Overthunk

"How many do you have?" the my-age, appropriately "thick" Avenue salesclerk inquired as I strode toward the precious dressing room, bundle of possible vestments held close to my bosom. Sure, it was late and the store was quiet and they were doing their closing activities, but they didn't actually close for an hour. "Six," I replied. "The limit is four," she said. ("Hmph. Industry standard is six. Y'all can't count higher than that?" I thought to myself.) I tried to just put 2 on the back of the door so I could swap them and not go looking for her again. She seized them away and put them on an unrelated rack an inconvenient distance away. I finished the trying ons, the selectings and rejectings, and had to go hunt her down again to find where the other two garments were. She was none too eager or swift to assist me. In the passing between however, a bait and switch occurred. She gave me the two shirts I still needed to try on...

As I'm yet aboard the dating train (Weird. A snippet from Billy Joel's "Piano Man" -- "and probably will be for life" -- just came into my head. Tsk, tsk, that's not positive thinking!), I'm still conducting and being observed through a series of bizarre interviews (a.k.a. online profiles, messaging, phone conversations, and meetups). Recently, I've given some of my prospective partner candidates the address of my blog, and even, horror of horrors, my Twitta . Some seemed to enjoy it, but in some, it produced intimidation. When I whined about this to some friends, they claimed similar experiences. Do men need a woman who's not quite as smart or less independent than they are to feel good about themselves? Maybe some do. If that's so, this blog serves as a double-edged sword, slicing some out of the equation. It just underscores what I've said before: writing both validates and betrays me. It allows me to show crystalline facets of wh...

If you do, FORGET ABOUT "SMOKE ON THE WATER" and soak THIS up.

The dream realm, which I sometimes refer to as The Marches , has produced some interesting storylines lately. Last night, I returned (Yes, returned.... do you ever go back to particular worlds, scenarios or lands in your nightly travels? 'Cause I do.) to some kind of a building with a staircase that went up probably nine or ten floors. The interesting thing about the staircase though, was that it had branches that went in different directions, dead ends, and switchbacks of a sort, so you never really knew, even if you traipsed up and down, exactly where you would end up. Unlike most stairways - lonely, drafty, and used only as a last resort when the elevator's broken or calories grudgingly need to be burned - this stairway was packed with people. If you took a random sampling of hundreds of people at some kind of huge celebratory event, like a St. Patrick's Day parade in Boston, or Mardi Gras, and put them on this stairway, that's what it would be: mostly young hipster ...

Recently I was at a technological staff development session, which is a fancy name for teachers being taught. In our day, teachers were sage repositories into which we inserted a coin marked with our name, grade and age and received a preformulated serving of knowledge, encapsulated in a cylindrical package. We were to drink of this can, forged of the strong steel of tradition, stamped with dates and vitamins and things that were surely good for us. Some of us drank this draught deeply and wanted more, some played with the can so it got dented, some spilled it entirely, and if you did, you were out of luck. It was your fault you flunked, even if you were allergic to the contents of the can, even if it was spoiled, even if you couldn’t bear the taste. Nowadays, teaching isn’t about what the teacher is presenting, but about what the students learn. It doesn’t matter if your lesson is phenomenal, if no one you’re teaching understands it. Instead of a processed beverage of knowledge, toda...

A paragon of goth is lost. R.I.P Peter. :(

Time was, we used to game* for days. There was a flophouse apartment, of near the lowest ilk, with a blue mix of shag mess on the floor. It had two floors, and there were beds strewn about. We all worked at crap jobs , and made things like Magic Cookie Bars to share whilst running down kobolds or evil shadow dragons or the like. Concomitant with this gaming and flopping were the presence of many an oddball. My GM** is the bestest in the world, so she attracted itinerant gamer types. One such fellow traveler was a guy named George, a portly, blonde and bearded soul who clearly was operating a few notches below fourth gear in the old brain box department. He wasn't mentally disabled, so much as just slower than most. So one day we're sitting around between battles and such, and he whips out an acoustic guitar. "Oh," I think. "Maybe we're going to see where his genius lies." So he starts strumming, saying he's going to play a song he wrote. I agree to ...

