balcony (again) this time to air out the smell of pee, I decided I wanted some nachos. Holden had been snacking on some at their house, and I found I suddenly wanted some for myself. So I put some chips in a pie plate and sprinkled some cheese over them, set the oven to broil and put the pie plate on the top shelf. I was supposed to pay attention because I knew they’d get done quickly that way, but I got engrossed in the latest website they turned me onto. I won’t share this one because I don’t want any minors visiting and having their parents send me hate mails over it.
Anyway, I was laughing and enjoying that when I suddenly realized I smelled something burning. Great, my nachos. Yep, I have now created a new gourmet dish called Blackened Cheese Chips. You see, you take simple tortilla chips and shredded cheese, you put them in a pie plate and stick them in the oven on broil and forget them. You get charred, hard cheese with something like burned corn attached to it. Yum!
Actually, it was pretty good, as long as I ate around the solid black areas anyway. But I had to take quick action to avoid having my smoke alarm go off. The oven fan was already on, but the smoke was clearly way more than it could handle, so I ran to my bedroom (sorry folks downstairs—it was not a heard of elephants, I promise!) and got the great big fan that was so useful when my air went down. I rushed it to the living/dining area and plugged in, and cracked open the balcony door so the smoke would get sucked away from the range of the smoke detector. It worked apparently; that, or the smoke detector didn’t work. I choose the first one.
So there’s my day today, in a nutshell. I baked my rump at the beach, I slept through the middle of my movie, I bought bags of chocolate that I did not need, my Mom is in the hospital (getting spoiled), I stood in pee, and I tried to burn my building down.
How was your day? Never mind, I’m going to bed. Tomorrow is housework day. I have to wash my blankets to get the cat hair off of them. That should be exciting.
I had no particular plans for the day, except maybe to watch the second video I had rented. I decided to save a ton of money on cable. I went back to the free basic cable that comes with my apartment and re-opened my account with Blockbuster. Since I don’t watch movies every day, it makes a lot more sense. Besides, with the cable you only get movie channels if you pay extra for them. Then, whatever movie channel you have (i.e. HBO, Starz) has a hundred different versions, and they’re all playing the same selection of movies in the same order, with maybe a 30-minute variation in the timing. What exactly ARE you paying for there? If I want selection, I’ll go to Blockbuster and walk the isles like a stalker until I find what I want, or something close enough to the mark.
Anyway, back to what may have been my point. I chose to pop in the second video and discovered that it was a 2-disc movie—on one disc. How cool can you get? Just like the old vinyl LP’s where the grooves are scratched on both sides, they can put media on both sides of DVD! Whodathunkit?
So I popped in the video (Net Force with Scott Bakula and Kris Kristopherson) and was enjoying it when my cell phone surprised me by ringing. Drop everything and find the phone. It used to never be more than 5 inches from my hand. Now I have to go hunt for it because I can’t remember where I sat it down last.
It was my friend Deb asking if I wanted to go to the beach. “How soon,” I asked. I was trying to scope out if I could get some more of my movie watched before she got here. “About 5 minutes. Throw on your suit and some sandals and meet me in the parking lot.” Well, I wouldn’t be watching the rest of this right away. I really need some sun on my poor beached-whale legs. Especially since my face and arms have gotten so much sun. The two ends of my body look like they are not on the same body. So I put extra sun block on my arms, and slightly less (but still sun block) on my legs, hoping to play catch up. It SEEMED like a good idea at the time. But, later, I discovered I had blossomed quite the rosy red rump. Aloe gel is my friend.
Deb and her son, Holden, were in the parking lot, waiting next to the dumpster when I got downstairs. I climbed in the Vanilla PT and we cruised out to the beach. This was the beach that is part of the Nature Preserve at the Kennedy Space Center. There are several (maybe a dozen?) different parking areas for the beach, most only large enough for 10-20 cars. You park and walk up a boardwalk/stairway thing to cross the line of palmetto-covered sand dunes and there you are on a beautiful beach—without 8 million tourists.
