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Household Hazardous Waste

Nov 24th, 2009 by

I have a milk-crate of hazardous waste on the back porch right now.

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At least 90% of this hoard came to me through no fault of my own; it was just hanging around the basement of my old house when I bought it in 2003 and I’m still trying to get rid of it.

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There are two bottles of Carbona Spot Remover, which is do-it-at-home dry cleaning fluid. There’s a story in some Southern Gothic novel about a little girl who bursts into flames at a bar-b-que because her fastidious mother had over-enthusiastically treated her dress with this stuff.

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There’s about half a pound of “ACME” brand chlordane dust. I can’t imagine this is good stuff to keep around.

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Sinclair insecticide. I’m pretty sure this is a quart of DDT. There are three of them.
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Active Ingredients 100%

“P. D. has a pleasant odor. It does not stain.”

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Your money’s worth or your money back.”

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The crown jewel of the box-o-tox is this vintage bottle of mange treatment. It appears to be intended for human use, as there’s a note on the back of the bottle advising the purchaser to consult enclosed directions for animal use:
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One of the active ingredients in Glover’s Imperial Sarcoptic Mange medicine is tar oil, and that is the top note in this particular noxious bouquet.

The Byzantine and mutable schedules of the Household Hazardous Waste collection sites have been thwarting me and my desultory attempts to rid myself of this shit for actual years now. Granted, I will admit that I haven’t been strongly driven to get rid of this fine vintage collection of solvents, poisons, paints, and potions. In part because of the whole “out-of-sight, out-of-mind” factor, but mostly because it is a basic pain in the ass to get rid of the Hazardous Wastes via legal channels.

The drop site near my old house is open “Thu., Fri. and Sat., 9 a.m. to 4 p.m.
Appointment required.” Yeah. Right. I have tried to make appointments three times, and the first two times I couldn’t get through to a live person, a the third, I got through, but they didn’t have staff available for the day I had free to schlep poison to the East Bottoms. They didn’t used to require an appointment, but there was also nobody there when went out there. Believe me, I tried every time I went to drop off recycling for about two years. I’d load up the old Jetta with glass and plastic and phone books and my crate-of-volatile-liquids, drop off all of the recyclables, and to get rid of the poisons. No dice!

Now, you could theoretically arrange to meet somebody there to take possession of your poison, but in actuality and reality there’s still nobody there to accept your hazardous waste.

The drop site near where I live now is open “Third Saturday of the month (April-Oct.), 8:30 a.m -1 p.m.” so that ship has already sailed.

It becomes strikingly difficult to conduct yourself in the manner of a responsible, law-abiding citizen in this atmosphere and I am more than half tempted to take this box of chemical warfare up to the drop site near my old house and just leave it on their doorstep.

Posted in grumbles gripes and pointless bitching, Oh, for fuck's sake | 1 Comment »

better than I expected

Nov 21st, 2009 by

Today started out a little frustrating. I took off from home to head to work, and heard a weird noise coming from my back wheel. Turns out a staple had made itself at home in the tread of my tire. I tried to pull it out, but one of the ends broke off in the tire. Woe befell me because my multitool doesn’t have a pliers within its foldy embrace. Fortunately, I was only about halfway down the hill, so I turned around and hurried back to the house to grab another bike. By the time I hit the top of the hill, my back tire was entirely flat.

Good thing I turned back.

By this time, I was in a red-hot hurry, as I hadn’t left the house with much wiggle room in my travel time. I grabbed the Burley and took off again. I busted a move on my way to work and got in JUST ahead of the time clock. Whew!

Besides being the right tool for the job when the job is “get there ASAP,” the Burley is just hella fun to ride and I always wonder why I don’t ride it more.

I’ll be riding it again later this evening to meet up with Joel and some of his work friends to celebrate one of their birthdays. It will get me from the Hill down to the 39th Street restaurant district in fine style.

I guess I don’t ride the Burley that often because it is kind of overkill to ride it to work. It’s like commuting with a Porsche. I mean, yes, you can do it, but it’s kind of a mundane use for an exquisite machine.

