How are you today? I'm superfantastic.

People Are Dumb

There's some commercial on with the slogan People Are Smart.  Every time I hear that, I think to myself, Really?  Have you met people?

The title of this post comes from the text of a sign that Vicki and I had planned to make and stick to our steering wheels.  That way when another driver did something stupid and we started to ask "Why would you..." then we could just look down and say "Oh, right.  People are dumb.  That's why."

I could have used that sign this morning as I witnessed this year's first example of a particular brand of stupid that you see in Wisconsin (and other winter-having states, I would imagine) around this time of year: the guy wearing shorts in the freezing cold.

With his shorts, this guy was wearing flip flops, a sweater, and a stocking cap.  When I checked the weather before I left home, it said that the temperature was 16 and the windchill was 2.  TWO DEGREES.  Why on earth would you wear shorts on a day when you can count the degrees using only your thumbs?  Is this some sort of demonstration of how manly you are?  Are we supposed to be impressed?  I don't understand.

If you're out there, winter shorts-wearing guy, kindly explain yourself.  And at the very least, put on some socks.

Grammar Geek Wednesdays: Secondly

This is a comment that my friend and former roommate Vicki left on my last Grammar Geek Wednesday post:

In hopeful anticipation of tomorrow's edition of Grammar Geek Wednesdays, I have these offerings:

1. A new interpretation of I's: For some reason, my dad has decided that I's is a contraction of I was. He frequently says "I's talking to your Mom..."

2. Speed vs. Quickness: Have football commentators always been obsessed with "his speed and quickness" or have I just noticed this? During the next game I watch, I'm going to count how many times the commentators talk about players' "speed and quickness." Really, what's the difference?

3. Less vs. Fewer: No, Mr. Football Commentator, that player didn't actually have "less touchdowns" this season than last season, he had "fewer touchdowns." Enough said.

4. Apostrophes: One of my co-workers has decided that apostrophes are optional. Her favorite words to use in e-mail are Ill, Im, Id, and dont.

Yikes.  First of all, that co-worker should be fired immediately.  Do you want me to call her boss? 

Second, I would say that football commentators are some of our nation's foremost grammar violators, apparently just after both of our dads.  It's hard to tell anymore to what extent my dad's problems with grammar are real and to what extent he does it on purpose to irritate my mother.  See, I get my grammar geekiness from my mom.  And my obnoxiousness from my dad.

Seeing as how I started up there with a first of all, I'd like to address the word firstly.  No.  Just no.  You can say first, secondly, thirdly or just go with first, second, third.   But please, I beg of you, no firstly.

Similarly, we have the words irregardless and orientated.  I saw Jon Stewart say irregardless one night and he immediately lost sexy points with me (I'm sure he regained them almost as quickly, but that is neither here nor there).  See, regardless already means without regard, thanks to that -less at the end.  There's no need to add ir-.  And you get oriented, not orientated.  I know, there's orientation, but that still doesn't mean that you get orientated there.  I saw an interview once with Mrs. Fields (of cookie fame) who said that what had motivated her to make something of herself was when she told someone she was getting orientated and he corrected her rather rudely.  Now, there is no excuse for bad manners, but you do see here how a grammar geek made the world a more cookieful place, don't you?  Because had Mrs. Fields not been spurred on to start her cookie empire, we would have fewer cookies and thus, less joy.

Finally, here's something that had never occurred to me as a problem, but really bothered a friend and former boss of mine.  We used to take students to the monuments and memorials in DC and we instructors would talk a lot about the quotes on the walls.  This irritated Francine because, as she would tell us, quote is a verb.  The words on the walls are quotations.  I find this very insightful, mainly because I still use Francine as a reference when applying for jobs.  (Hi, Francine!  Please continue to say nice things about me to prospective employers!)

And now, my grammarian friends, what have you got for us this week?  (If it's overuse of parenthetical remarks or sentences that, while not technically run-ons, are chock full of commas and so insanely long that by the end you can't even remember how they started, well then maybe you should make sure not to read yesterday's post.)

Now with far more backstory than the punchline actually warrants!

Recently the group I'm temping for moved from the fourth floor of one building to the basement of another.  So not only did we go from enjoying a very nice view to not seeing daylight all day, but my cube neighbor's radio station went from probable slogan South Central Wisconsin's Twangiest Country! to Now with even more static!  (Hello, Lori's iPod!  Now with Christmas music!)

