I wish I had more time to hang with y’all, but I’ve just started my own business and it’s entirely up to me to make sure I don’t fail spectacularly. Trixie is slinking around here somewhere, maybe she’ll stop banging her hot boyfriend for a minute and tell you all about it. Tailfeather is on vacation I believe, so I’m sure she’ll have something for you when she gets back.
But for today I have a brilliant post I came across and should print out and take with me every time I go to the doctor. You’ve seen these pain charts, yes? The idea being that everyone interprets pain differently so my #6 on the scale will not be the same as your #6, therefore you are supposed to point to the face that represents how you feel in order to indicate to the doc what’s going on. And for kids it’s good as well.
Don't stare at me, I haven't been caffeinated yet.
Yesterday I had a total geek out moment while watching the Discovery Channel. I just love getting completely enthralled and amazed by some of the footage these Discovery people can put together, not to mention the mind blowing advances in photographic technology that allow these images to be captured. But the really cool thing is that even amateur photographers can produce some pretty ‘wow’ images. Click the bug above to see the rest of the gallery, taken by a guy who sneaks into the woods while the bugs are “sleeping” to photograph them as so.
Note: I am not snarking on this man, but would like to say that the BF's back situation is not quite so dire.
I’m heading off on Tuesday morning for five nights in Malta and a much-needed vacation after a stressful first quarter (what else is new? – oh, I mean that stress-wise, not jetting to Malta-wise – the latter is new). Our flight is at the ungodly hour of 6:30 am, and we are requested to appear at the airport two hours in advance. To cut down on travel stress, we’ve booked an airport hotel room for tomorrow night, and I intend to head there after work for the luxury of rising at 4:00 am rather than 3:00 am, and the avoidance of taxi/tube/train panic. Worth £44? You betcha.
Besides my typical packing freakout (present and accounted for, sir!), I took the opportunity today to engage in pre-vacation grooming. I opted out of a bikini wax this time in favor of an economically advisable DIY razor-job. While I have been dreaming of a sunshine and beach holiday, I fear that even Malta will be too chilly this time of year for sunbathing, so I don’t see any point in suffering through a wax when I will likely be clad in jeans and a monochrome tee-shirt for the majority of my visit.
Nonetheless, I have plucked, bleached, and shaved in anticipation – at the very least I am hoping for a Turkish bath and a massage, and, sadly, one wishes to conform to Western beauty standards. But while I am responsible for my own grooming, it seems I am also responsible for that of my male vacation companion. I’m not complaining, per se – if one was able to competently shave one’s own back, one would be something of a medical marvel. But aside from my responsibility for sunscreen, bathing suits, itinerary printouts, and toiletries (all things he has/will forget without my prompting), I am also tasked with boyfriend depilation. (more…)
Several of you, our 420 friendly readers, have written asking about generation joints. As luck would have it, I got laid off from my job of 7+ years last month and found myself eyeing up the stash with a serious budgetary eye. It’s bad enough to have to ration the bud stash, but without money coming in I was headed for panic mode. It wouldn’t be so bad if I chose cannabis for my recreational fun, but it’s also my choice for medication which makes it a necessary expense.
Lately I’ve been smoking cones, (saving up for a new vape) which are bigger than the average joint and therefore require more to fill them (a little over a gram per). But I usually split them with another person, or if not it takes me two sessions to get through one. Still, I have a bad habit of not smoking all the way down to the filter, mainly because the draw is so hot and it’s uncomfortable to inhale. So I grabbed a little tupperware container and would toss in the roaches “for a rainy day”. And now it was raining. I turned to the roach bin the other day to see what I had….. (more…)
This video has been getting a lot of attention recently, and for good reason. (Although not because it’s narrated by Annie Lennox, as I mistakenly thought when I first saw it). Annie Leonard breaks it down for you in 8 minutes – all the ways we are duped into buying what we think is cleaner, more exotic water. I admit, I bought bottled water for a few years when pop culture told me to, but it really didn’t take long to see a whole lot of money was being spent for……..WATER. I’m a bit of clean freak, so it never made sense to me that my tap water was good enough for cleaning but not for drinking? When I lived in Milwaukee, the tap water was good – it actually tasted better than bottled and we drank it happily for the last 4 years and saved a bundle of money. Sure, there were little floaty bits in the glass when the ice melted, but they didn’t hurt me none. The tap water here in Vegas is fine as well, and since there is a filter on the fridge, there are no floaty bits in the ice. I travel quite a bit so I make a habit of trying the tap water in different cities, and really the only two places in recent memory where I can say I didn’t like the smell/taste of the water would be Boston and Houston. Boston water is soft as hell AND it added an extra 30 minutes to my hair time every morning. Houston water (which I grew up with) is a little hard and smells like chlorine, I was stocking those 3 gallon Sparklettes bottles in my kitchen for years. But if I was moving back there today I would definitely stick a water filter on the tap and call it a day.
