No laughing aloud allowed

I have never felt like a stranger in my own home.  Even now, that I'm home all day and not spending 10 hours away from the house five days a week, I belong in this house.  It is my home.

I'll tell you a funny story.  My husband has been super supportive of me quitting my job and being home, with him, all day.  SUPER supportive.  You may remember that he quit his job back in February of 2012.  He doesn't have to go to work, EVER!  In the past year and a half he has gotten pretty used to having the house all to himself.  He liked it.  I think, while he was here all on his own and I was at work all day, he thought the house was his.  He had a routine.  He told me I'd develop a routine, now that I'm home all day, (but it better darn well fit into his routine).  He didn't really say that last bit out loud, but his actions and words to me around the house this past week have, sort of, indicated to me that this is how it's gonna work.

I don't really know my husband's routine and I haven't developed a routine yet, so we're just stumbling around trying not to piss each other off.  So far, so (pretty) good.  From what I can tell, the three tvs in the house are his.  There is a tv on each floor of the house.  While the market is open, the channels are all turned to CNBC.  After all, everything you need to know about what is happening in the world can be discovered on CNBC.  AND, now that neither one of us has a job providing outside income, we need to make our own money.  CNBC has all the information.  All tvs, while my husband is in the room, will be programmed to CNBC.

I do admit to enjoying watching CNBC, sometimes.  And, sometimes, I admit to enjoying Real Housewives of whatever city they happen to be filming this time.  And, just about ALL THE TIME, I enjoy watch those crazy housewives sit on two couches with Andy Cohen inbetween them and listen to them fight and watch them cry.  It is confrontation at its best.

Since I am now home all day, I was given some spoken expectations and I've been catching on to some of the unspoken expectations.  One of the spoken expectations, (and this is the funny part of this story, gee, it took me forever to get here and I've gone off on a horrible CNBC vs. RHOC trail to get here) is that I'm not allowed to laugh too loud.  Really, he said these words to me.  He told me he doesn't want me laughing too loud about anything.  Nope, no laughing.  If I find something funny during the day, I better keep it to myself.  He told me he doesn't want to have to tear himself away from working on his paper or paying bills or making a stock trade or whatever he happens to be doing at the time of my outburst of laughter to come to where ever in the house I happen to be to learn what it is I'm laughing about.  OoooooKay... whatever you say.

Seriously, even he can't believe he said this, out loud, to me.

I'm telling just about everyone I meet that this is what he told me.  I love it.  He believes this statement should be recorded in the husband annals of Things Husbands Should Never Say to Their Wives.  I'm sure it would be right up there with, "those pants make your butt look fat." 

I"m going to get used to the spoken expectations of life here in my own home.  I'm sure I'll even learn to tread the minefield of unspoken expectations.  I'll find my routine.  I'll even learn to fit into the thing my husband calls his routine.

I'll watch CNBC and look for the next BIG thing.  (why, oh why didn't I buy Tesla?  but, really, who'da thought those electric cars would end up being sexier than a Jaguar?)  After all, neither one of us is old enough to start drawing money out of our retirement accounts and we've both gotten quite attached to eating every day.  :)

476.  Having someone to run boring errand with, if I ask very nicely
477.  Green juice while watching Squawk on the Street
478.  The love of an old dog
479.  My son telling me he misses living with me (shocker)
480.  Saving LOTS of money on gas
481.  No phones ringing
482.  Discovering what I really like to do
483.  Did I say, getting up without an alarm... I love this part of it

Best of my blog: Get on the bus

I’m taking a little break from writing this week.  School is starting up and things are very busy around here.  But that doesn’t mean I won't give you anything!  I’ll be featuring a few reruns of some of my favorite posts you may have missed.  I wish I was cool enough to ask some of my favorite bloggers to guest post for me, but I'm way too shy to ask.  Anyway, maybe I'll get all caught up and be back later in the week, but in case I don't, enjoy some oldies, but goodies. 

I follow one blog as a guilty pleasure.  I know this person "in real life" and I've promised myself NEVER to comment on her blog.  It's caused a problem in the past and now our relationship is broken.  This wasn't my choice, but there you have it.  Anyway, she has a DONATE button on her blog and has been collecting money to buy an old yellow school bus to pack her family up and travel the country.  She considers her family "unschoolers" as she is supposedly allowing her children to learn at home at their own pace and desire.  Evidently, or according to her blog, she and the family have BOUGHT THE BUS.  But, now her son doesn't want to stay home and unschool, he wants to GO TO PUBLIC SCHOOL.  I read all this on her blog.  I understand her dilemma.  How can you live your life the way you want to live your life when your child won't let you?  But this isn't my problem.  My problem is this.  I want to comment on her blog, and I can't.  So I'm commenting on my blog.  Here it is.