Anyway, we're in the basement and the door nearest to my assigned parking lot leads into the basement (once you've swiped your badge and punched in your PIN code).  Except it leads to a part of the basement that is not connected to the part of the basement where I work.  I could instead walk farther outside in the freezing cold and then cut through a cold parking garage to come in to the correct part of the basement.  But in order to get into the heated indoors more quickly, I choose to go in the door closest to where I park, walk up two flights of stairs (or ride up two floors in the elevator, where you have to swipe your badge again, unlike the stairs - apparently this company is only concerned with security threats from lazy people), cut through the first floor to a separate stair case (stairs again, for I am all healthy-like!) and come back down two flights. 

You should also know that the other building offered free coffee.  It was pretty standard coffee, but it was there and it was caffeinated.  Here we have Starbucks coffee, but you have to pay for it.  Thus, I am bringing my thermal mug of coffee (Now with eggnog-flavored creamer!) to work every morning.

So, there I was coming down the stairs first thing in the morning when my boot heel got caught on the edge of the last stair and I briefly pitched forward.  Had I actually fallen, this would have put my face into rather forceful contact with the wall, most likely breaking both my nose and glasses.  But this was not my first thought.  No, no.  What immediately went through my head?

MY COFFEE!!!

And that, folks, is called having your priorities in order.

You wouldn't like him when he's angry

Informed that babies can't have stuffing, Owen becomes enraged.

The Thankgsiving Recap

Things that I was thankful for on Thanksgiving:

Waking up without an alarm, just minutes into the parade.

That when I popped up upon realizing that the parade had already started, it was to a sitting rather than standing position.  This way when I started to black out from becoming upright so abruptly, I wasn't in danger of falling anywhere except back onto my bed.

What was surely one of the longest, hottest showers in the long and glorious history of long, hot showers.

That all utilities are included in my rent, making that long, hot shower, if not free, then at least pre-paid.

Not having to cook a turkey.

Not having to travel more than a few blocks.

Getting my mom on the phone before my brother and sister-in-law arrived with the baby.  Because when Owen is in the house, my mother no longer cares what I have to say, nor does she speak in complete sentences in response.

The Packers improving to 10-1.

The way my radiator keeps my apartment so roasty-oasty warm that I was able to open a window without freezing to death so that I could air out the bacon smell.  Yep, bacon smell.

Once Thanksgiving is over, it is officially the Christmas season and people have to stop complaining about there already being Christmas stuff out.

Things that I was not thankful for on Thanksgiving:

The world's most giant zit.

That's pretty much all I can think of.

See, this year was what you might call a laid-back Thanksgiving.  I rolled out of bed, watched the parade and the first half of the Packers game in my pajamas, took a shower and watched the second half in some sweats.  I did some food prep and eventually dried my hair and put on clothes that were not elastic-intensive so that I could head over to Alan's around 4:00.  We enjoyed my carefully planned menu, which included Stove Top Stuffing (OF COURSE), roasted red skinned potatoes, and turkey.  Except our turkey was served in the form of turkey club sandwiches on sourdough bread.  Hence the bacon.  Because a) we did not need a turkey for only two of us and b) we did not need botulism.  I am not what you might call an accomplished cook.  I am a half-decent baker, but I did not make my traditional pumpkin cheesecake because Alan doesn't like it, so it would have been all for me.  Even more than I wanted a pumpkin cheesecake, I wanted to continue to fit into my pants.

Seeing as how I was going to be cooking in the kitchen of a 30 year-old straight male bachelor, I brought pretty much everything I needed with me, right down to an oven mitt and dish towel, both of which did turn out to be necessary.  I even asked ahead of time if he had a toaster.  Of course he did.  Except when I got there, he could not locate it.  Nor could he remember what might have happened to it.  Just in case you were wondering what kind of person would date a crazy like me, there you have it.

And that was my Thanksgiving.  Now, if you'll excuse me, this leftover stuffing is not going to overeat itself.

Grateful, Third Annual Edition

Things I am thankful for, as usual, in no particular order:

My radiator heat, which is oh so thorough

Owen and getting to see him in less than a month now

Future Niece or Nephew

Having been able to travel this year to four different states for the weddings of my sister and three good friends

Coca-Cola

The Packers at 9-1

How the two high school friends I had in Madison turned out to still be really cool

The many useful words and phrases I have picked up from my Scrubs habit.  "People are bastard coated bastards with bastard filling" in particular.

