NGS: Did you read that story in the Strib about the guy who got struck by lightning?
BB: I saw the picture of his sock.
NGS: He was in his backyard. He got hit, woke up, and crawled to the door of his house...uh...I guess his arms and legs weren't really working well... and started banging on the door, but his wife was sleeping and didn't hear him for a half an hour.
BB: Huh.
NGS: He had a live round in his pocket.
BB: Did it hurt him?
NGS: No, I guess it went off, but didn't hurt him.
BB: Huh.
NGS: You're missing the point! Who carries a live round with them while going outside in your backyard? WHY was there a live round in his pocket?
BB: Maybe that's what hunters do. Like you carry around Blistex and ponytail holders in your pocket.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Sun Induced Tramp Stamp
I have a long torso. This means that shopping for pants is easy. I just buy what fits me at the waist and if the pants are too long, I either get them hemmed or wear heels. But shopping for shirts is a challenge. Most shirts are just too short and a bit of my rolly polly belly hangs out. I...am not fond of this.
Last summer was pretty awesome for us long-torsoed girls. Stores were making extra-long tank tops and camisoles. These extra-long shirts really just fit me like a normal shirt, but still. It was easy! This summer, I have a budget crisis and can not afford a shopping spree, but even if I could, the "long layering tees" of last summer have shrunk! At some of my favorites stores, shirts called "long,"ones that fit just perfectly last year, now do not. I am sad. Bring back the extra fabric! Please!
Since I have been riding my bike on my commute to work pretty regularly, I have been pretty diligent in the application of sunscreen to my face, arms, and neck. It sucks because when I get to work I am typically sweaty and covered in sunscreen, but you do what you have to do, right? Even if I could afford to actually drive further than the grocery store, I'd have to pay for parking and I have a Midwesterner's disdain for that. I could take the bus, but then I have to leave twice as much time to actually get there and that might cut on in the amount of sleep I get. So, sweaty and sunscreened I am when I get into work.
The other day, as I was getting ready for bed, I heard BB snicker behind me. I turned and gave him THE LOOK to let him know I was not amused. He pointed at my back. I have a nice tan streak on my back where my too short shirts don't quite cover my back when I'm bent over riding my bicycle. "It's a sun induced tramp stamp!"
Argh. This could be solved, I suppose, by buying some bicycling jerseys. There is clothing designed for the purpose of riding bikes. The shirts are cut longer in the back so that every inch is covered when you are bent over. The thing is, they are expensive and ugly. There. I said it. If I'm going to spend that much money on a shirt, I don't want it to be ugly. Why do performance fabrics have to look like that? Plus, when I go to try on shirts at the bike store, I have to try on extra-extra-super-jumbo large shirts because girls who cycle are TINY and I am not. It makes me feel self-conscious and awful and why can't Pearl Zumi get on the Gap bandwagon ("really? a small is too big? I'll go ahead and get this extra-small then? Geez, Gap, you make a girl feel good.")? I know that just because it's labelled "ginormous" doesn't mean I am ginormous, but until they fix this system, I am going to have to be sure to include sunscreen on my lower back!
Last summer was pretty awesome for us long-torsoed girls. Stores were making extra-long tank tops and camisoles. These extra-long shirts really just fit me like a normal shirt, but still. It was easy! This summer, I have a budget crisis and can not afford a shopping spree, but even if I could, the "long layering tees" of last summer have shrunk! At some of my favorites stores, shirts called "long,"ones that fit just perfectly last year, now do not. I am sad. Bring back the extra fabric! Please!
Since I have been riding my bike on my commute to work pretty regularly, I have been pretty diligent in the application of sunscreen to my face, arms, and neck. It sucks because when I get to work I am typically sweaty and covered in sunscreen, but you do what you have to do, right? Even if I could afford to actually drive further than the grocery store, I'd have to pay for parking and I have a Midwesterner's disdain for that. I could take the bus, but then I have to leave twice as much time to actually get there and that might cut on in the amount of sleep I get. So, sweaty and sunscreened I am when I get into work.
