Facebook Post #1

Ive decided I need to start archiving favorite Facebook posts both from other people and my own.

Poem:

A capella, young fella, I'll tell ya is the best sound evah, on the mic like the bank tella, tell me I'm clevah, and stellah, like stars in the sky and I'm yours forevah.

Pet Names (warning: this is a total rant)

What's up with the pet names, guys? I'm not your baby. I'm not your darling. Believe me, you would know it if I were.

But oh wait, your ego has grown like a tumor over your retinas so you're not really seeing the disdain all over my face.

If you wish to infuriate me, by all means begin a conversation like this "Stick to romance, darling." Um, why don't you just give me a good slap on the hind quarters while you're at it. Is my hair in a bob? Is this the year 1923? Is your name Mugsy St. Germaine? Because my name is not "darling." It's not even remotely close to such an invitingly stupid sobriquet.

If I look like an idiot and you feel the need to speak to me with condescension, why don't you just try being the bigger person and walk away? Risking sounding like the ultimate hater, it must be said that I don't particularly associate with people I think are stupid because they irritate me, and because even if I think they have little to offer intellectually, I don't want to be MEAN to them. Better to walk away and leave them with the dignity they have as a human being.

This is not to say that I cannot be won over, nor that I refuse to be. I don't resist on purpose because I don't have to. Most men dig their own graves much more quickly than I ever could. Be aware that even if you do manage to spark my undivided attention, the flame can be doused as surely as it was lit by giving off the impression you doubt my mental capacity.

The next time you think it's ok to speak to a woman like she's a piece of chocolate cake, be aware the frosting may be laced with arsenic. We only serve the real thing when presented with a proper guest.

I sing for my chicken.

I think maybe in a previous life I was a freestyle rapper or a Disney Princess. Probably Sleeping Beauty. Yes, because I really feel like the world would be amazing and better if we periodically burst into song and poetry. Canes Chicken establishments have already taken steps to make this dream a reality. Instead of the mundane, "Can I take your order?" or "May I help you?" or "Would you like to try one of our new Angus Beef burgers?" Cane's employees break it DOWN: "Finger lickin' chicken, what combo you pickin?" So fun. I love them so much. What an easy, clever way to inspire real appreciation. I want to buy Canes' Chicken because they offer it so creatively. Next time I go, I'm responding accordingly:
"Hey, hey, hey, my mind's been a wishin,' the three finger combo's the one that I'm pickin!'" And what to drink? My combo'd go grand with a diet coke-and wash my fries down and keep me from chokin'."

I'm really certain so many people would be happier if they could always order things in verse or song form. It just makes it less like an order and more like a request to a dear friend. And everyone could get really excited about simple things and hopefully start dancing in the middle of the work day in unison, and then everyone would get free chicken at the end of the song.


Ok, so that's my nerd fantasy of the day. Realistically speaking, I think the Canes' employee phenomenon is a testament to how Americans can and should take steps to making the workplace happier in general. We should not spend our average of 60 hours a week hating life. Everyone has to work, so let's enjoy it a little more. Make up a limerick about your coworker, or a Haiku. He or she will love you.

How to lose weight surely and rapidly

1. Have your boyfriend break up with you suddenly and preferably over a text message.
2. Get the flu

I hate dieting and I dread even thinking about the day when my metabolism will slow down so much that I won't be able to eat fast food whenever I want--not that I really ever eat fast food--or go out to watch the Saints game and down an entire order of loaded potato cheese fries and hamburger AND three beers. Actually, if I didn't dance three or four days a week or let depression effect my eating habits I would probably have to worry about that kind of food intake now. But back to the point: the great thing about the depression/illness method is that you often don't realize you're not eating and also can tend to exercise more often if only to keep from thinking about the thing that is making you depressed. Perfect, huh? I mean, the worst part of dieting is actually knowing that you're dieting because you are thinking about all the food you wish you could be eating but now can't eat. If you're not hungry, then you don't feel like you're missing out out on anything. In fact, you're forcing yourself to consume that tuna sandwich because you have to sustain yourself somehow.


