Test the internet-hipster levels of your trick-or-treaters. The cool ones will think that you're oh so cool. The clueless ones (ie - those who have never heard of homestar runner, and by the way, where have you been?) will think you're no odder than that other neighbor who calls the pigeons her "lovelies" and feeds them raw hamburger every day.
http://www.homestarrunner.com/ween_stencils.html
I hab a code. I hade codes. Dey stink.
Actually, it’s not the cold per se that is so awful. Sneezing and coughing are annoying, to be sure (especially when your body wants to hack hack hack in the middle of the night) but the worst part is the temporary suspension of normal synapse firing.
In other words, when I am sick my brain, she no work.
I find myself stopping in the middle of a sentence, wondering (a) what the hell was I talking about and (b) what’s that word for the metal thing on four wheels that you drive to work in? It’s absolutely awful. Last night was the first night of an LSAT class I’m teaching in preparation for the December exam. I’m supposed to be the smart one in the room. I’m supposed to be snazzy and brilliant and funny. While I didn’t do a poor job, let’s just say I wasn’t at my…..wait….what’s that word that’s more than better?
Just take TheraFlu, Lindsey says. It’s fabulous. The injustice of it all is that I can’t take adult cold medicine. For some reason, my body reacts…interestingly to adult-level medications.
Not all medications make me loopy. My body scoffs at Aspirin and Ibuprofen. I could eat those puppies like potato chips and not affect my headaches. I might as well try to empty a swimming pool with a shot glass. Midol is more effective for me than anything. I have just about given up on the aspirin. I will take Midol at the slightest twinge of a headache. I’ll take Midol if I get a particularly nasty hangnail. I love Midol. They should put it in Diet Pepsi and save me a step.
Wait…what was I talking about…ah, yes. Cold medicine.
I discovered my dreaded reaction years ago when I was in high school. I had been selected to go to some Youth Conference thing. The even t had only two clear goals: to let teenagers who thought they were smart discuss sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll, and to give us something that looked quasi-intellectual on our college résumés. The event was held at the Las Vegas Convention Center, a site that hosts the annual porn film festival, Comdex, and, apparently, high school kids with aspirations of joining the debate team. (Not at the same time, although that would have been interesting. Vegas. What a town.)
That morning, I decided to take DayQuil for a rather nasty cold I was fighting. I wanted to be sharp, and I hate the throbbing brain dampening field that a stuffy head creates.
At the convention, 40 or so teenagers (my friend Tom included) were seated in a big ring in one of the convention rooms. We were taking turns arguing about some issue or another (I don’t remember what the issue was. I was three sneezes to the wind). I was busy trying to concentrate on what others were saying, so I decided to look down at the carpet.
That was a bad move.
I don’t know that Vegas has cornered the market on bad carpeting, but it wouldn’t surprise me in the least. Native Las Vegans know well the sort of crazed design work that goes into designing casino carpeting. Apparently, the hoteliers approached a carpet manufacturer and said “We have a few ideas. The carpet must never show dirt of wear. It must hide stains. In fact, we want a human being to be eviscerated whilst standing on the carpet, and his entrails will not stand out substantially from the rest of the design of the carpet.” The carpets that line casino and convention floors are akin to HR Puffenstuff’s vision of the Fourth of July. It’s bad. Really bad. It’s always a very busy, overly colorful print. This was not the pattern I should have been staring at after having taken Dayquil (Now with LSD!) However, since I was pretty dizzy from the cold medicine, I thought it would be a good idea to stare closely at the carpet.
But then I realized it was staring back at me.
I quickly looked away, like we all do when someone catches us staring. I wouldn’t want to make the carpet feel awkward, after all. It’s bad enough having to be walked over all day, but to have someone stare at you is entirely too much.
I decided to stare up at the ceiling instead. It was white with no human-intestine design work, so I thought I was safe.
The ceiling was breathing.
At first I thought that odd, but then I thought to myself: “How often do you stare at ceilings, Jen? They could have been holding their breath all that time, you know.” I can always rely on the intellectual side of my brain to chirp in at the appropriate time. I was watching the ceiling breathe in and out when I felt a nudge at my arm.
