Holy shit!
Not long ago I pronounced that I thought the courtroom shenanigans Cindy Sheehan and her followers indulged in recently amounted to nothing other than annoying media manipulation.
Well, the article in The Washington Post that I linked to now has a little box where Technorati informs people which blogs discuss the article. And there I am. Ready to be clicked on.
And my hit counter has picked up.
I have arrived.
Can a job in the halls of power be far behind?
--P.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Poppy the Pokemon
Remember the heights of energy and accomplishment I reached over Thanksgiving break? No?
Well, anyway, yesterday was quite the comedown. (Henh henh ... she said 'come.'")
In fact, you might say that I reverted to total slugdom.
Of course, I have an excuse, people. I had a dentist appointment first thing in the morning, and while I was there, I received three massive shots of novocaine. This deadened all the feeling in my tongue, jaw, and face, and made my lips and tongue swell up, but didn't do all that much to numb the teeth in question.
You Monty Python fans will remember the scene in Holy Grail where they're bringing out their dead and Eric Idle says "I'm not dead yet" and finally John Cleese whacks him over the head. Well, yesterday was like a remake, with my teeth playing the Eric Idle role and Dr. Sadist filling in for John Cleese.
Except it didn't work. The teeth wouldn't die. These were some stubborn nerve endings, people.
Naturally, this really sucked. The easiest way to deal with the torments of extended and insanely expensive dental work is to not feel it going on. At all. As in "This afternoon Poppy's head is being played by a cinder block." As in "You won't feel a thing ... until you get the bill."
But this time I ended up not only feeling certain unpleasant aspects of the work in progress, but also biting my own ginormous tongue while trying--at Dr. Sadist's request--to ascertain whether my jaws were meeting properly when the new, ultra-deluxe and horribly expensive crowns were in place. So then I had to come home and wait for all that novocaine to wear off, wearing, as an extra-kewl fashion statement, a shiny triangular tongue-biting-preventing doohickey.
Hence the illustration of Lickitung, one of the lesser-known Pokemon. This is pretty much what I felt like by the time I got home from John Cleese's I mean Dr. Sadist's office.
So ... what did I do to fill the empty hours while talking, eating, and drinking were pretty much out of the question? Why, shop for Christmas presents, of course!
But because I was an invalid, this year's Christmas shopping involved even less physical effort than usual. And that is saying a lot, as for years I have been the Uncrowned Queen of Internet Shopping.
This is what I did:
1. Grabbed a stack of likely-looking catalogs.
2. Got a pad of Post-It notes.
3. Started paging through catalogs, and when I found something promising, stuck a Post-It note to to the page in question.
Today, my mouth is operational again, so I will start making the calls to order the stuff. (Naturally I've thought about ordering this stuff on-line, but--and I know this will sound heretical--I find that finding it the stuff via a hard copy catalog is faster and easier. It takes less time to flip through a 40 page catalog than to hit different web sites, wait for pages to load, and squint at a tiny picture of the item in question. Also, ordering from a human being can be helpful. Even pleasant. Call me a Luddite, but there you are.)
I expect to be about 80 percent done with my shopping by 9:00 this evening.
Smugly,
--P.
p.s. Anyone who wants to say anything snarky about catalog shopping can just bite his or her tongue. Get it??
Well, anyway, yesterday was quite the comedown. (Henh henh ... she said 'come.'")
In fact, you might say that I reverted to total slugdom.
Of course, I have an excuse, people. I had a dentist appointment first thing in the morning, and while I was there, I received three massive shots of novocaine. This deadened all the feeling in my tongue, jaw, and face, and made my lips and tongue swell up, but didn't do all that much to numb the teeth in question.
You Monty Python fans will remember the scene in Holy Grail where they're bringing out their dead and Eric Idle says "I'm not dead yet" and finally John Cleese whacks him over the head. Well, yesterday was like a remake, with my teeth playing the Eric Idle role and Dr. Sadist filling in for John Cleese.