I didn't say these were nice ways, I said they were "sure" and "rapid" ways to shed pounds. I wouldn't necessarily recommend it, but it's a perk to keep in mind if ever you find yourself ill or depressed within an inch of your life.

you know what?!

I got told by two people yesterday that I think too much, and all of my conversations are too deep. Well, people, it's posted on my blog. Did you see the cartoon?! I'm fully aware of this problem. I can't help it if I'm bored talking about nothing in particular unless you're just really funny.

I frequently refer back to the the two topics more suited to small talk the weather and everyone's help. Man, did the Hurricane make that SO much more interesting. (P.S. If you're reading this and you're not from Louisiana, the hurricane is always Hurricane Katrina.) It's kind of like "the drawer" because it's the only one that matters. Of course, please understand I don't want to sound like horrific natural disasters are somehow positive because they keep our small talk nice and interesting. I'm not that morbid, ok? GOSH.

Everyone's health is really only good for either changing the subject or for giving someone an jumping point for their story. No one really cares about how anyone is actually doing. You're either stressed (aren't we all?) , tired, good, fine, hangin' in there...I mostly try to get the other person to do the small talking because I'm sure that I will bore him or her do death, or worse, present myself as incredibly awkward and ridiculous as my close friends know me to be.

Y'all are right. I think too much.But I'm so bored and stuck chained behind the desk. What else can I do but sit around and over analyze? Really now!

T.o.E the sequel

Terms of endearment: the sequel, that is.
I have a friend who used to be my personal trainer who comes to visit me at the desk every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning. He has at least two nicknames for me: Snuggie, because, so he says, I look like someone who would own a snuggie and love it and take it everywhere! Nay! I would attempt to say, and inadvertently confirm his suspicions be saying the words "nay" and later writing the word "inadvertently." He's also sure that I will one day own a litter of cats named horrible things like muffin, or cookies, or nippy.

What a future.

His other favorite nickname for me is "home school" because I'm just so sheltered. *shudder* However, I'm sort of glad it's home school and not something like "home fry" because ew, I don't want to be compared to a fried potato. Then again, people kind of like home fries. Most people think home school is weird. Kind of like reliving Little House on the Prairie except we don't live on the prairie anymore. But you know what, NO! I won't have this bashing of Home school because some of the nicest people I know were home schooled--with the exception of this one family that was scary, but WHATEVER! Um...yeah!!!... I think I may have dug the grave a little deeper. Let me just lie in it.

Terms of Endearment

I was just thinking how comfortable it makes me when people refer to their loved ones as "the boy" or "the man", or "girl." Let's call this phenomenon a practice of minimalist terms of endearment. It's like that person is so important in your life that you don't even need a name for everyone to know who you're talking about. We had this in my household growing up, except it also filtered down to objects and areas. We had, "the drawer," which always meant the top drawer second from the right on the right of the island, because it was THE drawer, the catch-all, containing everything from paper clips, to my dad's passport, car keys, an pieces of Dove chocolate. (Later, it must be noted, we created a drawer exclusively for chocolate. We also called that "the drawer.") We also had "the house" or "next door" which referred of course to the house across the stream on the other half of our acre and a half of property. Ok, makes sense, but it was highly entertaining when you're at someone else's house far away and still referring to your own house as "next door."
Terms of endearment, you know? They're awesome.

I don't want to be diluted Grape KoolAid.