So will you be driving your son to school in the bus?

513.  A great weekend for catching up on a few things
514.  Cooler temps reminding me that fall is on the way
515.  Anticipation of a trip to AC to see an air show
516.  A freezer and pantry full of summer goodness to take us into the winter months
517.  New co-worker
518.  I can give back the part of the job I've been covering during the vacancy
519.  Still enjoying the antics of the folks in this blog topic (guilty pleasure)

Use caution when operating machinery. No kidding!

This isn't a picture of my toe, but my toe looks just like this and itches like crazy.

It kept me awake most of the night with the incessant itching.  Finally, at 5:00 a.m. I took a couple benadryl.

That was a bad idea.  The image below is a pretty good representation of me today, at work.

Not pretty.

457.  Coffee

458.  More coffee

459.  Husband on his way home to me

You're not young

Finally, some of the 30 somethings are getting it.  Yes, some of the Millennials and GenXers are getting it, and they wrote a song about it.  Adolescence is over.  Look in the mirror.  You're NOT young.  You may have 500 fb friends that are still in high school, but you are NOT.  It's time to grow up.  It's time to get a job and pay your bills.  Quit depending on the adults in your life to loan you money, or a place to park your crappy bus, or take care of your children.  You're not young.   

Enjoy this video and have a good laugh.  Hopefully some of you will be able to laugh at yourself because some of us are laughing at you.  :)

421.  A day off and the opportunity to recharge after a long week
422.  Browsing YouTube and laughing 
423.  Laughter, it makes a body feel good all over
424.  Tomato and mozzarella di bufala salad

Justifying bad art

I've written about bad art before.  I don't like bad art.  I couldn't imagine there could be a justification for bad art.  I was wrong.

The beauty in calling yourself an artist is this, even a bad artist can call themselves an artist.  Seriously.  You don't have to be able to make a living at it.  You don't have to have your work approved by anyone, but yourself.  If you believe you are an artist, you can call yourself an artist, for no other reason than you want to.  Producing art isn't like, for example, juggling.  I mean, if you want to call yourself a juggler, it may help if you can actually keep some balls in the air.  :)  (You can do ANYTHING) 

There is a relatively recent phenomenon out in the world of art.  It is a thing called an Artist's Statement.  Of late, this statement has become a necessary component of an artist's portfolio or promotional package, because...?  Your art cannot speak for itself?  This is especially important if you produce bad art.  If your art looks as if it were produced by your children, you must write an artist statement.  This is crucial.  Don't worry, when writing your artist statement you can use words that are so vague they can make it sound like what you produce is art, without having to actually say it is art.  After all, you don't want to be called a liar AND an artist.

Like this artist's statement,"Her works are found in private collections and some of the most famous museums in nations throughout the world."  If it's true, don't hesitate to be specific.

If you say you have been dabbling, dipping, and dunking in the visual arts since your mom bought you a set of watercolors when you were three years old and your art has been mistaken for your child's artwork, this may not be the best sentence to have in your Artist's Statement.  If you want to describe your art as using brilliant colors with dark overtones that nature provided in your youth, please don't insinuate you do so because you grew up in coal mining country and you see everything through an inch of coal dust.  Be honest, tell people you can't find the light.  If you say you are a multi-media artist, in pastel, colored pencil, photography, acrylic, acting, singing, dancing, and the written word, be able to prove it.  Because if you think everything you touch becomes art, this limits your credibility as an actual artist.  Pick an area or two.  If you truly want to express your artist’s heart and soul, it would be nice to see effort being put forward, instead of a halfhearted attempt at whatever hit your fancy this particular day.

Now you know what an artist has to do to justify calling whatever it is they produce, art.  I have a gift for you.  Here is a tool to use when visiting art centers or art shows or art fest or even an actual gallery.  I found an art critique site, click here.  All you have to do is plug in any five digits and a phrase will appear for your use in communicating with an artist in their own language.  This is a great tool for those of us with the idea that art should be able to speak for itself and we don't want to embarrass the artist when they ask us what we think.  

For example, 55555:  Although I am not a painter, I think that the subaqueous qualities of the purity of line makes resonant the distinctive formal juxtapositions.  (this would be great for anything with paint on it)

Or, 99999:  As an advocate of the Big Mac Aesthetic, I feel that the metaphorical resonance of the sexy fish threatens to penetrate the exploration of montage elements.  (this could be used for any waterscape, human form, or even something with blue on it) 

Yes.  This says it all.  I'm not sure if this site has been made into a iPhone app yet.  I hope so.  Oh my goodness, it would come in very handy.