Except it didn't work. The teeth wouldn't die. These were some stubborn nerve endings, people.
Naturally, this really sucked. The easiest way to deal with the torments of extended and insanely expensive dental work is to not feel it going on. At all. As in "This afternoon Poppy's head is being played by a cinder block." As in "You won't feel a thing ... until you get the bill."
But this time I ended up not only feeling certain unpleasant aspects of the work in progress, but also biting my own ginormous tongue while trying--at Dr. Sadist's request--to ascertain whether my jaws were meeting properly when the new, ultra-deluxe and horribly expensive crowns were in place. So then I had to come home and wait for all that novocaine to wear off, wearing, as an extra-kewl fashion statement, a shiny triangular tongue-biting-preventing doohickey.
Hence the illustration of Lickitung, one of the lesser-known Pokemon. This is pretty much what I felt like by the time I got home from John Cleese's I mean Dr. Sadist's office.
So ... what did I do to fill the empty hours while talking, eating, and drinking were pretty much out of the question? Why, shop for Christmas presents, of course!
But because I was an invalid, this year's Christmas shopping involved even less physical effort than usual. And that is saying a lot, as for years I have been the Uncrowned Queen of Internet Shopping.
This is what I did:
1. Grabbed a stack of likely-looking catalogs.
2. Got a pad of Post-It notes.
3. Started paging through catalogs, and when I found something promising, stuck a Post-It note to to the page in question.
Today, my mouth is operational again, so I will start making the calls to order the stuff. (Naturally I've thought about ordering this stuff on-line, but--and I know this will sound heretical--I find that finding it the stuff via a hard copy catalog is faster and easier. It takes less time to flip through a 40 page catalog than to hit different web sites, wait for pages to load, and squint at a tiny picture of the item in question. Also, ordering from a human being can be helpful. Even pleasant. Call me a Luddite, but there you are.)
I expect to be about 80 percent done with my shopping by 9:00 this evening.
Smugly,
--P.
p.s. Anyone who wants to say anything snarky about catalog shopping can just bite his or her tongue. Get it??
Saturday, November 26, 2005
And if you don't like it, you can just Eff Off.
Stolen from Septuagent:
Your Blogging Type is Cocksure yet Callous |
 You've got a wicked high I.Q., and you work it. What a brilliant blog! Both creative and loony, you come up with amazing ideas and insights. Aren't drugs fabulous? If your supply runs too low or imagination palls, there's always an internet quiz. Or the photoblog option. Rock on with the ugly pictures of your kids! Punctuation is a minor deity for you; you find yourself revising and rewriting posts a lot of the time. Your motto is "Let no nit go unpicked." You blog for yourself - and you don't care how popular (or unpopular) your blog is! You fart in the blogosphere's general direction. |
Friday, November 25, 2005
Thanksgiving update, part II
I love Thanksgiving.
Somebody like Joke, who has listened to my many rants about Thanksgiving, might be surprised to hear this. But it's true.
See, the problem with previous Thanksgivings is that I have always been at someone else's house sitting around while someone else cooks. Sometimes the food was execrable (at my mother's) sometimes it was excellent (at my mother-in-law's), but Thanksgiving meant hours sitting around waiting for a meal. And nothing to do, really, except make small talk and read catalogs.
Well, this year, I had plenty to keep me busy.
We:
flew from Chicago to New Hampshire;
upon our arrival, we discovered that the dining room and kitchens were stuffed with living room furniture because the painter was putting the finishing touches on the trim
because the floor refinisher hadn't finished in time;
see the pretty floor?
and we therefore had to uncover everything and move it back into place, and sweep up a lot of dust;
and shop for a tablecloth big enough to fit the table with all its leaves,
and buy a food processor, toaster, and various other things needed to cook the food,
oh, and buy the food;
and the wine;
then set up the dining room table with the leaves and the table pads and the new tablecloth;
and borrow some candlesticks and a card table from my sister;
and wash towels and sheets to make sure people had clean ones.
