I'm sure my husband would agree

Lets101 Quizzes - Quizzes for Fun

Not So Short librarian Rant Before My Head Explodes

• “Wiki” does NOT AND HAS NOT EVER equaled “Wikipedia.” Yes, Wikipedia is ONE EXAMPLE of a wiki. The two terms are not interchangeable. Anyone who spends so much of their lives online while claiming to be a tech-guru (as certain people who shall remain unmentioned) should know this. Because when you say “oh, we have a wiki” and I get excited about it, and then you show me an entry on Wikipedia and I discover that you’re a raving idiot…then I will start calling all of our computers Dells, even though the majority of them are HPs. I know that’ll drive you crazy.
• @ = AT. This is why it is called the “AT SIGN”. Look it up. On Wikipedia, if you must. Here, I'll do the librarian part and link you. CLICK HERE. But do NOT tell me – repeatedly – that I need to stop “using it incorrectly” because you’re reading it like it means something else (about? Approximately? How in the world did you make that jump?). I’m using it correctly. You’re reading it incorrectly. And these are my notes. Take your own next time. And how do you read email addresses, anyway? IdiotAPPROXIMATELY Gmail DOT Com?
• Those signs on the front of the printers that say you need to go to the reference desk and get a card to print something? Totally not fake. You have to A) Go to the reference desk and B) get a card. And the lovely person there will even help you. Wandering around the halls – that you passed not only the reference desk but also the circulation desk and at least 3 employees to get to – and poking your head in various doors (some of which aren’t even library offices – hence the reason they say AU TV on them) asking where the printer cards are makes you look like…well, like you’re an idiot. And judging from the rank insignia on your uniform, you should be able to figure this out by now.
• The fact that the staff association (which I am blessedly NOT in charge of any more) has changed the “Christmas Party” to the “Holiday Party” is not a cause for a major breakdown. It's almost not even worthy of a conversation. No one is trying to tell you that you can’t love the baby Jesus or hang up your holly. There's a really simple explanation: One of the staff officers isn’t Christian. She’s Hindu. And although you might have six heart attacks at the thought of working with a non-Christian, you’re going to have to get over that. And I am now mad at myself that I didn’t think of this last year when I was in charge of this ordeal, because we have a couple more non-Christians on staff, and I never stopped to consider that they don’t celebrate Christmas either, but they sure come to the parties and participate and help out. So now I’m going to go rant at myself for a while.

Boring Myself To Tears

Favorite Link of the Day: How to make a duct-tape miniskirt Now that we're all in a good mindset, I thought I'd bore you with some views of my drive home. If you'd like to freak out and think I took these while travelling 70 miles an hour, be my guest. I only wish it were true. Unfortunately, I was stuck in a traffic accident on my way home from work today. And, because I just KNEW that someone out there was dying for a view of my daily drive, I pulled out the camera that I discovered in my purse while I was looking for a checkbook to balance. You're welcome. First up an almost-picture of downtown: Then, we moved about 1.2 miles, and this is the view to the east: Then, we moved another 1.45 miles, and here's a view to the west: And then, 5 minutes later, we started moving. This is straight ahead at the sky in front of me. I love how different this blue is than the ones above:

It's My Birthday, Dammit!

Note: The title of the post was the drinking game of the weekend, requiring all in attendence to take a drink whenever the fateful words were uttered. Andrea and I are lucky enough to share a birthday. I was lucky enough to have her remind me - at constant intervals - that I am two AND A HALF hours older. The time: Friday, 8 AM The scene: My house, 7 hours before my girls arrive for the Weekend Birthday Extravaganza Me, to The Professor: "Damn it! It's not enough that I've been cramping for days! Now I can hardly breathe and I'm running a fever! Is it too early to start drinking?" The time: 12:15 PM, 2 hours before arrival The scene: Me cooking and frantically trying to remember if the cats have puked up their breakfast in a noticeable location. Me, to my sis on IM: "You know, I should probably slow down on either the Day-Quil or the caffeine." Sis: "Or have more of both." The time: 3:30 PM The Scene: The Professor and Friend complete a {very sweaty} two mile run and return to the house minutes after The Girls arrive. The Best Friend is due any moment. Me to everyone: "I need a drink." Friday afternoon and evening passed in a wonderful haze of alcohol, laughter, insults and a constant refrain of "Holy Crap, we've known each other for SEVENTEEN YEARS!" followed quickly by A's vodka-infused chorus of "It's my birthday, dammit!" followed by more alcohol, followed by...well, you get the idea. After ten years of hints, pleading, begging, failed attempts and outright bartering, The Best Friend came through with a homemade ice cream cake that makes me wonder why I'm known as The One Who Cooks. Who knew that it would go so well with beer? The Time: 10 AM, Saturday morning The Scene: Breakfast on my back patio, an hour and a half after we've all roused ourselves; we're starting a marathon of card playing. Me, to The Professor: "The OJ and the champagne are in the fridge. We need Mimosas. Now. It's my birthday, dammit!" The Time: 3 PM, Saturday afternoon The Scene: after The Best Friend joins us, we went shopping for a few hours. In the end - after a visit to the liquor store, no less - I insisted on visiting The Scariest Grocery Store in Shelby County to do some bargain wine shopping and labelled it as a "cultural experience". And it's my birthday, dammit. The Result: Four of us ended up spending about $150 on wine, because the prices were too good to resist. Please note that the only reason that only four out of five of us bought wine is because Number Five has an unnatural preference for vodka in all it's odd forms. Including grape flavored. Which is unnatural, but I love her anyway. Even though she is two AND A HALF hours younger. Pictures speak louder than words. The Time: 6 PM, Saturday evening The Scene: My dining room table Activity: I try to excuse my homemade "set your mouth on fire taco seasoning " as an excuse to get through the bucket of margaritas. So that we can start drinking all the other alcohol we bought during the day. The Time: 10 AM, Sunday morning The Scene: My dining room table The atmosphere: Quiet. Very Quiet. Final Tally:

• Only one of us got vomitously sick from the weekend's indulgences. I'm happy to report that it wasn't me;
• Several people in the county - who thankfully don't know my name - think that I run around with a pack of alcoholics;
• I have a huge chunk of ice cream cake in my freezer that reminds me every time I look that The Best Friend does care about my birthday wishes, even if it took her a decade to fulfill the ONE REQUEST I've ever made of her;
• The realization that because I have friends like these and a husband willing to put up with an entire weekend of female craziness...I'm a very lucky woman.

Weather

I wish I had a camera/microphone to capture the complete craziness of the lightening and thunder! The weather has gone crazy in the last 30 minutes. The satellite's gone out, and the weather display outside is completely crazy. Of course, I'm outside. Sitting on my somewhat-sheltered back porch where I can see everything. I should really be in bed. But the lightening is so active that I'd never get to sleep....so I might as well stay up and watch it, right? I'm going to hate myself in the morning.

Ready for my close up, Mr De Mille

So the big 3-0 is getting closer, day by day. And let me tell you, if I could turn 30 every year, I totally would. I’m getting awesome presents from The Professor.

I got to go see Phantom with my mom and my sister.

This Friday three girls that I met – get ready girls – almost 17 years ago!!! are coming in town for the weekend. We have matured. Slightly. And yesterday, The Best Friend totally spoiled me rotten with a whole day just for the two of us. She took me shopping, and I am now the proud owner of the sexiest black shirt I have ever owned. That might not mean much to you, but let me tell you something…that’s pretty freaking sexy.

Also, I have a new skirt! And a new shirt that manages to display the fact that I have both boobs and a waist, instead of very large borders that go all the way down my body in a non-curvy way.

We spent some therapeutic time in Victoria's Secret, which ended with two absolutely necessary items of clothing. God bless that credit card. And VS free gifts.

I got to go to lunch and have Adult Beverages at NOON! And then, things got really wild. She took me to get my hair done. And I promptly had about 2 inches cut off and got it layered and…holy cow, you’d think I was the first person in the history of the human race to get their hair cut I was so excited.

Then somehow, ten minutes later, I was sitting in a chair in a different salon (all the way across the street from the first) and .. oh the horror… There was a woman spreading hot wax on my face. Which she quickly attached a cotton strip to and then RIPPED OFF OF MY HEAD. Apparently, women do this to parts of their body all the time. Some of those parts make me cringe in fear. I’m stopping with my eyebrows.

To get over the wax experience (The BF will be gloating forever that I admitted it actually didn’t hurt that much), we went back to her place and split a bottle of Pinot. I may have come home to a missing husband and a smelly litter box…but sometimes, that’s just the price you have to pay for looking good

It's that time of year

They won't make a peep for the next five months. As long as we give them their gas fix.