384.  I know I've said it before, but it's worth saying again, air conditioning
385.  Remembering that weeks that seem as long as this week seems makes it seem like my life is longer
386.  Healthy Choice soup cups for the microwave (especially butternut squash)
387.  Only having to deal with musicians and professors half of my work week
388.  The holy spirit giving me excitement to study the book of Mark
389.  A good night's sleep

from The Museum of Bad Art

The shoe no longer fits

There will be no more cute shoes for me in my lifetime.  I will never wear kitten heels or flip flops or strappy sandals or stilettos or ballet flats or sling backs again.  I have officially joined the ranks of women with "old lady" feet.  This is certainly one of the saddest days of my life.  I will never enjoy and look forward to shoe shopping again.  From now on, shoes with be functional and, hopefully, non-noticeable. 

My new work shoes (Sketchers)

If you are wondering why this is such a sad day, you aren't a woman.  Shoes and shoe shopping are one of the most fun things a woman can do.  Shoe shopping is the ultimate in impulse shopping.  We never NEED the shoes, we LOVE the shoes.  (men, if you are trying to relate to this, just think about the last time you were in a grocery store without a grocery list)  There is just something about shoes that can make you so happy.  We women have even been known to have special shelves built to hold and DISPLAY our shoes.  The best line I ever heard, in a movie, about shoes was in the movie In Her Shoes.  The character played by Toni Collette says, "When I feel down, I like to treat myself. Clothes never look any good, and food just makes me fatter, but shoes always fit."  If you want to understand women and shoes, rent this movie.  It's cute to watch.  And, of course, there is always Sex in the City.  Nobody loved a shoe like Carrie Bradshaw loved a shoe.  I'm going to miss shopping for shoes.  I'm going to miss it, a lot.  

Christian Louboutin

Jimmy Choo

Manolo Blahnik

Aren't they beautiful?  Yes, yes they are.  These shoes will never again be on my feet.  You cannot put an orthotic device in those shoes.  I, can now, no longer wear a shoe without putting the orthotic insert in the shoe.  If I do go without the orthotics, I will pay dearly, ...in pain.  I have resigned myself to a future of New Balance (or Sketchers) running shoes and oxford style leather dress shoes.  Neither of these look good with skirts or dresses.  I don't think I can ever feel pretty again.  I'm just going to have to get used to it.  I'll find handsome pantsuits and coordinated slacks and tops.  This is my future.  Now you know what they mean when they say, "Getting old isn't for sissies."   

357.  Orthotics
358.  Cortisone shots in my heels
359.  Running or walking shoes in black
360.  Memories of cute shoes
361.  The feminist movement?  (at least I'm allowed to wear pants)
362.  Every day my feet don't hurt

My office space in 55 words

Killing time in a cubicle

Listening to my neighbor’s sighs and yawns

Phones ring, facebook dings, email pops up

Urgency, then done

Boring

Killing time in a cubicle

Overhear my neighbor’s call

Movie dates, which one to see, laughing way too loud for me

She tells me all about it

Where's my scarlet swingline stapler

Telling a story in 55 words. Go see g-man.

Groundhog Day

Groundhog Day is my husband's favorite movie.  He loves it.  I mean, who doesn't.  Bill Murray is superb as Phil Connors, the egotistic weatherman.  I love his strong Chicago accent.  It's such a comforting sound for me.  And, Bill Murray is hilarious.  There are so many funny lines and so many funny situations.  I love the segment of Phil going out drinking with the two drunks.
Phil: You wanna throw up here, or you wanna throw up in the car?
Ralph: I think... both.
Then there is a police chase culminating with an escape route on the railroad tracks with a train coming towards them.
Phil: I'm betting he's going to swerve first.

The movie's theme is one of transformation. The transformation of Phil from an self-centered person with nothing but loathing for his co-workers and the Punxatawneyans to an empathetic soul falling in love with his co-worker and settling in Punxatawney, PA.  The meat of the movie is set in the premise of Phil being "stuck" in February 2nd, Groundhog Day.

Initially he is incredulous.
Phil Connors: Excuse me, where is everybody going?
Fan on Street: To Gobbler's Knob. It's Groundhog Day.
Phil Connors: It's still just once a year, isn't it?

