Now that Alisa has moved 2 1/2 hours north, our house has become the default gathering place for the “family.” Earlier this evening, I was chatting with one of the lovely people with whom I’m proud to choose to be related.
Me: So, the next family dinner will be [date/time].
Her: Let me know if I can I bring anything?
Me: You could bring [new boyfriend].
Because, as she’s said before, we’re the real in-laws.
I’ve said before that I ended up in the Grammar Police because I couldn’t qualify for the Fashion Police. Well, screw that. I’m going to overstep my mandate and declare that the latest, greatest look is the Katrina-inspired “drowned rat.” The wetter, the better, darling, and let me assure you that I look fabulous.
It’s true what they say about lying down with dogs.
It seems that our feline guest, who is indeed known to lie down with dogs when he’s at home, had fleas. Furthermore, he neglected to take them all with him when he went home.
Fortunately, low-grade chemical weapons are readily available at the pet store. We didn’t even need a permit or a U.N. inspection, and as far as I can tell, the Marines aren’t about to come in and overthrow my tyrannical rule. And just for the record, as far as I can tell, none of the fleas were Kurdish.
But I digress.
Ed set off our WMDs this morning as he left the house for work. I came home and aired the house—fortunately the weather’s a little better, although ten degrees cooler and a lot less humid would be nice. So far, I haven’t found any mass flea graves. On the other hand, I haven’t found any live fleas, either. A dedicated run with the vacuum cleaner should prove interesting, though.
I think we’ve gotten away with it. But don’t tell the State Department, just in case.
The techs down in geekville liked computers alot
But the [customer group], oh no, they did not
They hated computers, and printers as well
And to punish the geeks they would make their lives hell
“I’ll rip up my RAM, and smash CPU”
“Oh that would be great, what a fun thing to do”
“I’ll pull out all the cables, [customers] they crowed”
“Oh look, heres some spyware, for me to download”
“I’ll delete all my icons, and just to be dumber”
“I’ll give the poor geek the wrong serial number”
“I’ll ignore their instructions, I’ll open the case”
“I’ll scatter components all over the place”
“The funs just beginning”, [customers] they said
“I’ll make that poor geek really wish he was dead”
“I’ll go into the BIOS, yes that would be fun”
“and I’ll make random changes, ’til my hard drive wont run”
“Regedit I’ve found is a nice “game” to play”
“I’ll change lots of entries, but which ones I won’t say”
“The printer is jammed, well I’m not a fool”
“I’ll just clear that jam with a sharp metal tool”
“But I won’t call the help desk when problems begin”
“No I’ll wait and I’ll wait ’til 3 weeks it has been”
“And my systems infected, and broken, and busted”
“Then I’ll call the poor geek, and with him be disgusted”
For the secret, you see, when the manager’s cussing
and cursing and screaming and bitching and fussing
and pitching a fit ’cause you can’t work all week
Is don’t blame your dumb ass, just blame the geek
| Pure Nerd 78 % Nerd, 47% Geek, 21% Dork |
| For The Record: A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia. A Geek is someone who is passionate about some particular area or subject, often an obscure or difficult one. A Dork is someone who has difficulty with common social expectations/interactions. You scored better than half in Nerd, earning you the title of: Pure Nerd.
The times, they are a-changing. It used to be that being exceptionally smart led to being unpopular, which would ultimately lead to picking up all of the traits and tendences associated with the “dork.” No-longer. Being smart isn’t as socially crippling as it once was, and even more so as you get older: eventually being a Pure Nerd will likely be replaced with the following label: Purely Successful. Congratulations! |
My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:
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| Link: The Nerd? Geek? or Dork? Test written by donathos on Ok Cupid |
More than one person has, of late, commented that losing weight as quickly as I have isn’t healthy. I’m aware of that, thanks, and even if I weren’t, the feeling-like-crap part would probably have been a good clue. Bowing to the collective wisdom of friends and family, I hied myself to the family doctor today. Best to deal with this while I am still at a healthy weight than to let it go until I am underweight and worse off. (Seriously, I am at something like a healthy weight; I am coming in slightly above the top of what the computer at my gym considers ideal. When you know that your mom reads your blog, sometimes you have to be really explicit about the fact that there’s nothing to worry about.)
Without going into too much distasteful detail, the doctor is indeed convinced that I have a digestive-system problem, and has ordered some tests. One is a take-home, which I sha’n't describe, as I’d have to think about it. I’ll also be leaving some blood in test tubes at my friendly neighborhood medical lab tomorrow morning. I have an as-needed presciption for the digestive problem, which I hope I won’t need very often…but hey, if I didn’t have a problem, I wouldn’t have been to the doctor in the first place, so who am I trying to kid, here?
The doctor also suggested that there may be some depression going on, and he wasn’t the first person to bring it up. Frankly, I’m skeptical; I’ve been depressed and this doesn’t feel like it. I turned down the idea of an antidepressant; my doctor tends not to write a lot of prescriptions anyway, and brought it up mostly as something that might be appropriate in the future. If he doesn’t think I need it now, and I don’t think I need it now, there’s no point.
By a truly amazing coincidence, when I got in my car to go back to work, the local public radio station was airing a program in which the participants were talking about the selfsame digestive-system condition that the doctor suspects I’ve got. The really interesting part of the discussion—and something the doc didn’t mention, probably because of time constraints—was the role of neurotransmitters in the gastroenteric system. Fascinating stuff, and wonderfully relevant, too. I felt a lot better about the problem when I heard actual medical experts saying that stress can cause the problem, and it may or may not have anything to do with depression. Just the possibility that the fact that I have the digestive-system problem doesn’t automatically mean I’m depressed is quite a relief. I’ve been saying all along that it feels like a nasty stress reaction. It’s nice to know that I’m paying enough attention to my body that I might be right.
“Is there anything else I can do to help before I abandon you to your fates?”
I’m in the final hours of my contract at the old job; I’ll be moving to the new one (in another building not that far away) around noon today. I’m going to miss the people here, and I am sure I’ll be back to visit occasionally. The actual work at the new job will be much the same as the old one. Every department here does things a little bit differently, but the goals are the same. I’m a little bit nervous, but I’m looking forward to finding out what happens next.
Ed: There’s no problem that can’t at least be made better by a suitable application of cheese.
Me: What color is the sky on your planet?
“‘Paranoid’ is using a condom to masturbate.”
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