Not needing to go anywhere on Friday, much less near any retail establishments

A new season of Project Runway! Finally!

Dark Chocolate Peanut M&Ms

The water temperature in the restroom at my new workplace, which is set to Nigh Unto Scalding, my favorite temperature.  Because the cold water at the old building was really not helping with the perpetual coldness of my hands.

Stuffing Day.  Perhaps you refer to it as "Thanksgiving".

All of you wonderful reader people and especially you extra-wonderful commenter people

Your turn.  Tell us what you're thankful for, extra-wonderful commenter people.

Oh, and happy Thanksgiving, everybody!

Quitters Never Win

But do perhaps finally get their apartments cleaned up.

I'm quitting NaNoWriMo.  This is for a number of reasons.  These include how utterly terrible my book is and how thoroughly bored I am with my characters and my premise.  Yes, I was convinced last year that my book was bad, but it was the writing that was bad and that can be fixed.  Last year I really liked my characters and my basic plot.  There was a lot of good stuff to work with.  I went in this year with only the faintest idea of what I would write about and there just didn't turn out to be anything there.  Also, last year I felt some obligation to the Austin group in its competitions with other NaNo groups.  Plus there was the My God, But the Internet Will Know if I Don't Finish!  Apparently I no longer fear your judgment.

But really NaNoWriMo just can't be my priority right now.  Last year I could spend a few hours a day at work writing and then sit in front of the computer all night working on it.  Back then it only took a few minutes a day to confirm that there weren't any new jobs to apply for.  Here there are new jobs all the time and more job sites to check and so any time that I am spending on my novel is time that I am feeling guilty and stressed about not looking for jobs or applying for jobs.  And when I then spend several hours on one cover letter, I feel bad that I haven't accomplished anything on my novel.  I am ready to get off this particular merry-go-round of shame.

So I give up.  You win this round, NaNoWriMo.  Perhaps next year we'll go for the tie-breaker.

The good news is, the terribleness of this year's novel (what there is of it anyway) makes last year's novel look like Pulitzer material.  So maybe I'll put some real work into editing it at some point.

For the moment though, I am letting myself off the NaNoWriMo hook.  On to the next cover letter.

Random is the New Coherent

Well, ok, so I haven't come up with more to say about any of these things or anything to say about anything else, so instead, you get another Post of Randomness.  You're welcome!

• I've been getting a lot of paper cuts at work.  Handling all that paper dries out my hands, so I am constantly putting on lotion in an attempt to getting avoid more paper cuts.  And holy moly does Jergens lotion sting going into a paper cut.  Except I discovered that I had only thought that lotion stung on a paper cut.  It is practically a pleasant sensation compared with the juice of a Granny Smith apple.  I had to call upon every last drop of self-restraint that I posses to keep from running around the office screaming IT BURNS.  IT BUUUUUUUURRRRRNNNS!
• I just saw a headline on MSN about stars who may or may not be pregnant.  It began with the phrase "Womb Watch".  I find that deeply disturbing.
• The woman in the cubicle next to mine has her phone ringer set to this extended beep that sounds just like the bell at my high school.  Every time someone calls her I feel like I should be packing up my geometry book and freaking out about whether I remembered to do my French homework.
• Did you ever buy someone a really good Christmas present a full month and a half before Christmas and then feel like it might actually kill you having to wait all that time before the person can open it and know what it is?
• Did you ever worry that if you spent a month and a half building up the perfectness of someone's Christmas gift that it might perhaps wind up being a huge let-down in the end because no gift could possibly ever live up to that much hype?
• Oh, Target.  Have you been reading my diary again?  Because somehow you knew that I wanted to Christmas up my eight foot long mantle but could not afford to spend much on decorations and so you thoughtfully put your nine foot long lighted garland on sale for practically nothing.  Really, you have outdone yourself this time.  Target, you complete me.
• Does anyone know of a good allergy medicine that will not make me feel twitchy like the Alavert or cause me to slip into a coma like the Benadryl?  Fakey store brand Claritin did absolutely nothing for me.  I don't really have itchy eyes or sinus pain so much as just constant congestion, plenty of sneezing, and the occasional yet highly troubling post-nasal drip.  Suggestions are most welcome.
• Would someone please put away the clean laundry that is sitting in the basket in my bedroom?  It has been there for a week now and I can't help but notice that no one has taken care of it yet.  Your prompt attention to this matter is appreciated.