The other day, as I was getting ready for bed, I heard BB snicker behind me. I turned and gave him THE LOOK to let him know I was not amused. He pointed at my back. I have a nice tan streak on my back where my too short shirts don't quite cover my back when I'm bent over riding my bicycle. "It's a sun induced tramp stamp!"
Argh. This could be solved, I suppose, by buying some bicycling jerseys. There is clothing designed for the purpose of riding bikes. The shirts are cut longer in the back so that every inch is covered when you are bent over. The thing is, they are expensive and ugly. There. I said it. If I'm going to spend that much money on a shirt, I don't want it to be ugly. Why do performance fabrics have to look like that? Plus, when I go to try on shirts at the bike store, I have to try on extra-extra-super-jumbo large shirts because girls who cycle are TINY and I am not. It makes me feel self-conscious and awful and why can't Pearl Zumi get on the Gap bandwagon ("really? a small is too big? I'll go ahead and get this extra-small then? Geez, Gap, you make a girl feel good.")? I know that just because it's labelled "ginormous" doesn't mean I am ginormous, but until they fix this system, I am going to have to be sure to include sunscreen on my lower back!
Monday, June 16, 2008
The Ramble
There is no point to this post. It is mostly an update. It is indeed a ramble of massive proportions.
Update #1: The truck has been returned to us. Monster is shinier than he has ever been while in my custody AND they cleaned out the cab (they make vacuums you can use on cars, but I don't know if Monster has actually ever seen one of those) AND gave me a little accident documentation kit to keep in my glove box that includes a camera and a pencil and a piece of paper. Genius. The insurance company finally just gave in; I think they were sick of me calling twice a day.
Update #2: I am no longer dying. I guess I should add that I never was dying, but last Wednesday I wasn't so sure about that. Biker Boy and I even managed to go on our first real bike ride of the season together earlier today. My definition of "real ride" means we weren't commuting. We put on bike shorts and rode our bikes without locks or panniers. My bike goes so much faster when it's not carrying three really heavy books! It wasn't a long ride, just over to Lake Harriet and looping around the trio of lakes that include Harriet, Calhoun, and Isles. Altogether it was maybe ten or eleven miles, but it was certainly a reminder to both of us that we need to get out more and enjoy our bikes, instead of just using them as transportation.
Last Friday, I turned down several offers of social capital building and insisted that Biker Boy join me at the University Bookstore for a reading and book signing by David Sedaris. Sedaris has released a new book and if you have never read a book by him before, go out, get all his previous books, read them, and then read his new one. It was hilarious listening to Sedaris read his personal essays and even more fun was waiting in line with my husband, playing 20 Questions. (He thinks "throwing star." I say "a pink elephant"? I think "a meteor." He says "a Rickenbacker guitar"?) It took hours, but was well worth it if you ask me.
I also promised you a story about blood, but instead I will say that BB's family in Iowa is safe and sound. Grandma and Grandpa's basement flooded, but no other harm has come. The last academic year was the first time in almost fifteen years that a person in BB's immediate family didn't live in Iowa City and there is a palpable sense of relief for the entire family that no one is having to deal with the current flooding.
Oh, and I do have to say that I have never had eyes as itchy as they are this year. I have gone through two entire bottles of Visine allergy drops. Holy hell. What's up with that?
Does anyone know how to cook salmon? We're slowly trying to introduce new recipes into our repertoire and I'd like to do a fish dish, but it turns out I don't like a lot of fish, so we're going to do salmon. Only we don't really know how...
Update #1: The truck has been returned to us. Monster is shinier than he has ever been while in my custody AND they cleaned out the cab (they make vacuums you can use on cars, but I don't know if Monster has actually ever seen one of those) AND gave me a little accident documentation kit to keep in my glove box that includes a camera and a pencil and a piece of paper. Genius. The insurance company finally just gave in; I think they were sick of me calling twice a day.
Update #2: I am no longer dying. I guess I should add that I never was dying, but last Wednesday I wasn't so sure about that. Biker Boy and I even managed to go on our first real bike ride of the season together earlier today. My definition of "real ride" means we weren't commuting. We put on bike shorts and rode our bikes without locks or panniers. My bike goes so much faster when it's not carrying three really heavy books! It wasn't a long ride, just over to Lake Harriet and looping around the trio of lakes that include Harriet, Calhoun, and Isles. Altogether it was maybe ten or eleven miles, but it was certainly a reminder to both of us that we need to get out more and enjoy our bikes, instead of just using them as transportation.