Then he becomes the embodiment of gluttony while facing a future of "no consequences."  He eats everything on the menu in the diner.  Then he becomes self-destructive.  He tries to kill himself in many different ways.  When this doesn't produce the escape he craves (Phil: I have been stabbed, shot, poisoned, frozen, hung, electrocuted, and burned. Rita: Oh, really? Phil: ...and every morning I wake up without a scratch on me, not a dent in the fender... I am an immortal.) he becomes generous.  He changes a tire for a couple elderly ladies.  He catches a boy falling from a tree.  He does his job with excellence.  Sadly, he embraces his predicament and makes the best of it.  But then he is confronted with mortality.  Not his, but an elderly vagrant.  He cannot prevent this man's death.  "It was his time."  After accepting the death of the vagrant, Phil not only accepts his circumstances, but embraces them.  He takes piano lessons.
Piano Teacher: Not bad... Mr. Connors, you say this is your first lesson?
Phil: Yes, but my father was a piano *mover*, so...
He helps a young couple have the honeymoon of their dreams.  He embraces his annoying insurance salesman, Ned Ryerson, BING!  In the end, he becomes the town hero.  And, he gets the girl.

I am looking forward to watching Groundhog Day when I get home from work.  I hope you get an opportunity to watch it again, too.  If you've never seen it, please do.  It's a classic.

The entire movie is uploaded to YouTube here.

You can do ANYTHING

I wonder if most SNL viewers thought this sketch was as funny as I thought it was?  I know I am no longer the demographic SNL seeks, but, in my old age, I have discovered the joy of DVRing shows I cannot stay up late enough to watch. While I was skimming through with my Sunday morning coffee, I ran across this gem. Thank you, thank you, thank you SNL for portraying exactly what I'm thinking about regarding this very subject.  YOU CAN DO ANYTHING, and you don't even have to try very hard.

"No one has ever been honest with me about how mediocre I am."
"What if someone were to be honest with you?"
"I would immediately cry."
"And that's accepted now."

 SNL, You Can Do ANYTHING sketch.

Since I watched this sketch Sunday morning, I've been thinking about this generation so much. I'm still laughing about it, but there is a part of me that cannot help but feel sad about it. This sketch depicts young adults with no idea of what excellence is or the desire to work towards it. I see a lot of young people in leadership positions proclaiming "good enough" to the tasks they have been sent out to accomplish. Good enough.

The phrase "you can do anything" used to be a phrase of encouragement. It used to mean being born an American gave you the opportunity to pursue whatever your heart desired. This was the land of opportunity. One could "pull oneself up by one's bootstraps."

Now, "you can do anything" just means you are great if you "take a stab" at something. There is no need to excel or win or be the best. In fact, we've raised a couple generations of children without winners and losers. We didn't want to hurt their self esteem. What we did was kill their drive.

I'm still laughing at the sketch and at the people I know that are JUST LIKE the people in the sketch. I hope the target audience of SNL will see themselves as portrayed here. And WAKE UP! And realize it takes hard work and effort to succeed. Not just 1% inspiration and 99% "getting your name out there."

Predator

Which is the predator?
Don't be fooled by their cuteness.  Or lack thereof.  Looks can be deceiving.  Have a good weekend.

Aphid

Ladybug

Killer tomato By JessicaRaeRobeson

Contrived

When one wants to become good at something, one is encouraged to practice.  Right?  I've mentioned that to become proficient at something you have to spend 10,000 hours doing it.

So, is it contrived to blog often?  If you are a blogger and you want to become good at blogging or even if you don't want to become good at blogging, you just want to improve your writing, you write.  If you want to write poetry, is it contrived to write a poem every day?  If you want to be a wonderful chef, is it contrived to cook every day?  If you want to be a wonderful actor or lawyer, is it contrived to tell lies every day?  (just kidding, not really, yes I am, no I'm not.)

There seems to be a trend of thinking out there amongst the younger folks, that one is BORN being talented in some area or another.  I'm guessing, and I could be wrong, but I don't think so, this trend of thinking comes from observing teen pop stars like Justin Bieber and Taylor Swift and (from the olden days) Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera.  There is a trend of thinking that believes these folks were born talented and luckily, became RICH and FAMOUS.  And, the thinking continues, if it happened to these folks, it could happen to me, as well.  I mean, aren't I talented?  My high-school art teacher said I showed some talent.  And, I saved all the pictures I drew in high school and they must be worth hundreds of dollars now.  And, I play the guitar some and, even if I don't play every day, I'm still as good as any rock star and I deserve to be rich and famous, too.  I think there may be a disconnect with the fact that these LUCKY pop stars didn't graduate from high school and spent ALL their time singing or dancing or both and there was a lot of hard work involved and there were parents giving up their time and energy, as well.  But, ... who's thinking about that.

Practicing is thought of as contrived.  I guess the words or the music or the art or the cooking or the arguing is supposed to flow through a person organically.  Anything of any worth or value comes out of the person without rehearsal.  If the music or the art or the cooking or the arguing has been practiced or rehearsed, it is contrived.  In my point of view, this is just being lazy.