Then we had to cook--for meat eaters and vegetarians--
1. Turkey, stuffing, and gravy
2. Sauteed green beans with Parmesan cheese
3. Baked acorn squash
4. Mashed potatoes
5. Penne with a spinach/ricotta/Parmesan sauce
5. Salad of Romaine and Boston lettuces with endive, tomatoes, red onion, crumbled blue cheese, pine nuts and croutons, with a dressing of extra virgin olive oil, balsamic vinegar, mayonnaise, and horseradish
6. Salad of wild rice, toasted pecans, raisins, and green onions, in an olive oil and rice vinegar vinaigrette
7. rolls
also:
8. Two sweet potato pies
9. A Pumpkin pecan bundt cake
10. Whipped cream
My in-laws brought:
11. Apple pie
12. Yellow beet salad
13. Nut loaf
14. Vegetarian gravy
Well. Everything was fabulous.
The furniture store had lost our order for a new sofa (in a shining example of "too little, too late," it showed up today)
so there was a very strange assortment of things to sit on in the living room.
The oven, which had done some bizarre things to the cakes and pies on Wednesday, finished morphing into Robo-Oven, and cooked a 12 pound stuffed turkey in two--as opposed to four--hours.
But:
(They're happy, really. It kind of looks like they're praying. But they're just trying to figure out how many calories are on their plates.)
Everyone got drunk.
We have tons of yummy food left over.
It rocked.
So I guess the answer is--work me hard enough and I'll have a great time.
--P.
Somebody like Joke, who has listened to my many rants about Thanksgiving, might be surprised to hear this. But it's true.
See, the problem with previous Thanksgivings is that I have always been at someone else's house sitting around while someone else cooks. Sometimes the food was execrable (at my mother's) sometimes it was excellent (at my mother-in-law's), but Thanksgiving meant hours sitting around waiting for a meal. And nothing to do, really, except make small talk and read catalogs.
Well, this year, I had plenty to keep me busy.
We:
flew from Chicago to New Hampshire;
upon our arrival, we discovered that the dining room and kitchens were stuffed with living room furniture because the painter was putting the finishing touches on the trim
because the floor refinisher hadn't finished in time;
see the pretty floor?
and we therefore had to uncover everything and move it back into place, and sweep up a lot of dust;
and shop for a tablecloth big enough to fit the table with all its leaves,
and buy a food processor, toaster, and various other things needed to cook the food,oh, and buy the food;
and the wine;
then set up the dining room table with the leaves and the table pads and the new tablecloth;
and borrow some candlesticks and a card table from my sister;
and wash towels and sheets to make sure people had clean ones.
Then we had to cook--for meat eaters and vegetarians--
1. Turkey, stuffing, and gravy
2. Sauteed green beans with Parmesan cheese
3. Baked acorn squash
4. Mashed potatoes
5. Penne with a spinach/ricotta/Parmesan sauce
5. Salad of Romaine and Boston lettuces with endive, tomatoes, red onion, crumbled blue cheese, pine nuts and croutons, with a dressing of extra virgin olive oil, balsamic vinegar, mayonnaise, and horseradish
6. Salad of wild rice, toasted pecans, raisins, and green onions, in an olive oil and rice vinegar vinaigrette
7. rolls
also:
8. Two sweet potato pies
9. A Pumpkin pecan bundt cake
10. Whipped cream
My in-laws brought:
11. Apple pie
12. Yellow beet salad
13. Nut loaf
14. Vegetarian gravy
Well. Everything was fabulous.
The furniture store had lost our order for a new sofa (in a shining example of "too little, too late," it showed up today)
so there was a very strange assortment of things to sit on in the living room.The oven, which had done some bizarre things to the cakes and pies on Wednesday, finished morphing into Robo-Oven, and cooked a 12 pound stuffed turkey in two--as opposed to four--hours.