Deb and I carried most of the “stuff” while Holden directed us to the correct place in the sand, first marching us to the edge of the water to see how far up on the sand it was coming, then finally climbing back up the sandy embankment to a spot half-way between the wet sand and the dune.
Holden kicked off his flip-flops, grabbed his goggles and foam stick-bar-branch thing, and ran for the water while Deb and I set up camp. We laid ourselves out on the blankets and picked up our books and proceeded to read. Holden decided the tiny purple shells everywhere needed to be collected, so he gathered some and brought them up to show Deb. Purple is her favorite color. We alternated turns entertaining him in the water (and cooling ourselves off) but mostly he entertained himself, which I find admirable for such a young boy. My stepsons were both very good at that, too. (See, I don’t hate small children—I just want the wailing next door to cease.)
Eventually, we decided we had spent enough time on the beach, so Deb and I de-camped while Holden rinsed his shells in the VERY CLEAR sea water. I felt the need, there, to stress the VERY CLEAR part, because in Virginia the beaches are not clear water. You cannot see what is under your feet when you are wading at the edges of waves. Here, you can see it so clearly that you can tell a purple shell from a red one. It’s like that.
They dropped me off, and I promptly made my way to my apartment to kick the sand off my sandals on the balcony and hit the shower to reduce my body temperature and clean off the mixture of sweat, sand, and sun block. I also reconditioned my hair, a necessity after the harsh sun. I didn’t want my fresh hair color getting brassy or dull.
After that, I sat back down to watch the rest of “Net Force.” One of the cats decided to join me. That, the sun, and the Benadryl/Advil combo I took before going to the beach (I had a little bit of a headache that I didn’t want getting worse) combined to make me fall sound asleep and completely miss the middle part of the movie. So, now I need to watch it again. It’s a good thing I got week long rentals this time. Not that they would fee me—they did away with those late fees (technically)—but I like to finish things or be places by the time that was specified. Late does not sit well with me. If I walk into work at the time I am supposed to be there, I am late in my opinion.
Anyway, I had a long nap with my cat (catnap?) and woke to find the movie almost over. At this point, I decided it was time to cook the chicken thighs I had thawed. So, I got up and started working on that. Then the cats wanted feeding because I was in the kitchen. Well, it was pretty close to their dinner time, so I fed them. (It’s easier than stepping on a cat tail or nearly falling over into the garbage can every time I move.) Then I ate a small bowl of my dinner and decided to call Deb back and see if she wanted me to bring the movie over and watch it at her place. She said to come over, but the movie would probably not happen because she had a houseful of family. Her parents are in town after bringing Holden back from his summer with them, and her oldest Ian was off from work, so he was playing video games on the TV. Whatever; I didn’t need the movie as much as I wanted the company, so I brought the movie (just in case) and drove the mile to her house. I know a mile is an easy walk, but I figured I would be coming back in the dark and I live on the wrong side of the tracks, so I drove.
While there, Deb got a bug in her ear and had to go to Walgreen’s. She asked if anyone wanted to join her. I piped up and so did Mike, her husband. Off we went to Walgreen’s. Only we had a major detour to Belk’s that just opened up down the road. Deb’s been suffering from a severe lack of real stores in Titusville, apparently. So, we went to Belk’s and walked straight to the makeup counter to see that, yes, they carry Estee Lauder makeup. Then we wandered around the store looking at the adorable clothes and smelling the sexy men’s fragrances, then made our way back to the makeup counter so Deb could make her purchase and get her free goodie-bag. Then we went to Walgreen’s so Mike could buy deodorant, and we wandered around in there forever until I finally found myself with a bag of caramel kisses and two candy bars in my hand. How they got there, I have no idea. But I gamely bought them and promised myself I would take them to work where other people would eat most of them.