Blogger For Hire

I want to write you a blog post. I would like this post to be funny and coherent and make you all shake your head at the wonder that is my ability to be witty in writing.  Or at least my ability to do idiotic things and then tell the Internet about them.

I even have some topics in mind.  Except that each one would be roughly one sentence in length.  Or, because I am incapable of brevity, they would be one humorous and/or interesting sentence plus lots and lots of boring sentences in length.  And nobody wants that.  Maybe I will write them down and see if I don't have more to say about them later.

So I guess I'll talk about the job thing.

I couldn't begin to tell you how many jobs I have applied for in the past few months.  Some of these have been jobs I have really wanted, but I was pretty sure I wasn't qualified for.  But it doesn't hurt to try, blah, blah, blah.  Some I found interesting and felt like I had at least an outside chance at getting an interview.  And then there are that couple that I applied for just because I hadn't applied for anything else in the past couple of days and I need to get a job.

I applied over the weekend for a job that I really want.  And I am qualified for it.  I have done, if not everything on their very long list of responsibilities, then almost everything.  And I am passionate about the work they do, which is helping at-risk kids to succeed in school and go to college.  I am so sure that I will get an interview that I am checking my phone roughly every fifteen minutes to see if I have a message.

But I am also entirely convinced that they won't call, because I have been here before.  I was looking for a job for almost the entire year that I lived in Austin.  There weren't nearly so many jobs there and mostly they were in publishing where apparently they require previous publishing experience in order to get even the most entry-level of entry-level positions, but still, I lived with the bookmarking jobs and writing cover letters and submitting resumes and never hearing one damn thing for almost a year there, so I was tired of it before I even got here.

And yes, that worked out for the best, because if I had gotten some great job there that I loved, then I wouldn't have moved here, and most of the time (read: when I am not deep in the realization that winter is here and will be staying for far longer than I care to think about) I am happy to be here.  But the idea that I could end up spending another year at an unfulfilling temp job with no benefits, no job security, and very little mental effort involved, is just more than I can take.

I do realize, by the way, that this is my own damn fault.  I got a degree in Political Science, which is good for going to law school (my intial plan) or going to grad school (my second plan) but not for much else.  And I have had a series of jobs which, while interesting to me and generally doing some good for the world, are not entirely related and don't necessarily make the case that I am specifically qualified for much of anything.  A lot of these were contract positions too, which makes me look like I am a flight risk at any job, despite the fact that I took the jobs for a specific amount of time and stayed at them until they ended.

Probably some of you are wondering why I don't go back to school and it's not that I haven't thought about it.  I just haven't been sure what to go back for, and my experience of getting what turned out to be the wrong degree and then sinking a bunch of money into a masters that I didn't finish since it was in the wrong thing, makes me hesitant to rush into more education.  I do feel like I have it narrowed down now and am looking into possibly going back next year.

But that doesn't help me now.  Now I just want this one specific person to call me and schedule an interview and hire me so that I can stop looking and worrying and berating myself for having made bad choices that I have no power to change.

I'll see if I can't bring the funny on Monday.  Maybe I'll feel better as soon as I finish applying for this job that would allow me to write research papers for a living.  It would be a big, geeky dream come true if only they would hire me.  But I won't be holding my breath.

Grammar Geek Wednesdays: First-However-Often-I Feel-Like-Doing-This Edition

Look at that, a new feature!  Because I seem to have somehow attracted a big grammar geek following and if we can all agree that grammar is something to get outraged over, then by all means, we should discuss it more often.  As often as I can think of new things to write about anyway.

Item One: A sign I saw this weekend for a Re-Grand Opening.  No, Copps, you are not having a Re-Grand Opening, you are having a Grand Re-Opening.  Even learning disabled elementary schoolers generally understand that the re- beginning means again.  You, Copps, are opening again, not granding again.