Also, even though I bought that damn bicycle four years ago, I still sometimes feel like it is way too fancy of a bike for the likes of me. I feel a little bit self conscious about riding such a posh bike; like a total poseur Fred. Especially now that the bike has been entirely Michelleified, and has flat-bars, BMX pedals, and a bell!
damn diva
7-2-05
My Burley, as it has evolved
11-21-09
It has evolved a little bit! Got rid of those awful, stiff Easton wheels, got a different seat that doesn’t crack my cooter, dropped the drop bars, got some better pedals. People sometimes look at me a little cockeyed because my bike is so odd but it works so much better for me this way. I never was able to get the hang of riding with drop bars; also the integrated shifters (Shimano 105s) were too bulky and my shrimpy little paws were just too short to shift or brake properly with them.

Wow, the sofa has sure suffered in the intervening 4 years! Note to self: after Minnie & Griz, no more damn cats.

Anyway, I have a lot of fun riding this bike, and I should get over myself and my ridiculous and artificial hangups about it and ride it more frequently!

In general I have really been enjoying my commute lately. The weather has been so delicious. It is cool out, and dampish, but not cold nor wet enough to be uncomfortable. Instead it feels refreshing. It has not been cold enough to freeze the ground yet, so it still smells nice and earthy outside. Fallen leaves are decomposing, which adds a sweetness to the ambient scent of the great outdoors. It’s “Two-Sweater-Weather” right now. If you wear two stout sweaters, that works out perfectly. A jacket will only generate sweat, but it is too cold for only one sweater or just a regular shirt. Two sweaters, an earband, and a fairly stout pair of gloves have been my weather-beaters these days and it’s been exactly perfect. Well, my head gets too warm, ’cause I’m back to wearing the easter-egg helmet and headlight combo, and my beautiful Nutcase helmet doesn’t ventilate worth a crap. This little helmet is as cute as it could possibly be, but it sure steam-cooks my headmeats.
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I have to wear the earband or my ears would get cold and start to ache from the wind, but the upper part of my head gets WAY too warm. This will be a problem until it gets cold for real. Then, I will be glad to have such a marginally ventilated helmet.

Posted in "Greenie II", bike commuting, Burley, Cats, Playing With Weather | No Comments »

Biz Cas Fri

Nov 20th, 2009 by

Back when I was in high-school, I couldn’t imagine what the hell people wore who couldn’t wear jeans every day. What other clothes are there besides jeans and tee-shirts, or maybe jeans and a sweater if it is cold out? Dresses? Eeeurgh! I remember one of my aunts being happy her office had instituted a jeans-Friday rule (this was early 1990s) and I thought she was just so deprived because she had to “dress up” every day.

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thrift scores 104
Today I wore this top and that skirt, white “lace” tights, and black mary-jane flats, a pink rosette brooch, and a yellow Alice band and was utterly girly to the max. Back in high-school, I would never have believed that I would EVER wear something like this. Today, I felt quite chipper because I was wearing such a cute and colorful outfit. My, how the times have changed for me.

When I got my first office job when I got back from England, I had a hard time adjusting to midwestern office fashion. Basically, at the place where I worked, the culture was that of wearing khakis and polo shirts, and I don’t wear polo shirts. And I no longer wear khakis. Pants that are the same color as my legs are just a bad idea, is all I’m sayin’. My “personal style” was a lot too funky and occasionally a bit too revealing. I was still recovering from my Ginger Spice phase. I hadn’t yet figured out how to dress in a manner that is fit for work but is also still fun and personalized. I didn’t really start to hit my stride in office-friendly fashion until I sailed past my 26th birthday and realized that there might be a sell-by date for dressing like a slutty Pippi Longstocking on the regular.

As the years have passed, I have been wearing jeans less and less and less. For most of the jobs I have had post-college, jeans were unacceptable in the office, except (in some cases) on Friday. When you can’t wear jeans on the regular, there’s no incentive to have very nice ones, so any jeans I’ve had have mostly been scrubby old beaters for bumming around in on the weekend. I’ve got the pair I made ages ago (the ones that dyed my butt and cute underpants blue that one time), but they’re pretty faded and “broken in” now.
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So much so that there are now patches on the butt and left knee.

reasonably acceptible.
My other pair are a pair of GAP jeans (that I should have bought at least one more pair of before they changed styles). They don’t look that good, but they are really comfortable and they cover my butt entirely, and a fully-clad butt is pretty important to me.