Recession or not, it’s a hard world out there in general, and there are few things I hate more than turning away eager job applicants. As a sub-middle-management type (more like the hiring front lines), I am inspired with a great deal of pathos on a regular basis. I’ve placed a few Monster ads seeking administrative support in my time, which basically makes me a combat veteran (never again).
I’ve suffered the Walmart cashiers applying for highly-specialized technical roles, and the desperate immigrants with PhDs applying for janitorial jobs in a pitiful bid to stay in-country. Having all these people call you on the phone to plead their cases will make you want to claw your soul out, as you have no lifeline to throw them; your false words of encouragement ring in jaded ears, and you reveal yourself as yet another, seemingly heartless, dead end. Never include your contact number, for your own sake.
I don’t often find mirth in poorly-written resumes, or people battling for positions above or below their qualifications. Mostly, it makes me feel sad, and then lucky to have a job, whether I like it or not. In times like these, a good friend and I sometimes turn to a certain resume that made its way to our inboxes some years ago, and I have decided to share it with you here.
It goes without saying that names and locations have been changed to protect the witless. However, the content remains unchanged, and so does, I hope, the enterprising spirit of one Miss Petunia Alexander:
I guess like most people I think magicians are kinda douchey, although I always wish I knew what the secret to the trick was. This guy doesn’t do any stage glittered theatrics, just a cool card trick that I would like to know the secret to.
Okay, we might as well give up. Because no one is getting any work done today, not if you have a working internet connection and can read. Eldrick Tont “Tiger” Woods, Golfer Extraordinaire and Stupid Fucker of the Year is the hot topic for today after one of his mistresses stuck it to him by releasing a hilarious and damning series of text messages she says she received from the Fool.
Sports fans, head over to Deadspin for the original and where you will appreciate some of the comments. Actually, I’m a bit disappointed in DS today, the early comments were cracking me up but the later ones are just weak.
But VirusWithShoes from Wordsmoker has taken liberties with the texts and has posted his version which has me howling with laughter. Observe: (more…)
A few months ago I started taking weekly classes in hand-to-hand combat. I needed some exercise, hate gyms, fantasize about being an action star, and “have a lot of aggression,” so it seemed pretty logical. I’ve also been assaulted in real life and nurse an obsession with horror films and literary thrillers; I am fully alert to the presence of danger! walking down a city street and have a tendency to plot evacuation points whenever I am in a room for a prolonged period of time, so why not put all this occasionally justifiable paranoia to use and actually learn how to defend myself rather than just fantasizing about it?
The classes have been everything I hoped for and more. I mix it up by attending beginner’s-level classes to work on my basic skills and advanced-level classes for variety. While already outnumbered 10:1 in beginner’s, I am usually the only woman in advanced classes, and I thrive on it. Aware that I may be regarded as weaker, more delicate, and less intense (and therefore an undesirable sparring partner) intensifies my aggression and need to prove myself.
I am not just a girl, I think, I am a threat. I may be physically weaker, but I can be faster, smarter, and unexpected, and that is what makes me more dangerous. It’s getting into a mindset that I think will serve me well in life in general. Focus, train, emphasize your strengths, protect your weaknesses, and if ever cornered and in doubt, go for the balls. Hard. (Note: That’s not the playground tip – read on).
Particularly in the advanced sessions, I am often outclassed by people who have been training months and even years beyond my experience. Almost all these guys are gracious partners and, while still challenging me, offer useful tips and assistance. In turn, I do my very best to learn from them and give them the opportunity to get the training they are paying for by being a good partner (and it is a lot easier to attack than defend, so I think I do alright).
And sometimes I get the shit kicked out of me, if it’s a good class. What follows are a lot of pictures of bruises, and a few thoughts on the nature of injury. (more…)