Item Two: It's and who's.  These are contractions, folks, short for it is and who is.  If you are referring to something that belongs to it or who, the words are its and whose.  I know, it's confusing, seeing as how we usually use an apostrophe to show possession.  But just like yours, his, hers, ours, and theirs, its and whose have no apostrophes.  Now you know, and knowing's half the battle.

Item Three: If I wanted to tell you about where I lived in Austin, I could talk about Amy and I's house. This is, after all, what a lot of people would do.  But I would never do that.  It was Amy's and my house.  There is no possessive pronoun I's.  You can use this if you want to know how many i's are in a word, but that's it.  (Note: If the side that is for it wins, then the ayes have it, not the I's.)

Item Four: Literally.  It has been said before, but it cannot be said often enough.  Literally means in actuality.  If you literally died of laughing, YOU WOULD BE DEAD.

That will probably about do it for tonight.  I am literally falling asleep typing this.  No, really.

No, thank you.

Things that I would not like to do:

Be a punt returner.

Stay in an ice hotel.

Spend time with anyone who has ever been a host of The View.  (Exception: Lisa Ling, who left voluntarily to host National Geographic Explorer, which sounds like a pretty awesome job to me.)

Ever wait tables again.

Wear panty hose on any kind of regular basis. Or at all if I can help it.

Watch boxing.

Participate in boxing.

Participate in ice fishing.

Get any more piercings.

Reduce my intake of chocolate, cheese, or bread.

Spelunking.

Work in a salon.  I don't deal well with hair that is not attached to a head.  Even my own when cleaning my bathroom.  Ick.

Eat bratwurst.

Write science fiction.

Go to a Celine Dion concert.

Do one of those polar bear swim things. Those people are messed up.

Quit caffeine.

Appear on a reality show.

Square dance.

Have a pet bird.

Go on Jeopardy! only to be in the hole after Double Jeopardy! and have to miss Final Jeopardy!  (This is my prediction of what would happen, by the way.  I guess a lot and am frequently wrong.)

Undertake any sort of hard core camping experience.

Get any more papercuts on my hands than I already have. Which is six.

This is by no means an exhaustive list.  Just what has occurred to me in the time since I watched a football player return a punt and thought "I would NEVER want that job."

Enlighten us, Internet.  What wouldn't you want to do?  Or ever do again?

Pants is a funny word. Pants, pants, pants.

I've been out of the business casual game for a few years now.  I could get away with jeans every day at my jobs in San Antonio and Austin.  When I asked my summer boss here in Madison about her dress code, she said "no short shorts".  She also said that I looked professional in what I had on, which was a skirt, t-shirt, and flip flops.  Awesome.

But now I'm back in the world of no jeans/no tennis shoes.  Since my last business casual workplace was about four years and two pants sizes ago, I found myself with exactly one pair of khakis and some suit pants.  I have skirts and tights, but it has suddenly gotten wintry around here, plus gale force winds in the mornings, and I, as we know, am hugely wimpy where the cold is concerned.

So on Sunday night, off I went to Shopko.  Shopko, for those of you outside the midwest, is like Target, except without Starbucks.  (I bet you non-midwesterners would be envious of the two Target-esque options we have, had I not just mentioned the whole winter thing.)  And Shopko, God bless them, even had some pants in petite so I could wear them this very week without having to get them shortened first.

(Non-pants-related digression: Shopko, why is it that all of your sweaters fit me except they are too roomy in the chest while your button down shirts fit everywhere except that they pull across the chest?  You can either think that I am too flat-chested for your discounted clothes or too well-endowed, but you can't have it both ways, Shopko.)

Here is what I am finding about pants these days: increased security.  All of the pants I have tried on recently have had two hook and eye closures, a button, and a zipper.  Really, pants-makers?  Are these flat front khakis or a chastity belt?  Has there been increased terrorist chatter regarding the pantsing of women in cubicles?  Was this mandated by the USA PATRIOT ACT?  Hands off my pants, Congress!  And I mean that in every way it could possibly be understood.

Thanks for nothing, subconscious.

I think I've mentioned before this wacky thing my brain does where, if I read before bed, I dream about the story all night.  My subconscious tries to continue the story.  It's really no fun at all since I have all of these short dreams and I wake up after all of them and generally have a very poor quality of sleep.  But I have always thought that if I could just get my brain to do this with a book I was writing, I would be all set.  My subconscious could do the heavy lifting, plot-wise.  This annoying habit of my mind could finally pay off!