I snapped to, and noticed that the entire group was staring at me. Apparently, my turn to respond had come…and gone. I was told later that there was only about 10 seconds of staring involved, but that was 10 seconds too many, as far as I’m concerned.
Other experiences with cold medicines produce the same effect. The world becomes very Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds for about an hour, and then I collapse from exhaustion. The only solution to my predicament is to buy children’s cold remedies, which work well enough for me.
The major downside, however, in buying cold medicine that’s meant for toddlers is that I can’t get in to the #$%ing packaging. They seal the stuff in a titanium alloy. I can’t get in. I have to take the box to the five year-old kid next door and ask him to open it for me.
What was I talking about again?
I'b god a terrible cold ride now. I can'd dreally tock ride dow. By nose is all duffed up and I'b too cranky to post.
I'm formulating a post that was inspired by cold medicine. This ought to be good. Hang on till then.
Took my first big Latin test this morning - I'm pretty sure that I got 100% or darn near it.
I drove across town to get the Crunchmobile looked at by a Geico adjuster. I have to say that I'm impressed with Geico so far. Every person that I have dealt with has been friendly and professional. The Geico estimate for damages was actually higher than the Honda estimate. Interesting.
The only pisser is that they wouldn't hand me the check made out to Kat for the damages. I'll have to ask Kat to call them and vamoose the ol' coche dinero.
Tonight is reserved for tutoring (big surprise) and the final installment of my painting class.
Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to Venetian Plaster I go.
Available for hire: One individual ready to hire, has excellent car fucking up skills. Need a car stolen? Stalled? Towed? Mauled? I’m your woman.
I apparently am a walking car luck dampening field.
Last night while driving home after work, I was involved in a car accident. Yes, that’s right, some guy hit me while I was driving Kat’s car. Let’s all take a minute to let that sink in. Kat’s. Precious. Car. Was. Involved. In. An. Accident. It was one of those unavoidable things; the guy hit the rear of my car after I had passed him on the road. The other guy was totally at fault.
It hurts to look, but here are the pictures 1 2 3.
Here are the good things about the accident, in rough order of goodness:
1.No one was hurt
2.The other guy had insurance
3.The other guy is employed at Caesar’s as a floor supervisor, which means he could afford good insurance
4.The accident happened on a small street, so we were both traveling at low speeds. I’m pretty sure that minimized the damage to both cars
5.The other guy took full responsibility for the accident, and made sure that the cop understood that
6.The guy’s insurance company (Geico) has been very helpful and professional in handling the claim so far
7.The other guy seems to be a nice, decent man, and has offered any help possible in getting the car fixed quickly.
Here are the crappy things about the accident, in rough order of craptacularity:
1.It happened
That is all.
While I was not at fault, and in retrospect, while there was nothing that I as a driver could have done differently to avoid/minimize the accident, I feel tremendous guilt about the whole thing.
Kat was kind enough to lend me her car, and the evil car rain cloud that has been hovering over my head managed to affect her car. I want to do everything I can to fix the car while Kat’s away. I have filed the claim with the insurance company, I will take the car to be inspected by an insurance adjuster, I will wail and complain when they give me the figure, which will not be enough (whatever they quote me). I will take Kat to work in a rickshaw if need be in case her car can’t be repaired by the time she gets back to Vegas. I will peel her grapes and feed them to her on a platter encrusted with diamonds and rubies.
Or I will make sure that Geico rents her a car while her car is in the shop.
So, anyone else want me around to mess up their car? I'm available for Bar/Bat Mitzvahs and birthday parties.
I'm not giving Kat her car back, and that's final.
I love Kat's Honda Accord EX. It's a zippy little car with a 6CD-in-dash changer and 2 dessicated tree fresheners grappled tothe gearshift. There are two stuffed monkeys that stare at me while I shift gears and a trunk FULL of bloggable treasures. (But that's another post).
In other news, the Veep debates are tonight. I will not be able to see all of it, which saddens me. I do, however, love Ann Telnas' (my favorite political cartoonist) comic on the subject.
Enjoy.