Friday, June 29, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Oh jeez. Everybody hates the immigration bill. I don't like it either, but not for the same reasons these callers don't. Can this be for real? My mind is a blank and I can't think of anything to say to Goode.
The guy talking now sounds drunk. Still, he's complaining about the war in Iraq, so that's good. Let's see what Goode says: "Radical Islam, Radical Islam...blah blah..."
People are concerned about Social Security too. Any time a caller expresses a view that opposes Goode's views, he says, "Ah thank you for your call," and then they disappear.
7:15 Now there's a lady complaining about how her neighborhood is "overrun with immigrants" and how they're all in gangs and she "sees the drug deals". What a crock of shit.
I don't support the Immigration Bill because I see it as legalized exploitation of an uneducated workforce, not because I fear the immigrants themselves.
7:19 A teacher is complaining about NCLB--a refreshing change from the immigrant-bashing. Goode doesn't like it either and wants to "make it optional" and sees himself in a fight against an unholy "Bush-Kennedy Alliance."
7:31 Now there's a guy complaining about the xenophobic attitude of the anti-immigration commenters. He's asking how Goode plans to pay for his plan to "march all the illegal immigrants across the border."
7:38 Now the vast majority of callers are from Charlottesville and Albemarle. Earlier it seemed like people from other areas.
So here goes.
1.My biggest talent is a near photographic memory. My husband Jon will say something like, "Where's that tiny scrap of paper I used to write down the phone number of that really cool guy I met eight months ago?" and I will say, "It's on the third shelf in the bathroom, held down by an empty bottle of children's Advil." And there it will prove to be.
2.I was a rower in college. Generally, I hate sports, but crew was something else.
3. From August 1991 through Februrary 2002, I was either pregnant, breastfeeding, or both without a single break.
4. Since the age of 6, I can get to sleep in just one way--reading in bed until I drop off.
5. The sight of people eating ice cream makes me feel nauseous.
6. I was fired from my first job after just two weeks. I was 16, and worked for an Italian bakery. The owners didn't speak English very well. I thought they wanted me to work Tuesdays and Thursdays. Turns out they wanted me to work every day except Tuesdays and Thursdays.
7.I caught the chicken pox from a nurse in the delivery room at my own birth. My mom caught it too. She was a lot sicker than I was, or so I've been told. My parents had to postphone my christening because I was so scabby and ugly. Then there was worry that I wouldn't be immune, because immunity doesn't always take in a newborn. I was very worried about this when my own kids got chicken pox, but I didn't get sick, so I guess I'm immune.
8.My brother and I are less than a year apart. For two weeks this August, we will be the same age until I have a birthday and become a year older again.
Tags--I am tagging anyone who wants to do this.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Where can I collect my certificate?
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
I made good progress on Mad Scientist's window, and then made an unpleasant discovery: We have rot.
Not to worry, there are, I discovered, all manner of epoxies and chemicals for your rotting wood needs. If you believe what you read on the internet, you can transform your house from this,
in three EZ steps.
Off I went to the hardware store, again, and purchased some chemicals. There are a lot of scary warnings on the label:
But when I opened the container, I had an immediate flashback memory to my early childhood. Putty! My father must have used it.
Monday, June 04, 2007
I always feel guilty, passively accepting entertainment in a movie theater, but with the sad remnants of Tropical Depression Barry raining down on us, we had nothing better to do, so we went to see Pirates of the Caribbean: at World's End. With the Pirates movies, you have two choices: you can sit there rolling your eyes, making snide comments about plot idiocies, or you can blockade all the common sense in your brain and just have fun. I opted for the latter. From the very first moment the plot is hideously complicated. I realized, with something akin to panic, that I'd forgotten everything that had happened in the second movie, other than the kiss between Elizabeth Swann and Jack Sparrow. Then I reflected that this doesn't matter. Surely Disney does not expect its audience to have long memories. And so I relaxed and watched Sparrow & co. wrangle with that most deadly of enemies, the East India Trading Company, which apparently has the authority to order the governors of small British colonies to their deaths with impunity. But there I go rolling my eyes again. The dealings, double dealings and betrayals are dizzying, but Jack Sparrow never loses sight of the Heart of the matter.