Back at Deb’s, my cell phone rang AGAIN. This time it was my sister. I had to go on the patio to talk to her—no signal in their house. My Mom’s in the hospital again--nothing to panic about. She has these blister things that come up on her legs (I think they’re called Stasis Blisters) that sometimes get infected, and to make sure she heals alright, they put her in the hospital and feed her mega-antibiotics. She’s at Portsmouth Naval. I know they’ll take good care of her. Sometimes I tease her about how it’s always Queen Rose Day when she goes there. Later I had a call from my Dad that I missed because my sucky phone had died after the first call from my sister. But he was just giving me the phone number to Mom’s room. It was too late to call her when I got that message, so I’ll do it tomorrow.
Eventually, I decided the frequency of my yawns meant it was probably time to come home, so I bailed and headed back here. Now here’s where my day got not-so-good. Since I’ve lived in this building, I’ve watched things generally down-spiral until I now live in a junky place reminiscent of something I’d expect to see in the projects. I walked out into the hall today and there was trash strewn from one end of the hallway to the other. I get in the elevator all the time and find people’s trash left in there. People have scratched graffiti onto the elevator walls (stainless steal) and written across the beautiful hand-painted murals that line the lobby hallway. Someone used some body part to punch a whole in the window of one of the stairwells, and it has become a regular sight for me to see police/sheriff’s cars in the parking lot when I come home for lunch.
Well, tonight topped it. After the numerous times I’ve gotten in the elevator to stand in what I have always been sure was pool water, tonight I finally got in the elevator to the lovely aroma of pee. Yes, indeed, they are now peeing in the elevator. I was flat-out pissed (the figurative kind). I stepped back out of the elevator and pressed a button to make it go up. This is the only way to get the other door to open when they are both in the same place.
I got in the elevator that just had the normal trash (soda bottles and candy wrappers) and dialed Deb to tell her what I’d found. Poor thing must have thought something really bad had happened for me to call her back like that. I told her I was just ticked off and needed to vent it to someone. She understood. She knows me well. She also knows I’ll let management know all about this. This is just ridiculous. How can people choose to live like this? GRRRRRR!
After I carried my shoes to the balcony (again) this time to air out the smell of pee, I decided I wanted some nachos. Holden had been snacking on some at their house, and I found I suddenly wanted some for myself. So I put some chips in a pie plate and sprinkled some cheese over them, set the oven to broil and put the pie plate on the top shelf. I was supposed to pay attention because I knew they’d get done quickly that way, but I got engrossed in the latest website they turned me onto. I won’t share this one because I don’t want any minors visiting and having their parents send me hate mails over it.
Anyway, I was laughing and enjoying that when I suddenly realized I smelled something burning. Great, my nachos. Yep, I have now created a new gourmet dish called Blackened Cheese Chips. You see, you take simple tortilla chips and shredded cheese, you put them in a pie plate and stick them in the oven on broil and forget them. You get charred, hard cheese with something like burned corn attached to it. Yum!
Actually, it was pretty good, as long as I ate around the solid black areas anyway. But I had to take quick action to avoid having my smoke alarm go off. The oven fan was already on, but the smoke was clearly way more than it could handle, so I ran to my bedroom (sorry folks downstairs—it was not a heard of elephants, I promise!) and got the great big fan that was so useful when my air went down. I rushed it to the living/dining area and plugged in, and cracked open the balcony door so the smoke would get sucked away from the range of the smoke detector. It worked apparently; that, or the smoke detector didn’t work. I choose the first one.
So there’s my day today, in a nutshell. I baked my rump at the beach, I slept through the middle of my movie, I bought bags of chocolate that I did not need, my Mom is in the hospital (getting spoiled), I stood in pee, and I tried to burn my building down.
How was your day? Never mind, I’m going to bed. Tomorrow is housework day. I have to wash my blankets to get the cat hair off of them. That should be exciting.
Monday, August 01, 2005
Bansdhee Baby
Somewhere around Titusville, some angry apartment dweller is thinking, how the devil can I get back at this annoying neighbor.
