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All things in context, folks.

2 May 2011 (Mon)

Okay, I get it. The death of Osama Bin Laden is big news. And a good blogger would probably be spewing forth randomness about how I feel about it, and what I think it might mean for us as a nation, or even just saying, “Congratulations, soldiers!” to whoever it was who ultimately took down this raging psychopath. (<–Which I am saying, by the way.)

Except I didn’t get the news until 7 a.m. and by then, the Interwebs had already amassed enough condescending theoretical bullshit and pointless contrarian diatribes that I was exhausted before I could even log into WordPress. And now there’s all this stuff I want to say… Stuff about the futility of ideals; how the word “fair” shouldn’t even be used in this conversation; how some people are just batshit crazy, making due process almost impossible. And most importantly, how there’s a huge difference between celebrating “a man’s death” and celebrating the end of a murderous tyranny, and how you damn well better make sure you know which is which before you start criticizing people’s morality.

I’m certainly not going to parade outside in my American flag gown* or spend the night drunkenly “whooo-hooooo!”ing the U.S., because I do think that sort of meaningless revelry would be distasteful. But what I do not believe is distasteful is an impromptu gathering of citizens outside the White House to say “Job well done, sir!” Nor is it distasteful for folks to gather at Ground Zero in remembrance, many of them probably hoping for that sense of closure they’ve been seeking for a goddamn decade. I don’t believe there is anything morally remiss in a collective sense of relief at the only justice available in this case, given that the batshit-crazy individual in question never once considered invoking his right to due process. And if you honestly think he was ever going to surrender, that he would’ve ever consented to a trial so that you can have your idealized version of what “justice” should be… then you seriously haven’t been paying attention. And I’d like to point out that I am against capital punishment; I don’t think anyone ever has the right to take another human life. That being said, let’s not kid ourselves into thinking there was any other plausible end to this game of hide-and-seek with a lunatic. Seriously.

So no, I don’t think Americans have exhibited any distasteful behavior (yet). I’m sure at some point, someone will prove me wrong, because the human race has a knack for disappointing me on a daily basis. But until that asshole does whatever idiot thing he’s going to do, I will be quietly reveling in the knowledge that there is one less tyrannical sociopath in humanity’s midst. And if you want to fault me for doing so, have at it.

~ r.

* For the record, I don’t actually own one of these. Just in case you were wondering.

Congratulations: It’s a healthy 8 oz. Advertising Fail!

16 Apr 2011 (Sat)

No seriously, I didn’t even find this one on the internet; it was waiting for me in my very own inbox. Like Christmas… or Hannukkah.

I didn't even make this up, I *swear*.

"Pork: Because Keeping Kosher is Uninspiring."

Unless Evite ads truly are randomly generated, I have to believe this is a calculated marketing ploy by the commercial pork industry (…is that even a thing?). I can only assume pork sales are so low that the only recourse is to reach out to the ever-growing community of “Not As Religious As I Am Hungry” Jews.

Sneak Preview

1 Apr 2011 (Fri)

In the wee hours,
woken by nightmares,
I seek comfort and reach
instinctively for your side of the bed

Knowing, as I have always known,
you will be exactly where
you always are,
TV remote.

P.S. Please, no more infomercials.

 

– “At Lease You Never Steal the Covers”
from the probably-never-forthcoming collection Love Poems For Single Girls

Back to Broadway (Or not).

15 Aug 2010 (Sun)

I can’t even really explain how I came across this (other than to say my friends are awesomely bizarre and vice-versa, which is pretty much why they’re my friends), but suffice it to say I can’t decide whether the world is better or worse for its existence. Enjoy!

Power tools make fabulous murder weapons.

14 May 2010 (Fri)

It’s safe to conclude I have officially lost my shit.

Storm Door (in tact)

Storm Door (featuring Reverse-Barn-Door Effect)

Here’s the thing: I’ve been wrestling with this god-forsaken apartment’s storm door for as long as I can remember. It has two panels: the top is a window, the bottom is a large metal sheet (see diagram). The problem? The metal sheet keeps popping out of place, and then I live with a gaping hole in the bottom of my storm door for approximately two years before maintenance finally gets around to ordering me an entire new door.

For the record, I have made the best of a bad situation: This second time around, I discovered that the gaping hole is like a reverse-barn-door: perfect for things like setting my groceries inside without having to actually go inside; sitting at my door to watch the rain/snow; even letting in small woodland creatures (still convinced that’s how The Bionic Mouse captured the castle…).

So really, living with a broken door isn’t a problem. But it seems to be the one thing all visitors comment on: in that sad, pitying, “Wow, you really live in a shithole, but if I couch this as a joke, maybe you won’t feel so bad?” kind of way… which is the sole reason I bother asking the rental company to fix the door at all.

So I’ve gotten two brand new doors, and both times they were being installed, I’ve heard the workmen exclaiming something to the effect of (loosely translated):

“This is weird. Someone ordered the wrong size door.”
“There’s no ‘wrong size,’ they’re all the same.”
“They can’t be; this one is too big. It won’t fit.”
“…What?”
[fumbling and cursing and a smoke break or four]
“It’s just the width. Push real hard. It’ll go.”
“…Okay.”