Practicing, especially when you don't want to do it, is what makes you proficient at whatever it is you want to do well.  It not only gives you the opportunity to do your thing 10,000 times, it teaches you to have the discipline to keep working at whatever it is you want to do, even when it becomes tough to do.

If I want to be a better writer, I need to write every day.  Even when I have a tough time thinking of a topic to write about.  Even when the topic is something that isn't so much fun to write about.  If I want to become a better writer, I need to write.

Words with friends

This is my new obsession.  It's kind of like Scrabble, but it's different in some essential ways.

It's my obsession because it's an app on my iPhone and I love playing with my phone.  Also, I'm good at it.  I'm good at it in a way I was never good at the regular Scrabble game.  I can beat my husband on this game almost every time we play.  Sadly, we sit next to each other on the couch and play Words with Friends while we watch tv.  Yep, even I think this is weird, but there you have it.

How is it different from Scrabble and why does this work better for me?  First, it has more Triple Word spaces.  Secondly, you can guess at words without being humiliated by your husband and mil.  "Of course YI isn't a word!"  (see, on WWF you can submit the word and the app will tell you it isn't a word and nobody needs to know the difference)  This allows for a LOT of guessing.  I'm super good at guessing, so this works for me.  Lastly, I play this game with my husband when he is super tired and not thinking on all cylinders.  I think this is key.

WWF is a fun game and a great way to waste time.  Just don't be like Alec Baldwin and get so into the game you can't be civil and get kicked off an airplane and make everyone wait and make the flight late because you think you are better than everyone else and then do a crappy apology on SNL that nobody believes anyway.

Happy Monday.  :)

Are you a loser?

And now for something completely different.  I wasn't too surprised at my result in the loser test.  It may be due to my lack of tattoos and sexual piercings and my penchant for professional golf, but I don't know for sure.  Feel free to take a break from your holiday baking, shopping, cleaning, wrapping, or whatever else you're supposed to be doing and find out where you stand.  After all, it's good to have confirmation.  :)
 

15 Adult Truths

I found these in my Google+ stream.  They made me laugh so hard, I had to share.

1. Sometimes I'll look at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.

2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.

3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.

4. There is great need for a sarcasm font.

5. Was learning cursive really necessary?

6. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

7. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

8. Bad decisions make good stories.

9. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day..

10. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call. 

11. How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word they said?

12. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and sisters!

13. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.

14. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I'd bet everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time.

15. The first testicular guard, the "Cup," was used in Hockey in 1874 and the first helmet was used in 1974. That means it only took 100 years for men to realize that their brain is also important.

by Tim Jones                                                                     Thanks Google+

Zombie advice

It seems like I've been in the advice giving mode lately.  Which is truly funny, as I certainly need to take more good advice than pass any out.  In honor of catching myself in the act of doing something I know I shouldn't be doing, I will give you one last advice post.  It's pretty important.  I mean, a zombie apocalypse could happen.  Also, The Walking Dead are back on AMC.  LOVE it.  I'm a zombie fan.  All time favorite, the first Dawn of the Dead.  I love them all.  If you are not a HUGE zombie fan, I recommend Shaun of the Dead or Zombieland.  Both excellent beginner zombie films.

Back to the point of this post.  I have a few tips to survive a zombie invasion.

1.  Get a good pair of running shoes.  Not all zombies are the slow walkers.  In fact, lately, zombies have been getting faster.  It wouldn't be a bad idea to start doing some cardio now.  Zombies, especially the fast zombies, don't become out of breath while chasing you.  They don't breath anymore.  They are dead.

2.  Get a bunch of guns.  Seriously.  You are going to need guns and bullets.  Lots of them.  It may not be a bad idea to start your marksmanship practice now, too.  I mean, you've got to shoot them in the head.  It's the only way to "kill" them.  You can cut their heads off.  That works too, but you have to get up close and personal to do that.  Another way to "kill" them is to burn them up.  So, while your getting some guns, get a couple flame throwers, too.

3.  Get out of the cities and into the country.  You have to have a lot of open space around you to see them coming.  In cities, they can just pop out anywhere.

4.  When you find a safe place to hunker down in the country or small town, find stuff to reinforce windows and doors.  Find strong stuff, like 2"x 4"s and 1/2" plywood.  Sticking a chair under the doorknob is just not going to cut it.  Remember, the zombies do not get tired.  They will pound and pound away.  They don't mind breaking glass or getting cut.  Remember, they are dead.

5.  If, by chance, you meet up with other survivors and decide to join forces, do not turn on each other.  Seriously people, you don't want to throw other survivors under the bus.  One of your group is probably already the bossman and I can guarantee that the group you hook up with will have a bossman.  Please, for the love of God, encourage these guys (or girls) to get along and not forget they are in a zombie apocalypse.  This will only put everyone else in danger.