You just can't. And if you do, they will hate you for it. -------------------- p.s. Blogposts that are less than 140 characters should've been a tweet.

pretty shitty this week but I'm alive Oh dear What happened? omg do you really want to know the whole string of events? haha it's nuts one of my student's mom passed away my heating and a/c broke, was fixed, broke again and is now fixed again (yay for that one) I got sick went to the dr for that oh yuch had to take my dog to the vet, the vet got sick, so had to reschedule, go in today to find out my pug has lost his sight completely, no idea why,doing blood work, probably not going to regain anddddd i had a huge filling pop out while I was flossing in the car and spent all day yesterday getting a root canal you can't make this shit up Nope Never rains but it pours Are you still sick? getting better today I was taking vicodin for tooth pain but it made me so nauseous I actually barfed so off that but tooth isnt that bad hurting so that's good! all this mess has cost like $1000 so far nods thankfully, next week is spring break you'll need that to recover right on ...

Your result for The Quick & Painless ENNEAGRAM Test... 7 - the Adventurer Thanks for taking the test ! you chose AX - your Enneagram type is SEVEN (aka "The Enthusiast"). "I am happy and open to new things" Adventurers are energetic, lively, and optimistic. They want to contribute to the world. How to Get Along with Me • Give me companionship, affection, and freedom. • Engage with me in stimulating conversation and laughter. • Appreciate my grand visions and listen to my stories. • Don't try to change my style. Accept me the way I am. • Be responsible for youself. I dislike clingy or needy people. • Don't tell me what to do. What I Like About Being a SEVEN • being optimistic and not letting life's troubles get me down • being spontaneous and free-spirited • being outspoken and outrageous. It's part of the fun. • being generous and trying to make the world a better place • having the guts to take risks and to try exciting adventures • having s...

Your result for The 3 Variable Funny Test... the Wit (52% dark, 15% spontaneous, 26% vulgar) your humor style: CLEAN | COMPLEX | DARK You like things edgy, subtle, and smart. I guess that means you're probably an intellectual, but don't take that to mean pretentious. You realize 'dumb' can be witty--after all isn't that the Simpsons' philosophy?--but rudeness for its own sake, 'gross-out' humor and most other things found in a fraternity leave you totally flat. I guess you just have a more cerebral approach than most. You have the perfect mindset for a joke writer or staff writer. Your sense of humor takes the most thought to appreciate, but it's also the best, in my opinion. You probably loved the Office . If you don't know what I'm talking about, check it out here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/theoffice/ . PEOPLE LIKE YOU: Jon Stewart - Woody Allen - Ricky Gervais The 3-Variable Funny Test! - it rules - Take The 3 Variable Funny Test ...

I was reading this morning in a newly arrived issue of Glamour , which I never ordered but which replaced the dear departed Domino , where Wendy Williams (a member of the growing number of People Who I Don't Know Who They Are, as opposed to Wendy O. Williams , who I do know who was) advises us to, "Believe in the sisterhood," i.e. not all other women want your man, job, etc. I very much enjoy being a girl, do not mistake me, but I've never been a joiner or a sorority member. Nor do I believe that all other women want what I have. I'm capable of being catty and snarky, but not so much that I have to urge myself to stop doing so and subscribe to some credo of togetherness. So the only slogan I can offer is this: The sisterhood: blood and holes unite us. ---------------- "I got all my sisters and me." -- Sister Sledge (but ironically composed by TWO DUDES, Bernard Edwards and Nile Rodgers!!)

I get them done all over town. I don't just have one person I rely on. I traverse the entire city every work day, so when I need my eyebrows waxed, I just stop whereever I'm closest. So today I go to my local place and the lady who works there, after shoving the remainder of some cabbage-based delicacy (I know because I could smell it on her hands) (and the weird thing is, I ate a cabbage-based delicacy for dinner later on) into her mouth, came out from the back. "Just eyebrows," I cheerfully informed her. She looked me over, made some conversation, asked me if I was off today, and doing errands, and then I found out why her eyes were narrowed a bit as she spoke to me. "It's been a long time," she said. "Yes, it has," I said. Was I cheating on my local eyebrow waxing lady? Because I think she thought I was. If nothing else, it explains why her cleanup tweezing is so damn painful. ---------------------- "Sorry, Ms. Jackson." -- Outkas...