Well, folks, last night was that night.  I had been writing all afternoon and evening, so the characters and what small shred of plot I have were firmly lodged in my head.  I had novel-related dreams all night.  Which, let me tell you, were not only disruptive to my sleep, but also completely unhelpful.  This was deeply disappointing. 

My subconscious, while not helping out with the plot, did go ahead and cast a celebrity in the role of one of my main characters.  I can't say I completely understand its choice.  He is not even an actor or someone who, given the choice, I would necessarily want to dream about. 

My sleeping brain chose, of all people, Doug Wilson.

Doug Wilson, the designer from Trading Spaces and Moving Up.  Probably I watched a little bit too much Discovery Home during those two months of unemployment.  If only I had bothered to watch anything with a plot...

He gets me.

Him: People think you're sweet. 

Me: Yeah. 

Him: If they just talked to you, they'd know.

Me: I'm saying.  I'm a lot more bitter than I look.

I really should have asked you for novel plot ideas instead of post ideas

Because today is November first and I have to start writing a novel and I...am still not sure what I'm writing about.  Oh, and with totally predictable timing, I finally got a temp job as of yesterday.  Doing data entry, so that unlike last year, I am not able to write all day at work.  Perfect.  (Not that I am complaining about finally getting some work.  The ability to pay one's rent is in no way overrated.)

But we're not here to talk about my novel (or lack thereof).  We're here to finish up the four part series Your Questions...Answered!  So without further tangents, Laughing Mouse starts us out:

And, I add to the pet peeve grammar thing ... pet peeve drivers. Kelly and I've decided that drivers in Wisconsin ... well, Janesville really, are ALL MORONS. Your thoughts??

Oh, AND, do you think "global warming has taken over the world" and we're in for another mild winter here in WI or are you more of a "well, we've had it easy, so we're in for it this year" gal who thinks we're going to get SLAMMED?

First, it is my experience that drivers everywhere are terrible.  Other drivers, I mean.  Not me.  Or you.  Everybody else.  Including the motorcycle cop I nearly ran over today.  In his defense, he was in pursuit of someone in a white Cadillac, but he still came out of nowhere and zoomed into the lane next to me just as I was about to get into that lane.  I had my blinker on and everything.  Scared the hell out of me.  I wouldn't want to run over anybody, but especially not a police officer.  They send you to the big house for that.

Second, what is this "winter" that you speak of?  I believe the next season is called Christmas.  And after Christmas season, we have spring.  LA LA LA I CAN'T HEAR YOU IT WON'T GET ANY COLDER IF I JUST COMPLETELY REFUSE TO ACKNOWLEDGE THAT IT IS COMING LA LA LAAAAAAAAA.

Back to One Smart Cookie who asked, based on my reference to my dinner of vegetarian vegetable soup, whether I am a vegetarian.  Well, no.  I don't eat much meat at home, but this is mostly because with meat, you pretty much have to cook.  But I do eat plenty of meat cooked by other people when I go out to restaurants.  The reason for the vegetable soup was my aversion to soup meat.  See, I have texture issues with food.  And meat that is in soup tends to have a texture that makes me gag, so I wind up picking all of the chicken out of my chicken noodle soup before I can eat it.  If they made chickenless chicken noodle soup, I would buy that.  But the texture thing isn't all bad news.  Texture is a large part of my love for applesauce, pears, strawberries, tomatoes, good gnocci, cous cous, puffy Cheetos, string cheese, pudding, and Kit Kats.  Oh, and frosting, provided it is not that whipped cream crap, which is not so much frosting as it is whipped cream applied to cake.  Sick and wrong.

Finally, Holly Rose brought up a humorous job application that I once wrote as an exercise in procrastination.  This is a real time saver for me since I can just refer everyone back to this post where I already wrote about that.  Gosh, Holly, you think just because you've been busy over the past two years getting married, raising an energetic child, and taming wild animals teaching middle schoolers, that you're off the hook for not having the archives of this blog committed to memory?  I suppose I'll let it slide this time since it does allow me to get to bed that much earlier.  What?  I have to WORK tomorrow.  But please to head over to my job application and feel free to leave your answers in the comments here.  Even if you already did it.  Maybe you've changed your mind.

And with that, we conclude The Week of Using You to Generate Blog Material.  Thanks for playing!