6.  This goes without saying, but I'm going to have to say it anyway.  Don't have sex.  Just don't.  Please save your energy for being a lookout or looking for food and water or finding more bullets and guns or finding more gas for your car or truck.  Seriously, sex should be the last thing on your mind.

7.  Oh yeah, I almost forgot, learn to be a good story teller.  There will not be any electricity, so, no tv, no Netflix, you won't be able to charge your iPod.  You are going to have to entertain each other in your downtime.  Please learn to tell a good story.  :)

8.  Make a plan and agree on it.  If you are going to survive, you're going to need a plan.  When you've figured one out, using whatever democratic or autocratic method you use, stick to the plan.  Don't go rogue when you break into your small groups.  People are counting on you.  For pete's sake, don't decide to check out the high end department store if you've been sent out to get food.  You don't need that Louis Vuitton bag, just because you don't have to pay for things anymore.

9.  If you get bit by a zombie, tell the other people you are with all about it.  Don't hide your wound and think you will be the one that recovers from a zombie bite and doesn't turn into a zombie.  You're going to turn into a zombie.  It's a fact.

10.  Don't be afraid to shoot your mother, father, sister, brother, husband, son, daughter, wife, minister, anybody you are related to or good friends with if they turn into a zombie.  You're going to have to shoot them in the head, cut their head off or light them on fire.  There are no close relationships with zombies.  They will want to eat your brains and they will not remember who you are.  That's just the way it goes in the zombie apocalypse.

Ok, that's all my advice giving for a while.  I think I've covered all the important things in life in the last few days.  Let's see, what you need to know to live a better life, how to succeed in life and now, how to survive the zombie apocalypse.  I think we're good now.

I really do have a sense of humor

I know I've mentioned my Myers Briggs type is ISTJ.  I realize not everyone is quite as fascinated with personality typing as I am, but it's my blog, so there you are.  My point today is about my sense of humor.  An ISTJ's sense of humor is often described as "offbeat."  It's also been described as sarcastic humor.  My sense of humor has been described as witty and dry.  Finally, I'm fairly quick on the uptake and can come up with a clever come-back at a moments notice.  There are some types out there that just don't appreciate this type of humor.

Here are a few of the things I find funny.  I found this on fb.

I think this was the wrong story for him to cover.

I love dark comedies.  Fargo, Thank you for Smoking, Bad Santa, and the best EVER Dr. Strangelove or: How I Stopped Worrying and Love the Bomb.

Was I born with this sense of humor or did I develop it?  One time a lady told me the things I say just make her jaw drop.  I guess that means she didn't think I was funny.  :(  Too bad for her.

When in college I had an anatomy class with a cadaver.  There was a living teacher and other living students in the class, but there were also eight cadaver.  I was always respectful, but there is a certain level of humor one must have when dealing with the dead.  And, I had that sense of humor needed for dealing with it. 

Finally, this blog is HILARIOUS.  I wish I was a clever enough writer to comment on it.

If you've never seen Dr. Strangelove, quick, open your Netflix streaming and ENJOY!!

Please feel free to send your most offbeat humor my way.  I LOVE it.

Get on the bus

I follow one blog as a guilty pleasure.  I know this person "in real life" and I've promised myself NEVER to comment on her blog.  It's caused a problem in the past and now our relationship is broken.  This wasn't my choice, but there you have it.  Anyway, she has a DONATE button on her blog and has been collecting money to buy an old yellow school bus to pack her family up and travel the country.  She considers her family "unschoolers" as she is supposedly allowing her children to learn at home at their own pace and desire.  Evidently, or according to her blog, she and the family have BOUGHT THE BUS.  But, now her son doesn't want to stay home and unschool, he wants to GO TO PUBLIC SCHOOL.  I read all this on her blog.  I understand her dilemma.  How can you live your life the way you want to live your life when your child won't let you?  But this isn't my problem.  My problem is this.  I want to comment on her blog, and I can't.  So I'm commenting on my blog.  Here it is.

So will you be driving your son to school in the bus?

You Might Be From Chicago If

I got this email from my brother-in-law who lives in Aurora, IL.  I usually delete his emails immediately, because he only sends forwards.  I can't stand forwards.  But the subject line caught my attention because I Am From Chicago.

By the way... all the items listed below are true.