Last Friday, I turned down several offers of social capital building and insisted that Biker Boy join me at the University Bookstore for a reading and book signing by David Sedaris. Sedaris has released a new book and if you have never read a book by him before, go out, get all his previous books, read them, and then read his new one. It was hilarious listening to Sedaris read his personal essays and even more fun was waiting in line with my husband, playing 20 Questions. (He thinks "throwing star." I say "a pink elephant"? I think "a meteor." He says "a Rickenbacker guitar"?) It took hours, but was well worth it if you ask me.
I also promised you a story about blood, but instead I will say that BB's family in Iowa is safe and sound. Grandma and Grandpa's basement flooded, but no other harm has come. The last academic year was the first time in almost fifteen years that a person in BB's immediate family didn't live in Iowa City and there is a palpable sense of relief for the entire family that no one is having to deal with the current flooding.
Oh, and I do have to say that I have never had eyes as itchy as they are this year. I have gone through two entire bottles of Visine allergy drops. Holy hell. What's up with that?
Does anyone know how to cook salmon? We're slowly trying to introduce new recipes into our repertoire and I'd like to do a fish dish, but it turns out I don't like a lot of fish, so we're going to do salmon. Only we don't really know how...
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
In sickness and in health?
Do you want to test your shiny new marriage vows? Call your new spouse twice in the course of two days, both of the times sobbing, once making him leave work early to come home to take care of you.
I'm not going to go into all the gory details here (I can already hear you celebrating this joyous news), but I have learned a few new things in the last three days. If you start crying in a pharmacy, they will rush your prescription to get you out of there faster. If you start crying on a bus, it won't get you anywhere faster. Blood in your urine isn't a panic worthy event, even if you think it is. Throwing up while on the super mega antibiotic is, however. Don't combine Percoset and the super mega antibiotic - the doctor will get very angry with you. Your husband will in turn get very angry with the doctor.
Car insurance companies do not care that the accident was not your fault. Car insurance companies do care if you got the license plate number of the car that hit you. Your husband does care that the accident was not your fault and will give the insurance people a piece of his mind.
I have the best husband in the world.
I'm not going to go into all the gory details here (I can already hear you celebrating this joyous news), but I have learned a few new things in the last three days. If you start crying in a pharmacy, they will rush your prescription to get you out of there faster. If you start crying on a bus, it won't get you anywhere faster. Blood in your urine isn't a panic worthy event, even if you think it is. Throwing up while on the super mega antibiotic is, however. Don't combine Percoset and the super mega antibiotic - the doctor will get very angry with you. Your husband will in turn get very angry with the doctor.
Car insurance companies do not care that the accident was not your fault. Car insurance companies do care if you got the license plate number of the car that hit you. Your husband does care that the accident was not your fault and will give the insurance people a piece of his mind.
I have the best husband in the world.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
Death and Destruction
Hi! Over last weekend I made a child cry so hard she sweat through her adorable onesie, killed two defenseless fish, and managed to get the front end of Monster destroyed.
Let's discuss this in order, shall we? Our friends have the cutest little baby girl. But she is tricky. She cries. A LOT. Soooo...she's cute, but a screamer. She's also recently started getting even more worked up when strangers hold her - stranger danger, baby! Her parents have decided that she should be held by MORE people to make her LESS scared. And that's where I come in. I don't mind holding a screaming baby. At all. Even when her face gets bright red and her little fists are clenched and she pulls up her legs with all her might. But what I do object to is holding the screaming child so that she sweats through her little outfit. Poor baby.
(This screaming baby is in no way responsible for BB's adamant no baby stance, although her presence in our lives is not helping the situation...)
This same lovely couple who let me torture their child with my very arms also gave me two fish to care for. I did everything right - moved the fish in a bag so they wouldn't get stressed out, fixed the water with the anti-chemical, anti-bad stuff drops at room temperature, introduced them to the new water gradually, but the fish were dead within a couple of hours of the move to the new tank. I was quite put out with these fish for dying on me.