Last Wednesday I joined a band without realizing I had joined a band. I realized it yesterday at practice for...a gig that is no longer happening... when the band leader started including me in a discussion about another member he's thinking about kicking out because she's not committed enough. WHOA THERE! I'm pretty sure I'm the one with the least amount of commitment in this outfit. I thought I was just being brought in for one or two things but nothing long term. Granted, I will admit that all of this confusion is not at least partly my own fault, just not paying attention, being tired, etc...Whatever, I'm an ARTISTE. I can't be blamed for my irresponsibility for my own...er...flightyness?
Bahhhh! But either way, in the middle of the practice I ended up leaving "early" after 2 hours (geez!), I started planning my escape. The leader is definitely pushy and excited about this band. I completely understand. He should be. But unfortunately, my candle has been burned on both ends and quite a few places in the middle. I'm becoming like a piece of dough that has been stretched to the point of breakage, or KoolAid that has been dissolved in too much water. Yeah that's me with a band commitment, diluted grape KoolAid.
Everyone loves Grap KoolAid until it becomes just sugar, hint of dimatap and Children's tylenol, gross water.
I don't think so, Tim. I don't think so.


oh P.S. I just had a horrible relation that I may be a transition-girl/ therapist for a number of people who have been in my life. I'm going to have to start charging for this services. Just saying.

Words to throw down in everyday conversation:

Forget name dropping! Throw out a nice Yiddish word every now and again to really impress your friends:

"I swear, that boy's got some chutzpah jumping in during the adult swim."

"When she won the Young Miss Surpreme title, I was so happy I could've just plotzed! Seriously, my cheek implants almost came through my skin! The naches was overwhelming.

"He just schleps downstairs, grabs a beer and sits in his man-cave every day. I think I'll try surprising him one wrapped in cellophane."

Oh, the joys of the JCC. If you're going to whine, whine in Yiddish sayings so I can at least pretend like I'm a guest actor on "The Nanny."

Stumbling Across Virtue Ethics

While browsing my blogs and recapping the story NPR ran this morning on the Congressional ethics--does it exist?! I came across a site called PEA soup which had an interesting piece on Virtue Ethics---

"Richard Sylvan's Last Man thought experiment: You know that you are the last sentient being who will ever exist on earth. Beside you is a giant old redwood (or the Mona Lisa or whatnot). You could destroy it for no reason. Would it be wrong to? Some people try to argue that it would be wrong, but another take (defended by Tom Hill, Jr.) is that it would be show bad character, but not strictly speaking be wrong."

I think this calls into question the inherent value in any given object--Does the mona lisa hold an inherent value that has not been granted by human beings? Does any object for that matter, somehow "shelter" or house a goodness or value that could be violated even by the last person on earth? If so, then what does this mean about the "virtue" of objects, art, people extant in the present world? If it would be wrong to destroy the mona lisa after everyone who would view it were somehow extinguished, then is it more wrong to destroy presently? Is it more wrong? Maybe it's not a question of it being more or less wrong, but maybe a question of impact. Is it less wrong to kill a man with no family than a man with a wife and kids. No, because to say so would violate the inherent value in the person, though the action of killing the man with a family has a greater immediate impact on his environment.
Anyway, food for thought.

No one should be forced to smile before Coffee

No one should be forced to smile before coffee because it's an action that is contrary to physical readiness at certain points in time. Do you know how many muscles you use to smile? Check out mr. man to the left. That's insanity. Think about how hard it is to move your legs in the morning after you've been lying down for5-8 hours. By the way, only 8 muscles are used in walking as opposed to 17 in your smile. Ok. So my science may be flimsy, but the point is no one expects anyone to get up and just start running to the best of their ability--not at least without a little adrenaline, a little fight or flight response, or something. Most of us, I suppose, choose something a little less heart-attacky/snake-dropped-at-my-feet fearfulness like coffee. If you haven't noticed after reading various past posts, I need coffee to survive my days on this earth. You know, sometimes I wish that I could just get rid of the habit, but I just can't; and more importantly, I don't want to. I would like to advocate the abolition of a workplace requirement to smile unless coffee be supplied upon arrival. Geez, look at that guy in the picture. Yeah, he looks like he needs a little Red Bull, li'l Pj's iced mocha to pull himself together.


awwww.

