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And, we're off... [Jan. 11th, 2012|04:43 pm]
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The good news, the fingertip is healing nicely (and for the record, it wasn’t the ScoldFinger, although I’m thinking that a chewed off fingertip might’ve added some street cred). It may even be completely unnoticeable, once the nail grows back. Testament to how rapidly your fingertip cells multiply, as opposed to the cells on the inside of your forearm. (Ahem. Yes, I’m talking to YOU, Forearm Scratch that I don’t even remember getting, but after five weeks still looks like a mountain lion attacked me.)

The bad news, I’m an expletivenut, got cocky and in the interests of being able to type properly, didn’t bandage it up today. Which was FINE until fifteen minutes ago when I SLAMMED it into an upright folder divider and all of those brand new baby ultra-sensitive nerve endings are so OUTRAGED that I am hunt and peck typing this. A little easier since I sharpied the letters back on the keyboard.

Although still a pain in the patoot to type, so that was as far as I got with writing last night. Aaaaand, did I remember to bandage it today? No. Am I out of bandaids here at work? Yes. Did I remember to grab bandaids, or bandage the finger when I had to run home to accept delivery of my new coffee table earlier this morning? Of course not.

Par for the week, my friends, par for the week. Monday I set my alarm for 5pm, instead of 5am (one of the reasons why I get up at the same time every morning, no matter what, is to minimize my odds of expletiving up the alarm time) was late into work…not that it really matters to anyone here, but it puts me mentally behind all day long. And I froze all day long. I love being near a window, but being near this giant poorly insulated window does mean that I’m a bit more at the mercies of the weather. Oh, and left my phone at home, which for once, I really had to have with me, since I was coordinating several deliveries and faire activities. So I got to spend my lunch break going home and fetching it.

So, Tuesday, I was determined to do better. Checked the alarm a half dozen times. Dressed warmly when I got up – long sleeve shirt, long sleeve jacket, tights and fingerless gloves! Left on time! Aaaaaand, forgot my purse. So, turning back home, fetching, so much for getting in early. Oh, and they cranked up the heat at work, so I sweated all day.

Today….we’re only half-way, so I’m not tempting fate. Beyond failing to bandage my tender digit. And, I did impale the side of my thumb on a pair of scissors in my desk drawer. Other hand. It must have been feeling neglected.

Oh, and I had to go down to Human Resources to turn in paperwork, and as I passed by someone’s cube, she headed out of her cube at the same time. As she was coming out, she tripped over her trash can (my sister!) and sort of yelped and fell into my path. Which made me yelp. Because you always want to make a SCENE when you’re in HR. And then I had to make it worse. As we were laughing about it, with all of the people who’d prairie dogged to see what the fuss was, I said “Honey, if you’re looking to off yourself, I’d suggest throwing yourself in front of a train or a fast moving vehicle. I’m just going to trample you a bit.” Because when you’re down in HR, you always want to make jokes about suicide.

But here – I spent most of today waiting on other people to get stuff to me, fix data, come on conference calls…plus, they’re working on our firewalls so all of the web-crawly research I had to do today…was like doing it via dial-up. Remember that? Oh, I bet you don’t. I bet if I came over to your house and hooked you up to dial-up, I’d come back in the morning and there would be blood spatter and random clumps of hair from you whacking your head into walls and cabinets. (Or is that just me projecting?) Since they tend to frown on blood spatter here (I don’t know about hair clumps…but I’m going to go out on a limb and assume: YES) instead I retreated to this document and all of the flotsam and jetsam that I’ve had stored up, but haven’t written about.

They had reports of possible snow flurries, with possible accumulation in Seattle and one mid-westerner transplanted there, and whose blog I follow, joked about running out to get water, beans and ammo. Hmm, here it’s bread, milk and toilet paper. Looking at comments on the blog, the east coast’s bread, milk and toilet paper turns to eggs, milk and bread as you move into Pennsylvania, Alabama and Tennessee…there is a research paper topic in here….

Yo, geeks, Williams-Sonoma has Star Wars baking accessories on sale.

Filed under “I had no idea and that’s probably just as well because I would have had an embolism”: Did you have any idea how little the official definition of rape covered? Basically you have to be a female to be raped and it has to be male penetration in order to count. So, if someone rapes you with an object, or you are a man/boy, you haven’t been counted. http://www.patheos.com/blogs/friendlyatheist/2012/01/11/finally-the-definition-of-rape-gets-an-update/
If you’re all TL; DR on me and wonder what the big deal is – funding to fight crime is based on statistics. So, accurate numbers are a big deal. Plus – it’s hard enough to be a victim of sexual assault. To not be counted…sucks. However you feel about the Obama administration, they got this one right.

You might find it disorienting now when I go from being outraged about rape to musings on a naked, or semi-naked guy, but try living inside my head. It’s like riding the Tilt-a-Whirl with your giant half-cousin JimmyBob, who’s twice your size and has completely mastered the timing and physics of not just spinning the damn thing, but also of knowing exactly when you’ve adjusted to the spin, so that he can throw his 240 pounds of inbred linebacker in the other direction.

That’s enough of a segue, right?

Actually, it’s not completely about a semi-naked man, it’s about the fallacies of memory – but I admire her hook, and her point. And having just spent last night watching True Blood (oh, don’t worry, I also cleaned the kitchen, wrote thank-you notes, and did three loads of laundry – I was only a little bit of a slacker), drinking half a bottle of extra-effervescent white Vinho Verde (petillance is one thing, but when I unscrewed the bottle the cap damn near took my eye out…but I drank it anyway and it was pretty good, if not authentic), and musing on whether I’m actually attracted to Alexander Skarsgard, or whether it’s just my Nordic genes gasping one last time before I’m completely out of eggs, so naturally I was drawn to the post.

Speaking of genes, in an odd twist of synchronicity: I’ve been reading Stephen Fry’s most recent book about traveling through all fifty states. It’s to accompany the show, but I haven’t had time to see it yet. Been loving the book – which has given me several topics to write on, that I just haven’t had the time, nor fingertips to deal with. But while travelling in Bismark, North Dakota, an area known for its German-American population, he went to Kroll’s Diner. Thanks to that lying Diego, I’d been pondering the origins of the ScoldFinger, since I don’t remember my mother or either grandmother wielding one. But take a look at some of the Kroll’s commercials posted on their website, especially the “French” one, which, barring the accents, had the rhythms and facial expressions of home. And of course, the tagline for each commercial…yeah, ScoldFinger is clearly a German legacy: http://www.sitdownandeat.com/

Awww, and now I want spaetzle and rotkohl....

[User Picture]From: kiltboy
2012-01-12 01:05 am (UTC)
I do so love when you go off on something. Kinda makes getting out of bed in the morning worth all the headaches, as long as I get to read something good.
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[User Picture]From: ferlonda
2012-01-16 07:30 am (UTC)
I'm all breathless from giggling. Thank you!
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