Not A Name Person

With any foray into a new work environment comes the gentle unraveling of the convoluted idiosyncrasies of every child of God with whom you interact. This year, I've moved to a new school, and it is so much more wonderful than I could've imagined in my old beat-dog place (as long as you don't mind slaving like an oarsman on a Viking longboat... but I guess if I did, I wouldn't have taken this job). With the exception of a few moments of stickiness with the assemblage of custodians over pencil shavings left by the 29, yes TWENTY-NINE, children I'm educating, everyone's been completely cordial. So much so, that it caused me to have to confront one of my own quirks: I'm not a name person.

After about week two, I had met most everyone and remembered virtually no names. In an effort to help me, a charismatic teacher down the hall, by way of showing me how to better learn people's names, used mine every time she saw me:

"Hello, Ari!"
"I know what you mean, Ari!"
"So, Ari, are you settling in?"
"See you at the meeting, Ari."
"How are you today, Ari?"
"Wow, Ari, your classroom looks great!"
"Bye, Ari!"

It was after a few days of this that my perversion revealed itself: I had previously joked with her about being great with faces, but less good with names, and I actually DID remember her name. I picked up on the fact that she was trying to help me out, probably trying to make sure she knew my name, and was hoping I would greet her in the same way, by using her name (Melissa) that I did know.

However, I'm not a person who uses people's names. I dislike mine being used, and I don't tend to say others', unless I'm speaking to a child for a corrective purpose. I'm not sure why this is, it just grates a tiny bit, kind of like people calling me "hon" or "sweetie" used to. My family never did it, I guess, I wasn't ever around it, so I don't do it.

Yet every day, I knew what she was about and why she WAS doing it, and still I refused, and even delighted a tiny measure in NOT doing it, knowing it rankled her a little that I didn't go along with her understated wish to find out if I actually knew her name, not knowing if I was clueless or stubborn.

These are the wrinkles and uglinesses of my being in this world. I delight in messing with people's heads, creating ambiguity for no purpose, and not even I can stop me.

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"Millions of mind guerrillas, puttin' their soul power to the karmic wheel."
- J. Lennon

Men who eat gross things are great!

::tap, tap:: Is this thing on? Ahem.

Men who eat gross things are great!
Watch them lap it off the plate!
Time for oral? Don't be late, 'cause
Men who eat gross things are GREAT!

Though I can't do it myself, I do so appreciate a guy who will wolf down anything set in front of him. It's masculine and sexy, eating any lower lifeform you can get your hands on: raw oysters, sashimi, rare steak, kangaroo... and what not.

The Problem With Organics

toothpastefordinner.com

Preaching the Gospel

"Well, I've lost 2 pounds," the still fat woman said.

"Yeah, but the booze doesn't help," the smoker said.

In recent days, I have come to realize in vivid detail that we, each and every one of us, is preaching our own version of the gospel. Though we never want to listen to anyone else's truth, as they are not us and "don't understand," this doesn't stop us from slathering and blathering our own revealed prophecies to anyone who will listen.

Over and over again it happens - one lady stops another in the grocery store to tout the virtues of St. Ives hand lotion, I overhear someone thinking aloud about their next auto purchase and jump in, shouting emphatically, "Don't buy a Kia. I mean, do what you want, but I have a friend who has one and they're replacing the engine to the tune of $3700.00 less than a year later. Toyota, good. Honda, good." Stepping back later, I was slightly aghast: why did I launch into a diatribe that no one had asked for?

Some of us,


Dennises and otherwise, are revered for our ability to rant, just another word for emphatically shoving our beliefs onto others.

Not to get all preachy on ya, but it all reminds me of that story about the speck and beam.

Well, I sort of am a dog lady already.

Ye gods, this is apt. See more or make your own at GraphJam.

Obama Scales It Back After Denny's Visit

Before you watch this, know two things: 1) I go to Denny's on a semiregular basis (although I like Waffle House more), and 2) I fit many of these descriptions. I still LOL'ed. Hope you do too!



Obama Drastically Scales Back Goals For America After Visiting Denny's

Soulent Green is made from...

Here green, there green, everywhere a green green.

I have nothing against environmentalism; in fact, I was a tie dye shirt making proponent of Earth Day way back in the early '90's.

But if we want to be truly green, to go beyond the continual lip service of everything and everyone from the presidents of nations to the label on the last shampoo bottle or pack of chocolate pudding you purchased, we must become devotees of the ultimate, Supreme Being-sponsored form of recycling: reincarnation.

After all, if a toilet paper tube can be reformed from what's left and made into the parchment upon which the next great American novel is penned or upon which the photographic second coming of eighties fashion is printed, how much more can the gossamer silk of your immortal soul be carefully placed into the reincarnation bin by some cosmically conscious creator, and spun anew into something superficially more or less than it is now, and yet still with a purpose and a place?

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"We all feed the worms and trees, so don't be shy." -- Homme, et. al.