Two weeks passed so quickly

Last night when I was dropping off my friend at her house after picking her up from the airport, I had this strange sensation that it was morning. Then I realized, I'd been up before the sun almost every day for 14 days straight and my body must be confused, like a diver that swims deeper instead of going to the surface because he's lost track of where "up" is.
Of course, I haven't quite reached the level of insanity evident one day a little over a year ago when I woke up, got dressed and left my house at 12:30am thinking it was time to go to work. I didn't think to look at the clock in my car until I saw a cab dropping off a very, very drunk person. Wow, he's out late, I thought. No, Dorian, you have hallucinated 5:30am.

ANYWAY
Yeah, I went to Boston two weekends ago and Virginia this past weekend so the days in between have been insanely busy so I haven't gotten a chance to share all kinds of fun revelations...Of course now I can't think of most of them but I will say that Boston was amazing. I gave myself a walking tour, which was fantastic and quite physically rewarding. I hope to move there next fall and thus be forced to buy real winter clothing for the first time ever. And boots-- because it really doesn't make sense to have anything but rain boots in New Orleans because it's cold enough to wear boots about a week out of the year in total.

Fun memories of Boston:
NUMBER 1: Drawing excessive attention to myself at BC by falling down the stairs on campus in between the library and the Philosophy department building. Nice.

2. Begin recognized while riding on the T rail by someone who attended the same Friday night lecture as I did.

3. Paying 7 dollars for a pint of Blue Moon. Whoops.

4. Being asked for directions at least twice as often as being offered directions. Point for blending in!

5. Falling in love with Harvard Square and the book store and the number of men in oxford cloth shirts looking all serious and studious. Aww, y'all are so hard core.

6. Being conscious of the number of times I say "y'all." Whatever, it's the smoothest way to refer to a group of people in the second person. And I'm sure my future Bostonian friends will love me for it. ;)

Some Favorite things I've learned (includes use of the word "ragamuffin")

1. Beetles and june bugs and other round fliers hit themselves against walls and panes of glass over and over again because they are compelled to fly in a complete circle around any given light. If the light just so happens to be attached to a wall, well...hello, exoskeleton injury.

2. Fantasy Football is actually a stats game to which entire magazines and websites are dedicated. I definitely imagined a virtual reality game where your helmet was the controller with awesome video feed inside.

3. Shaving cream may leave a stain on your door in the shape of a smiley face over the course of 15 years give or take if you use it to draw a smiley face on your cousins' bedroom door. Margarine also leaves a stain on your walls for at least 17 years.

4. Doing a handstand in your living room sometimes does involve crashing into a glass table. ARG. Your parents were right again.

5. Without a doubt, you will always run into the most people you know when you are dressed like a ragamuffin.

6. No on ever uses the word ragamuffin anymore. I'm resurrecting it.

7. Is it wrong that I always imagined a short squatty child with rags tossed haphazardly in and around her overalls.... and a blueberry muffin when using the word ragamuffin?

8. The Little Match Girl is the world's most depressing movie. Why did I see it at the age of 7? I suppose it's never to early for parents to start teaching social awareness...or maybe it was a sneaky way of getting my sister and me to stop whining. "See? You could be dying in the cold like the little match girl." I don't have a complex or anything about that.

9. Complexes come in boxes of at least a bakers dozen.

10. A loooot of people don't know what a baker's dozen is. It's 13, ok people?!

Avuncular

of or relating to an uncle; suggestive of an uncle in kindliness or geniality.

I have just encountered someone who embodies the exact OPPOSITE of this word. He complains about my demeanor, but every day he comes and plops his enormous bag right in my face at the desk while he finds his card---because it's not possible to pull your card out before you get inside right?---doesn't respond when I say "good morning", in fact, averts his eyes. You know what, dude, maybe everyone is just afraid you might murder us in our sleep and therefore would rather be safe by having as little interaction as possible. And he says I'm scowling??? Maybe someone held up a mirror and it scared him and made him have a bad day.

Alas.

haircut

So, I got my hair cut and I'm afraid it may look a little like Murphy Brown this morning. That, or I look like the 12 year old Nancy Drew... My straightener died and my attempt to look like an edged-out Emo has been thwarted by my unruly, quasi wavy hair. ARG!