The movie is every bit as fantastic as a Greek myth. The acting is good too. Geoffrey Rush as Captain Barbosa is marvelous. Who else could steal a scene from Johnny Depp's Jack Sparrow? Keith Richards makes a pointless appearance as Jack Sparrow's father. He's the official Keeper of the Pirate Code, and he takes his job very seriously. I liked the Calypso storyline too. None of the reviews I read even mentioned Naomie Harris. Recommended for thinking and non-thinking viewers alike.
Friday, June 01, 2007
I am a purger. I have to be. I live in a 1600 sq. ft. house with four children, a husband, two dogs and a bunny. We have one closet (plus a tiny coat closet), no garage, and a basement that is not suitable for storage, and yet our house is not cluttered. This is because I ruthlessly and religiously rid our space of any superfluous possessions. I enjoy doing this. One of my favorite ways to vent my anger is to furiously pack up pretty much anything in my line of site and donate it to charity. My philosophy: If it pisses me off, I throw it out.
J and I are getting new gutters, and J, impatient, started tearing the old gutters off the house. Soon we had a sad pile of crushed, foul smelling aluminum in the yard. I called Coiner's and they said they'd take it. J jeered at me as we loaded the minivan. "You'll probably get $.50," he said. This was my first visit to Coiner's. We drove down the long dusty driveway along the side of the CSX tracks and faced a bewildering array of industrial sheds and piles of scrap. Large trucks rumbled past. I noticed a dirty sign labeled "DROP OFF CANS, BATTERIES....HERE." We parked and lugged our 18 pounds of gutter (all we'd removed today, but less than a quarter of the house's total gutterage) and tossed them onto a scale. A man gave us a receipt, told us where to go to get paid, and 30 seconds later we were handed $7.20.
Not only did we save ourselves the trouble and cost of arranging a large trash pick up, we recycled some aluminum, got rid of an unsightly pile of trash and got paid besides. I am basking in my awesomeness.
...an agonized cry came from the lighted room ahead of me.“Nein, nein. Mercy! Oh dear! Hilfe! Hilfe!There was no mistaking the voice. They had got Arthur in there, and were robbing him and knocking him about. I might have known it. We were fools ever to have poked our noses into a place like this. We had only ourselves to thank. Drink made me brave. Struggling forward to the door, I pushed it open.The first person I saw was Anni. She was standing in the middle of the room. Arthur cringed on the floor at her feet. He had removed several more of his garments, and was now dressed, lightly but with perfect decency, in a suit of mauve silk underwear, a rubber abdominal belt and a pair of socks. In one hand he held a brush and in the other a yellow shoe-rag. Olga towered behind him, brandishing a heavy leather whip.“You call that clean, you swine!” she cried, in a terrible voice. “Do them again this minute! And if I find a speck of dirt on them I'll thrash you till you can't sit down for a week.”As she spoke she gave Arthur a smart cut across the buttocks. He uttered a squeal of pain and pleasure, and began to brush and polish Anni's boots with feverish haste.“Mercy! Mercy!” Arthur's voice was shrill and gleeful, like a child's when it is shamming. “Stop! You're killing me.”“Killing's too good for you,” retorted Olga, administering another cut. “I'll skin you alive!”“Oh! Oh! Stop! Mercy! Oh!”They were making such a noise that they hadn't heard me bang open the door. Now they saw me, however. My presence did not seem to disconcert any of them in the least. Indeed, it appeared to add spice to Arthur's enjoyment.“Oh dear! William, save me! You won't? You're as cruel as the rest of them. Anni, my love! Olga! Just look how she treats me. Goodness knows what they won't be making me do in a minute!”“Come in, Baby,” cried Olga, with tigerish jocularity. "Just you wait! It's your turn next. I'll make you cry for mummy!"