In other appliance excitement, the little rubber hose that connected the dishwasher to the disposal split clear through while a full load of dishes was running and dumped gallons of hot Cascade-scented water under the sink and all over the kitchen floor.
So that when I realized which sink still worked, I was up until past midnight handwashing the dishes.
So that when I realized which sink still worked, I was up until past midnight handwashing the dishes.
But:
The food was wonderful.
(They're happy, really. It kind of looks like they're praying. But they're just trying to figure out how many calories are on their plates.)
Everyone got drunk.
We have tons of yummy food left over.
It rocked.
So I guess the answer is--work me hard enough and I'll have a great time.
--P.
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Thanksgiving update
I spent most of today cleaning, then cooking a ton of food.
It turns out that the oven here is hotter or more efficient or something, because my sweet potato pies came out kind of toasted-looking. The pumpkin pecan spice cake ended up a bit toasted, too, but also a bit sqashed.
(Who knew that cakes actually fall? I thought that was just in the movies.)
So anyway, it's nine minutes from T-Day, and I'd like to take this opportunity to mention why I'm thankful. I'm thankful that:
1. None of my guests is actually coming here for the food;
2. We are somewhat lacking in furniture, so people won't have anyplace to sit;
3. We stocked up on liquor, adding to an already impressive supply, so with nothing to sit on, I predict that my guests will get falling-down drunk;
and that means they won't remember that I burned the desserts.
--P.
It turns out that the oven here is hotter or more efficient or something, because my sweet potato pies came out kind of toasted-looking. The pumpkin pecan spice cake ended up a bit toasted, too, but also a bit sqashed.
(Who knew that cakes actually fall? I thought that was just in the movies.)
So anyway, it's nine minutes from T-Day, and I'd like to take this opportunity to mention why I'm thankful. I'm thankful that:
1. None of my guests is actually coming here for the food;
2. We are somewhat lacking in furniture, so people won't have anyplace to sit;
3. We stocked up on liquor, adding to an already impressive supply, so with nothing to sit on, I predict that my guests will get falling-down drunk;
and that means they won't remember that I burned the desserts.
--P.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Borrowing Badger's Meme
I'm feeling unimaginative today and I have to pack and get ready to head to New Hampshire for Thanksgiving, where, upon my arrival, I have to start getting ready to feed 14 people Thanksgiving dinner. So I "borrowed" this from Badger.
8 Firsts.
First Best Friend: Debby H., which lasted from kindergarten to fifth grade.
First Kiss: Oh dear, I can't remember his name, and he was my first "boyfriend." I was 12 or 13 and it was at one of those post-dancing school dances where you're supposed to learn how to behave. I'm sure having a 13 year old boy stick his tongue into the mouth of a 13 year old girl WAS NOT AT ALL WHAT THE ORGANIZERS HAD IN MIND, but whatever. For the record, and in case you think I'm some kind of hussy, I didn't enjoy it.
First Screen Name: The first syllable of my real first name. No, not "Pop."
First Pet: Black cat named Winkie who was there my entire life and died when I was 15. Oh, the crying that ensued.
First Piercing: Ears, and I can't remember how old I was. Maybe 13. I did it myself, following the instructions from a chapter of Louisa May Alcott's Eight Cousins. See? I was always a geek.
First Crush: Matthew P. In fourth grade I paid him a quarter to kiss Debby H., which was how the nine-year-old Poppy expressed devotion. No, I don't understand it either.
First CD: Like Badger, I don't remember. My first vinyl was a Partridge Family single, "I Think I Love You," as sung by David Cassidy. I won it at one of those post-dancing school dances. Probably as a punishment for letting a thirteen year old boy put his tongue in my mouth.
First Car: 1993 Saturn SL2, which, coincidentally enough, is currently sitting in my driveway waiting for the charity to tow its completely dead self away.
7 Lasts.
Last alcoholic beverage: A glass of white wine, last night, which I didn't finish.