1. The "living room" is called the "front room."
2. You don't pronounce the "s" at the end of Illinois. You become irate at people who do.
3. You measure distance in minutes (especially "from the city"). And you swear everything is pretty much 1/2 hour away.
4. You have no problem spelling or pronouncing "Des Plaines."
5. You go to visit friends or family down south and laugh when they complain about the traffic.
6. You understand that no person from Chicago can be a Cub fan AND a White Sox fan.
7. It's "Kitty corner" not "Katty corner."
8. You know the difference between The Loop and Downtown
9. You eat your pizza in squares, not triangles, and you never refer to it as "pie"
10. You own celery salt
11. You understand that the primary is the official local election.
12. You have drunk green beer on St. Paddy's Day
13. Stores don't have sacks, they have bags.
14. You end your sentences with an unnecessary preposition. Example: "Where's my coat at?" or "Can I go with?"
15. Your idea of a great tenderloin is when the meat is twice as big as the bun, "everything" is on it and a slice of dill pickle is on the side.
16. You carry jumper cables in your car.
17. You drink "pop."
18. You understand that I-290, I-90, I-94, and I-294 are all different roads.
19. You know the names of the interstates: Stevenson, Kennedy,Eisenhower,Dan Ryan, and the Edens
20. But you call the interstates "expressways."
21. You refer to anything south of I-80 as "Southern or Central Illinois."
22. You refer to Lake Michigan as "The Lake."
23. You refer to Chicago as "The City"
24. "The Super Bowl" refers to one specific game in January 1986.
25. You have two favorite football teams: The Bears, and anyone who beats the Packers.
26. You buy "The Trib" and not the Tribune.
27. You know that despite being on the lake, there is no such place as the Waterfront.
28. You think 45 degrees is great weather to wash your car.
29. You picnic or ride your bike in the "forest preserve"
30. You cried when Bozo was canceled on WGN.
31.You know what goes on a Chicago style hot dog.
32. You know what Chicago Style Pizza REALLY is.
33. You know why they call Chicago "The Windy City."
34. You understand what "lake-effect" means
35. You know the difference between Amtrak and Metra, and know which station they end up at.
37. You have ridden the "L."
38. You think your next-door neighbor is a cousin to Tony Soprano.
39. You can distinguish between the following area codes: 847,630,773,708,312, & 815.
40. You have at some time in your life, used your furniture or a friend's body to guard your parking spot in winter
41. You respond to the question "Where are you from" with a "side." Example: "West Side," "South Side" or "North Side."
42. You know the phone number to Empire Carpet!
43. You know what a garache-key is!

If you have any questions regarding the above list, do not hesitate to ask me about it in the comments or email.  I'm happy to share my Chicagoness with you.

A wet dream

Not that kind of wet dream.  :)

Last night I had a dream so vivid, it scared me.  It wasn't a good dream, but it wasn't really a nightmare.  It contained elements of my real life and fears I only see in the movies.  I will do my best in the telling, not only for my own information, (with the horrible fear of dreams predicting the future) but to work on my story telling abilities (I am such a "just the facts m'am" kind of girl).

I was on my way to NYC to meet my girlfriend, Donna, who was visiting from Chicago.  (I don't really remember the mode of transportation I was using, but for sake of the story let's say I'm taking the train.)  I was happy and excited and a bit nervous.  My instructions were to meet Donna at the library.  Even though I've been to NYC many times, I'm unfamiliar with the library.  I understand it is located near the train station.  (In my dream the train station is Union Station in Washington, DC.  I guess a train station is a train station, but I like Penn Station and maybe things would have gone better for me, in my dream, had I gone to the train station corresponding with the city I was visiting.  Just a thought.  And, I don't really know that I'm taking a train, because there was no train in my dream.)  I arrive at the library near the train station that happens to be next to Union Station even though I'm in NYC.  (I'm telling this quite badly, I think.)

I enter the library.  It has a modern type of decor.  Very IKEA.  There is a curved, birch wood circulation desk with a librarian standing and smiling.  I notice a number of people in the area behind the circulation desk.  There is a doorway leading to, what I assume, are offices.  Library employees are milling about behind the desk.  I am looking around for my friend.  I'm carrying my purse.  My purse is EXACTLY the purse I carry in real life.  It is a purple patent leather tote.  Way too big for my needs, but quite stylish.  I don't know exactly what is in my bag, but I know I have my phone, my wallet and peppermints.  All of a sudden, I notice there are quite a few people around me.  I'm uncomfortable with the crowd around me.  I guess the librarian notices my discomfort and beckons me towards her.  I go.  She offers to take my bag and keep it behind the desk so I can browse the stacks and look for my friend.  I give it to her.  I go into the library and begin browsing.  While looking through some books, my girlfriend taps me on the shoulder.  We hug and greet each other.  Lots of smiling.  I feel happy.