I'll tell you how. Move a small, unhappy child into your apartment. And teach it to wail like a bansdhee from sun-up to sun-down.
Don't get me wrong--I have sympathy for the tiny tot. It knows it lives in a crap-ass building that desperately needs renovation; and it knows its parents are ticked about that fact, too.
It also knows that sound travels VERY WELL through these walls when the pitch and decibels are at the right levels. And that's what keeps making me do things like turning on the "3 Tenors" CD and blasting Pavarotti in their direction.
I WAS using Pink Floyd, Aerosmith, Queen, Styx (earlier years when they ROCKED). You name it, if it got loud, I tried it. The babe was always just one decibel louder.
But then I was touring some other blogs that friends have pointed out to me. And I found a great suggestion. I'm going to add WHALE NOISE to my media player! Great suggestion from the O'Blog. Nods to that one. I think he should stream Dio constantly on his blog. That would be awesome.
And if that doesn't work, I'll continue watching "Moulin Rouge" at the best volume my poor little TV can manage.
I have nothing against the little tyke. It's just that I have never, ever in my whole time here, heard one happy sound come from that apartment. Not once. I find myself wanting to poke my head through the wall and make google eyes at it just to confuse it into silence.
Why do I say "it," you ask? Because I have never SEEN this baby. I have no idea if it is male or female. Gasp! OMG, I just figured it out. It's not a baby at all! It really IS a bansdhee! AAAAYYYYEEEE!
And the TV just gave me my solution. Some cereal commercial (don't ask me what--I don't pay that much attention) where some manager guy keeps trying to fire this guy who never hears him because he's eating crunchy cereal. Then the cereal guy gets an intern who learns to sit there doing nothing but eat crunchy cereal. So the manager guy makes a "V" out of his fingers and says he's sending them a death ray, and they think he's giving them a peace sign.
I bet if I did that to the bansdhee next door, I could confuse it enough to quiet it down for a time. Then, I'd tickle it until it laughed.
I'll tell you how. Move a small, unhappy child into your apartment. And teach it to wail like a bansdhee from sun-up to sun-down.
Don't get me wrong--I have sympathy for the tiny tot. It knows it lives in a crap-ass building that desperately needs renovation; and it knows its parents are ticked about that fact, too.
It also knows that sound travels VERY WELL through these walls when the pitch and decibels are at the right levels. And that's what keeps making me do things like turning on the "3 Tenors" CD and blasting Pavarotti in their direction.
I WAS using Pink Floyd, Aerosmith, Queen, Styx (earlier years when they ROCKED). You name it, if it got loud, I tried it. The babe was always just one decibel louder.
But then I was touring some other blogs that friends have pointed out to me. And I found a great suggestion. I'm going to add WHALE NOISE to my media player! Great suggestion from the O'Blog. Nods to that one. I think he should stream Dio constantly on his blog. That would be awesome.
And if that doesn't work, I'll continue watching "Moulin Rouge" at the best volume my poor little TV can manage.
I have nothing against the little tyke. It's just that I have never, ever in my whole time here, heard one happy sound come from that apartment. Not once. I find myself wanting to poke my head through the wall and make google eyes at it just to confuse it into silence.
Why do I say "it," you ask? Because I have never SEEN this baby. I have no idea if it is male or female. Gasp! OMG, I just figured it out. It's not a baby at all! It really IS a bansdhee! AAAAYYYYEEEE!
And the TV just gave me my solution. Some cereal commercial (don't ask me what--I don't pay that much attention) where some manager guy keeps trying to fire this guy who never hears him because he's eating crunchy cereal. Then the cereal guy gets an intern who learns to sit there doing nothing but eat crunchy cereal. So the manager guy makes a "V" out of his fingers and says he's sending them a death ray, and they think he's giving them a peace sign.
I bet if I did that to the bansdhee next door, I could confuse it enough to quiet it down for a time. Then, I'd tickle it until it laughed.
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