Last Car Ride: Yesterday, from Chicago to Winnetka.
Last Kiss: This morning when That Stud Muffin I Married left. Poor thing probably got a mouthful of Elizabeth Arden's Eight Hour Cream. Serves him right for trying to slip me the tongue. If he doesn't watch out, Santa is going to put a David Cassidy album in his stocking.
Last Movie Seen: Capote. And what a repellent specimen of humanity he was.
Last Phone Call: Today, from Fiddledeedee. She was trying to talk me into going to yoga class. Shyeah, right! As frocking if.
Last CD played: Disc number 7 from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.
6 Have You Evers.
Have You Ever Dated One Of Your Best Friends: No.
Have You Ever Broken the Law: Yes.
Have You Ever Been Arrested: No.
Have You Ever Skinny Dipped: Yes.
Have You Ever Been in love: Yes.
5 Things.
5 Things You're Wearing: periwinkle cashmere crewneck, jeans, a bra, a pair of underpants and ... nothing. I'm one-fifth naked. Maybe I really am a hussy.
5 Things You Did Yesterday: drank tea, blogged, packed, drove home, watched Three Stooges.
5 Things You Can't Live Without: tea, laptop, son, daughter, Eclipse peppermint chewing gum. Or do you think I should say That Stud Muffin I Married? Well, I was just kidding about the gum, even though it is magically addictive. So here's the real fifth thing: Diet Coke. (Listen, I'm no voyeur. My private life is my business, except when I'm french-kissing on a dance floor. Anyway, he reads my blog. So this will keep him humble. Right, sweetie?)
5 places You've Been: The Max Factor Museum in Los Angeles, St. Mark's Basilica in Venice, inside the Statue of Liberty, the Chapel of St. Chapelle in Paris, Canterbury Cathedral in England.
3 People You Can Tell *Almost* Anything To (in no particular order).
1. That Stud Muffin I Married
2. Joke
3. Best friend number 3, the one who goes from 7th grade to the present.
2 Choices.
1. Black or White: black (white is for nurses and brides.)
2. Hot or Cold: hot (if we're talking about beverages and kisses.)
--P.
8 Firsts.
First Best Friend: Debby H., which lasted from kindergarten to fifth grade.
First Kiss: Oh dear, I can't remember his name, and he was my first "boyfriend." I was 12 or 13 and it was at one of those post-dancing school dances where you're supposed to learn how to behave. I'm sure having a 13 year old boy stick his tongue into the mouth of a 13 year old girl WAS NOT AT ALL WHAT THE ORGANIZERS HAD IN MIND, but whatever. For the record, and in case you think I'm some kind of hussy, I didn't enjoy it.
First Screen Name: The first syllable of my real first name. No, not "Pop."
First Pet: Black cat named Winkie who was there my entire life and died when I was 15. Oh, the crying that ensued.
First Piercing: Ears, and I can't remember how old I was. Maybe 13. I did it myself, following the instructions from a chapter of Louisa May Alcott's Eight Cousins. See? I was always a geek.
First Crush: Matthew P. In fourth grade I paid him a quarter to kiss Debby H., which was how the nine-year-old Poppy expressed devotion. No, I don't understand it either.
First CD: Like Badger, I don't remember. My first vinyl was a Partridge Family single, "I Think I Love You," as sung by David Cassidy. I won it at one of those post-dancing school dances. Probably as a punishment for letting a thirteen year old boy put his tongue in my mouth.
First Car: 1993 Saturn SL2, which, coincidentally enough, is currently sitting in my driveway waiting for the charity to tow its completely dead self away.
7 Lasts.
Last alcoholic beverage: A glass of white wine, last night, which I didn't finish.
Last Car Ride: Yesterday, from Chicago to Winnetka.
Last Kiss: This morning when That Stud Muffin I Married left. Poor thing probably got a mouthful of Elizabeth Arden's Eight Hour Cream. Serves him right for trying to slip me the tongue. If he doesn't watch out, Santa is going to put a David Cassidy album in his stocking.