A Cleansing Tuesday Morning Rant, Using the Word “Maybe” One Too Many Times

The crazies all got up early this morning. Too early, apparently. I don’t know if it has something to do with the time change, the moon cycle or if our low water supply has been tainted by the terrorists. Whatever it was, they were all on my stretch of highway, and something was definitely wrong on the interstate this morning. Maybe the commuter population of my state has been taken over by aliens. MAYBE THEY ALL NEED DRIVERS ED. This includes the cops. In a pair of high-tech cop cars. I’m pretty sure they were racing up and down the interstate. First south-bound, then they crossed the median to the north-bound lanes. Then they crossed back to the southbound and passed me AGAIN. Maybe one of them lost something important and thought that driving 80+ miles an hour would make it more visible? MAYBE THEY’RE INSANE. I hate SUVs. I can’t see around them. I can’t see what’s behind them when they’re behind me. And I really hate it when get in my car and discover that I have one on either side of me. And then, as I inch out of my space – because I can’t freaking see around the 10 foot SUV (that is really only necessary if you A) have 10 children – and in that case, buy some condoms, B) are carting around dead bodies that need to be concealed, or C) YOU WANT TO ANNOY ME) – anyway, as I try to back out, a car goes whizzing through the parking lot. And you know what? If I get hit, I’m pretty sure it would somehow be my fault. This parking lot dilemma happens more and more, and every time I get frustrated. It’s not safe to drive a car anymore? Maybe I should buy an SUV just so I can park where I want? MAYBE I’LL JUST RANT A LITTLE MORE. And then finally, I’m at work. I have my coffee. I go out to the public PCs to do a quick check of my credit card. And, once again, Capital One’s new, shiny, “you-asked-for-it-so-look-what-we-did-to-make-our-website-pretty” interface isn’t working. In the past week, this has happened to me 3 or 4 times. I can’t make a payment. I can’t even find out my balance. Maybe they have people working on it. MAYBE THEY SHOULD TRY THESE THINGS OUT? Hmm. Maybe I’m one of the crazies who got up too early this morning.

Unoriginal Thoughts on Semi-Parenthood

Stepson went to a college football game a couple of hours away today. After the game, he went to a friend's house to meet up with a group and hang out and watch yet another football game. Besides the fact that I don't quite understand the need to watch all this football... For the first time in this roller coaster ride titled "Step Mother-Hood", he has a curfew. I was caught a little unaware. Holy hell, I'm setting a curfew? He's never needed one before. I'd stay up til 3 AM every night if given the chance. How in the world did I get in this position? His girlfriend is there, of course. It's still 2 hours before curfew. His best friend is responsible for getting him home. I'm thinking about all of this a little bit more than I anticipated. Who's there? How many adults are present? What's the ratio of teenagers to adults? The time changes tonight. Exactly what time is he supposed to be home again? I'm very lucky. I have a very responsible and worry-wart type of stepson. But.... He's 16. Out with friends. They all have their drivers licenses. Now, I remember very well the kind of completely innocent fun I had at that age. I'm really not the worrying type. He has good judgement for a 16 year old. It's that "for a 16 year old" part that has me thinking twice. The transition from worrying about his every move to trying to worry only about those moves that I have direct influence on...it's a little disconcerting. I am LOVING watching him grow into an adult. Into someone that can have a conversation that ranges beyond "What's for dinner?". And I love knowing that he's out there making the wonderful memories that I have of being 16 with no worries. So why am I sitting here wondering what he's doing? He's becoming his own person. And that means not sharing every little detail of his life. I'm going to miss those details. And I'm going to be sitting on the couch with a stopwatch in about one hour and 45 minutes.

Another One Bites The Dust

We watch a lot of nonfiction TV here in Chez Barone. With the Professor having a life in History academics and me loving anything having to do with nature or nerdy facts, Jeopardy, The History Channel and National Geographic have a prominent place in our nightly line up. And that's not even counting the biographies that are constantly playing a soundtrack to our lives. Nature shows are much more my type of TV than The Professor's. But he finally watched an entire episode of Meerkat Manor for the first time about a month ago. And he LOVES it. Considering it has nothing to do with Elizabeth I or some kind of random fact like when stirrups were first used (they always get this wrong in the movies, which drives him crazy. "Stirrups weren't around until at least the 7th century! These writers know nothing!"), it's been amazing to watch him grow attached to these fuzzy little animals. Tonight I'm sitting outside, in my usual place with my usual glass of wine, when he comes to the door. He looks destraught. "Mozart's DEAD!" I didn't know this was news. He seemed a little more upset than I thought necessary. I mean, didn't the movie Amadeus kinda make that public knowledge awhile ago? "Um...What?" I eloquently asked. "Mozart. She's...dead." Now I was worried. I mean, Mozart was a little fruity, but he was definitely male. "Honey, Mozart's been gone for a while." Didn't Monty Python cover that in Decomposing Composers? "No! On Meerkat Manor! Mozart died, and her mate was coming, and the jackels got her, and..." Needless to say, much comfort was needed. He has now sworn off all animal shows unless they focus on reptiles or spiders, since he doesn't mind them being killed off in massive numbers.