We sit down at a table in the library and begin to talk and catch up on each other's lives.  Then the conversation turns to discussion of dinner.  Where do we want to go?  Donna suggests a restaurant near the Arch in Washington Square or it could be the Lincoln Memorial. (These landmarks seem to switch around in my dream.  It is so confusing to me.  Even in my dream, I'm wondering to myself, "what city am I in?"  No matter.)  We get up to leave and I tell Donna I need to stop at the desk to get my purse.  She looks at me in horror.  "You gave your purse to the person at the desk?  Are you NUTS?  This in NEW YORK CITY!"  I go to the desk.  I begin to think to myself, "I'm such an idiot.  Why didn't I ask for a claim ticket?  Why did I do this?  I'm so stupid."  I see bags hanging on hooks on the wall.  I don't see my bag.  I ask for my bag, they don't have it.  The librarian really doesn't seem to know what I'm talking about, at all.  She invites me behind the desk to look.  I look EVERYWHERE.  I'm frantic.  I go into the offices through the doorway and look in every drawer and closet.  I'm more frantic.  I'm panicking.  No purse.  It's gone.  I'm devastated.  I'm scared.

Donna and I look at each other in horror.  She is much more compassionate now.  Donna suggests we get a cab, go to dinner, and decide what to do from there.  Suddenly her iPad rings.  (Now, I have no idea why her phone is an iPad?  I know iPads do not have a phone feature, but this is a dream and this one did.  So, you will just have to bear with me.)  On the iPad is the image of a man saying he has my bag and if I want it I need to go to the lake in Central Park.  (Yeah, I guess we are using 'face time' on the iPad.  I think this is a really good idea.  Steve Jobs?  Are you listening?)

Donna and I leave the library and hail a cab.  We get in the cab, and, of course, the driver is the Cash Cab guy.  He doesn't speak to us.  We travel to Central Park, to the lake.  I'm very concerned, but hopeful I will get my purse back.  It's dark outside now.  So we're both a little nervous.  We get out of the cab and walk over the lake.  The vantage point I have of the lake makes me think I'm standing on a bridge.  I don't remember seeing a bridge, but this is what I remember of my dream.  Anyway, I see my purse floating in the lake.  The first thing I think to myself is, "crap, my phone is ruined."

I climb down to the edge of the lake and scoop my bag out of the water.  Yes, it's mine.  Purple.  Shiny.  Full of water.  Ruined.  I open the purse.  Yep.  My phone is there.  Broken.  I open the clasp of the compartment I keep my wallet in.  Yep.  Wallet is there.  I open the wallet.  Empty.  No money.  I'm relieved and upset at the same time.  I'm wet.  I'm dirty.  I sit on the ground and look through the wallet.  My identification is there.  My credit card is there.  I just don't have any cash.  I've been robbed.  

I wake up.

This is the first time I've ever taken the time to sit down and write down a dream, a vivid dream.  I don't know whether or not it holds much significance, but it was fun.  Here's some background for any of you dream analysis people out there.  I do have a friend named Donna, from Chicago.  I have just planned to see her in a couple weeks.  She's coming to DC.  This dream was so vivid, the first thing I did when I woke up was to go downstairs and see if my purse was in my kitchen.  It was.

Thanks for letting me share.  I hope this wasn't too boring.

Bad art

I love art.  I enjoy strolling through an art gallery and enjoying the paintings and sculpture.  I've been to the Uffizi Gallery in Florence, Italy.  I've seen the Venus on the half shell.  I've been to the Louvre in Paris.  I've seen the Mona Lisa and the Venus de Milo.  I've been to the art gallery in Chicago and seen American Gothic.  I've been to the National Gallery and seen the Gauguin collection and a special showing of Calder's work.  I've been to the impressionist art museum in Paris before they moved it to the train station and now I can't remember what the name was 'cause I'm old and old people forget stuff.  Anyway, I enjoy art.

How come there is so much bad art out there?  I work at a college.  There is TONS of bad art here.  Most of it is very ugly, depressing and bland.  I guess when you have a lot of young people and a lot of angst and lots of art materials you can get a lot of bad art.

Why am I telling you this?  They've removed the ugly art in the hallway leading to the ladies room in my building.  Yippee!!!  I think.  Who knows what they will hang to replace the piece I am certain was a representation of a dead cow?  Or what will hang instead of the special piece consisting of a black line and black outline of a circle and a red dot?  Or, what will replace the piece that looked like black ink watered down and smeared across the paper?  Btw, what is the deal with all the black.  Don't we buy colored paints or inks or anything with a splash of color?  Or, can we have art that is a representation of something identifiable?  Just a question.  Anyway, now we have blank walls and the improvement is ENORMOUS.  Time will tell.

Oh, and don't think a college is the only place with bad art.  There ought to be a law.

Em, send some art my way.  We need some beauty over here.