(The presence of dead fish is directly responsible for BB's stance that we need to get fish. I think he saw my sad face and knew that it was either fish, a dog, or a pig, and fish are the easiest things to clean up after.)
So we're driving home from the grocery store on Sunday evening, joking about how trips to the grocery store now that we are married are just exactly like trips to the grocery store when we weren't married, discussing how exciting it will be to watch Password (so my love of game shows is not a secret, right?), and won't it be nice to go take a walk around the lake on this uber-lovely, this is Minnesota in all its glory, weather.
I'm stopped at a red light, waiting to turn left. It turns green. But I'm so busy flirting with my husband, he actually has to say, "it's green." I look to the left and a blond in a red car with small dog blows through the red light. I look to my right - no one is coming. So I turn - straight into a little black car that has also run through the red light. The little black car backs up and DRIVES AWAY FROM THE SCENE. I immediately check that BB (eek! my husband!) is okay, our groceries are still in their bags, and FREAK THE FUCK OUT.
It is true that I don't have the best driving record, but I haven't ever, to my knowledge, fled the scene of an accident I have caused! Blech. And because of my less than stellar driving record, the insurance people are being dicks about it. Or maybe they're just being dicks because they are insurance people. Hard to say. Monster's pretty mangled, but there's no damage to the frame, so as soon as the insurance people give it a green light, he'll get fixed and we'll be out a large deductible.
So, bottom line. By the time the police and tow truck arrived, we missed Password. We did go for a walk around the lake, and we walked our damn groceries home, with only melted ice cream to show for our little misadventure.
Let's discuss this in order, shall we? Our friends have the cutest little baby girl. But she is tricky. She cries. A LOT. Soooo...she's cute, but a screamer. She's also recently started getting even more worked up when strangers hold her - stranger danger, baby! Her parents have decided that she should be held by MORE people to make her LESS scared. And that's where I come in. I don't mind holding a screaming baby. At all. Even when her face gets bright red and her little fists are clenched and she pulls up her legs with all her might. But what I do object to is holding the screaming child so that she sweats through her little outfit. Poor baby.
(This screaming baby is in no way responsible for BB's adamant no baby stance, although her presence in our lives is not helping the situation...)
This same lovely couple who let me torture their child with my very arms also gave me two fish to care for. I did everything right - moved the fish in a bag so they wouldn't get stressed out, fixed the water with the anti-chemical, anti-bad stuff drops at room temperature, introduced them to the new water gradually, but the fish were dead within a couple of hours of the move to the new tank. I was quite put out with these fish for dying on me.
(The presence of dead fish is directly responsible for BB's stance that we need to get fish. I think he saw my sad face and knew that it was either fish, a dog, or a pig, and fish are the easiest things to clean up after.)
So we're driving home from the grocery store on Sunday evening, joking about how trips to the grocery store now that we are married are just exactly like trips to the grocery store when we weren't married, discussing how exciting it will be to watch Password (so my love of game shows is not a secret, right?), and won't it be nice to go take a walk around the lake on this uber-lovely, this is Minnesota in all its glory, weather.
I'm stopped at a red light, waiting to turn left. It turns green. But I'm so busy flirting with my husband, he actually has to say, "it's green." I look to the left and a blond in a red car with small dog blows through the red light. I look to my right - no one is coming. So I turn - straight into a little black car that has also run through the red light. The little black car backs up and DRIVES AWAY FROM THE SCENE. I immediately check that BB (eek! my husband!) is okay, our groceries are still in their bags, and FREAK THE FUCK OUT.
It is true that I don't have the best driving record, but I haven't ever, to my knowledge, fled the scene of an accident I have caused! Blech. And because of my less than stellar driving record, the insurance people are being dicks about it. Or maybe they're just being dicks because they are insurance people. Hard to say. Monster's pretty mangled, but there's no damage to the frame, so as soon as the insurance people give it a green light, he'll get fixed and we'll be out a large deductible.
So, bottom line. By the time the police and tow truck arrived, we missed Password. We did go for a walk around the lake, and we walked our damn groceries home, with only melted ice cream to show for our little misadventure.
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