Last Movie Seen: Capote. And what a repellent specimen of humanity he was.
Last Phone Call: Today, from Fiddledeedee. She was trying to talk me into going to yoga class. Shyeah, right! As frocking if.
Last CD played: Disc number 7 from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.
6 Have You Evers.
Have You Ever Dated One Of Your Best Friends: No.
Have You Ever Broken the Law: Yes.
Have You Ever Been Arrested: No.
Have You Ever Skinny Dipped: Yes.
Have You Ever Been in love: Yes.
5 Things.
5 Things You're Wearing: periwinkle cashmere crewneck, jeans, a bra, a pair of underpants and ... nothing. I'm one-fifth naked. Maybe I really am a hussy.
5 Things You Did Yesterday: drank tea, blogged, packed, drove home, watched Three Stooges.
5 Things You Can't Live Without: tea, laptop, son, daughter, Eclipse peppermint chewing gum. Or do you think I should say That Stud Muffin I Married? Well, I was just kidding about the gum, even though it is magically addictive. So here's the real fifth thing: Diet Coke. (Listen, I'm no voyeur. My private life is my business, except when I'm french-kissing on a dance floor. Anyway, he reads my blog. So this will keep him humble. Right, sweetie?)
5 places You've Been: The Max Factor Museum in Los Angeles, St. Mark's Basilica in Venice, inside the Statue of Liberty, the Chapel of St. Chapelle in Paris, Canterbury Cathedral in England.
3 People You Can Tell *Almost* Anything To (in no particular order).
1. That Stud Muffin I Married
2. Joke
3. Best friend number 3, the one who goes from 7th grade to the present.
2 Choices.
1. Black or White: black (white is for nurses and brides.)
2. Hot or Cold: hot (if we're talking about beverages and kisses.)
--P.
Sunday, November 20, 2005
Just say no to Cindy Sheehan.
Sorry, Cindy. I don't need your help. You don't need to add your voice to the chorus of anti-war opinions. You really don't. I'm as much of a leftie-bolshie peacenik bleeding heart Democratic-voting Massachusetts liberal as you can get.* Therefore, as everyone knows, I'm perfectly capable of looking like a fool all by myself.
I mean, can't you just see me--after singing a heart-felt rendition of "Blowing in the Wind" in my Joan Baez-like soprano--out there putting daisies down the barrels of the National Guardsmen's rifles?
So Cindy, you and your crazed fan-girls and boys singing "We Shall Overcome" and speechifying from the witness stand when you're on trial for protesting in front of the White House without a permit? Can just shut up and go away.
This is cold, hard, premeditated media manipulation. It's right up there with the Commander in Chief of the U.S. armed forces donning a flight suit to announce that the United States of America has successfully liberated Iraq. And it pisses me off.
Not to mention that there are probably millions of conservatives out there pointing at the evening news and saying "See? SEE? I told you those liberal dumbasses were full of shit!"
--P.
*Except for the fact that I don't like many of the Kennedys. But don't tell them, OK? They'd be so hurt.
I mean, can't you just see me--after singing a heart-felt rendition of "Blowing in the Wind" in my Joan Baez-like soprano--out there putting daisies down the barrels of the National Guardsmen's rifles?
So Cindy, you and your crazed fan-girls and boys singing "We Shall Overcome" and speechifying from the witness stand when you're on trial for protesting in front of the White House without a permit? Can just shut up and go away.
This is cold, hard, premeditated media manipulation. It's right up there with the Commander in Chief of the U.S. armed forces donning a flight suit to announce that the United States of America has successfully liberated Iraq. And it pisses me off.
Not to mention that there are probably millions of conservatives out there pointing at the evening news and saying "See? SEE? I told you those liberal dumbasses were full of shit!"
--P.
*Except for the fact that I don't like many of the Kennedys. But don't tell them, OK? They'd be so hurt.
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