And that’s when they install a door that’s about half an inch too wide for my doorway. While it’s true that storm doors come in standard sizes, that does not negate the possibility that some doorways are not standard size. Would it kill the rental agency to maybe take some measurements, and maybe order a custom goddamn storm door, so maybe I’d stop calling and maybe they could stop replacing the standard ones that never fit?!

…Obviously, yes – yes, it would kill them.

So whatever…I get a new storm door, and I should be grateful and get over it and stop writing about stupid shit on the internet. Because really, once they shove the door into place, it shouldn’t much matter that the door is too big, right?

…You’d think that, but you’d be wrong.

Here are some facts: That stupid m.f.-ing bottom panel is made specifically to fit in the storm door at a certain width. Sure, it’s pliable. You can force it to fit into a narrower space than the manufacturers intended. But, much like murder and too many burritos, there are consequences. As soon as you shove that panel into a too-narrow space, it behaves a lot like this layer of fat on my midsection behaves when I try to shove it into pants two sizes too small. The same rule applies: At some point, something has to pop loose. Solid matter does not just disappear because you want it to. Physics is a total bitch that way.

I’m sure there are other factors: namely low-quality rubber grips that hold the panel in place; and/or low-quality glue holding the rubber grips to the door frame, resulting in the panel ripping the rubber strips from the doorframe in its effort to free itself. But the general principal is clear: this is about size, and spatial relations, and shit that’s not very difficult to grasp if you can count, and also have a general understanding of the most basic laws of nature.

I have tried explaining this to the workmen before they install the new door(s). This is futile, and I don’t know why I bother. Having a uterus means I am not qualified to understand, let alone explain, anything involving hand tools or basic engineering. Attempting to argue this fact always results in one of two reactions: A) The blank stare (in the workmen’s case, presumably because they neither understand physics nor English… or possibly both); or B) The bemused smile, because look at me! I’m a circus freak! “Woman Pretends She Has A Brain; May Actually Be Able to Fix Something Besides a Meal.” (The joke’s on them; everyone knows I don’t fix meals. But I can replace a shattered car window and pour a concrete sidewalk, saving you far more money than it takes to order some fucking take-out because I won’t cook. It breaks even.)

So last week, I noticed the panel was beginning to bow a little. I pretended it wasn’t happening because that’s a source of rage I don’t particularly need right now. But this morning, I had to admit defeat. Round Three of “Door vs. Physics” goes to Physics. Sure enough, the lower right corner of the panel has popped out of place. Give it a week, and the entire bottom edging will have slipped out, and then it’s really just a matter of days before I hear the whole thing crashing to the concrete outside my front door. With the sad little rubber grips waving softly in the breeze… And me, laughing maniacally, because sweet Mary Mother of God, I fucking told them this would happen.

So the next step has been decided: I will be pulling the goddamn panel out myself; shaving down an edge to make it fit, and then billing my rental agency for parts and labor. I will also be adding fees  for Workmen’s Idiocy & Laziness, and a surcharge for, “Dear Assholes: Next Time, Don’t Assume the Chick Doesn’t Know What She’s Talking About.”

…Idiots.

The Password Is: R-E-D-I-R-E-C-T-I-O-N.

22 Apr 2010 (Thu)

Normally, when I find something awesome on the webernets, I just add a link to the menu (on the right… scroll… down…. there it is!) and go about the rest of my day… Which usually involves napping, snacking, wanting to nap and/or snack, getting cranky about not napping and/or snacking, or feeling guilty about napping and/or snacking when I shouldn’t have.

…And now we all know why the semi-regular blog updates stopped.

But sometimes, something so painfully awesome comes along that I am not content merely adding it to the Links List. Instead, I feel compelled to tell you exactly how awesome I think it is, as if you care. And that is what has happened in the case of Hyperbole and a Half. I can’t even really describe it, because I’m too busy obsessively clicking on the Better Pain Rating Scale and laughing through my tears.

(Ed. Note: If you’re wondering why I’m wasting time posting about other people’s blogs instead of getting a goddamn job, it’s because “SHOWDOWN: Jackhammer vs. Concrete” is currently taking place on the sidewalk in front of my building, a mere fifteen yards outside my window. If I attempted to write a cover letter right now, it would most assuredly end up containing half a dozen expletives and one only partially coherent half-paragraph about the fuckers who own my apartment building and all the manners in which I dream about them meeting an untimely end.)

~ r.

Wherein the Writer Directs Her Anger Toward Yet Another Person Who Is Too Busy Counting Their Money to Care That She’s Angry

18 Mar 2010 (Thu)

I suppose my time would be better spent looking for jobs elsewhere, but you know what? Sometimes the anger takes over. And if I don’t get vent that anger toward the cause of the anger itself, I’ll end up getting it out on Twitter, ranting about the interim Metro Director’s ridiculous salary; or inadvertently making my best friend feel bad for getting engaged (still feeling incredibly guilty about that one). SO ANGRY E-MAILS TO ENTITIES WHO ARE UNLIKELY TO RESPOND IT IS, THEN.

Ms. Howe,

I only signed up for JobFox because if I had not agreed to create an account, I could not have applied for a position in which I am interested.

While I understand this resume critique is a “free service” provided by your company, I find your results and suggestions misguided in most cases, completely erroneous in others. Read more…