So I have two pair of jeans, but I feel a little self-conscious about wearing the daisy-butt jeans out anywhere much, so functionally, I have one pair of jeans.

Why am I on about jeans?

Because the big-big buzz in the office right now is that this coming week, in an effort to raise money for a food pantry or to acquire canned goods for said food pantry, the employees at my workplace are allowed to wear jeans on any day they either donate $1 or a can or box or nonperishable food. My co-workers are all a-twitter and jubilant, being all stoked to be able to wear jeans. I’m much less moved, since I am having way more fun wearing pretty much anything-but-jeans. I did the jeans-and-a-tee-shirt thing for so many years, and I just don’t really feel put-together in jeans. In this office, we’re not allowed to wear jeans on Fridays, which is a matter of much grumbling contention among many of my co-workers, but again, I don’t feel like I have a dog in that race. I don’t feel like I’m being deprived by a denim ban. There are so many other more interesting options out there.

This coming week, I reckon I’ll donate some bucks to the charity campaign, but I’ll probably continue on wearing other things entirely. Just because I am technically allowed to wear jeans doesn’t mean that I have to.

Also, if anyone is wondering what the hell is going on with the title of this entry, Strongbad can explain.

Posted in dumb things I have done, Fashion | No Comments »

Like ohmygod you guys, I’m SOOOOO excited!

Nov 17th, 2009 by

I just about don’t know what to do with myself!

The Lincoln Park Trixie Society is apparently poised to make its triumphant return to the Internet.

About freakin’ time, ladies!

For those of you who are scratching your heads and wondering what foolishness I’m obsessing about now, I’ll give it to you straight-and-dirty. The Lincoln Park Trixie Society (Or LPTS, as it will henceforth be known) was a satirical website purporting to be the homepage of a social sorority for the up-and-coming young yuppie women of Chicago’s trendy Lincoln Park neighborhood. It was well enough written and close enough to the public perception of fashionable young strivers that many people actually took the website to be serious and were either outraged or wanted to join the club. The original LPTS site was active between late 2000 & early 2004, when it was still realistically possible to be both well-to-do and 20-something, and the high-living exploits of the fictitious clubwomen were what many midwestern college girls planned to indulge in ASAP. For the LPTS was presumed to be composed almost strictly of post-college midwestern girls who were bound and determined to live a life of fashionable excess in the midwest’s most magnetic city, Chicago.

Anyway, sometime in 2004, the LPTS closed its virtual doors, and for the past five years, if you went to the LPTS url, you got a picture of an angry girl in an orange sweatshirt striding along above the words, “Coming soon, a smashing new website for Chicago’s most elite social organization.” or something to that effect. Even though the site had been dead for ages, I still would check in on it every once in a while, just to see if either the URL would die completely, or (best case scenario) the “coming soon” would finally come to pass. Well, I checked back in just recently and watched the music video of vignettes of idyllic LPTS activities, and saw that they intend to re-open shop sometime in Fall of ’09, a season we are now well into. If, indeed, the LPTS is returning, I’m just as pleased as I don’t know what! I love this kind of satire.

The backlash-ish against the LPTS back in its day reminds me of the backlash that had been against Helen Fielding’s wildly famous and wildly popular Bridget Jones’s Diary. BJD, as I read it, is a lovely satire that basically illustrates what a woman would become if she took literally ALL of the love, diet, and fashion advice in the more mainstream type of women’s magazines (obvs. Bitch & Bust are totally not included in this survey). Bridget is the consummate Cosmo Girl.

But some people (regular readers and literary critics alike) took Bridget seriously and considered her the harbinger of the collapse of Western Society. Good lord, what would happen if impressionable girls considered her a role model? She has a lousy work ethic, considers herself incomplete without a man, drinks and smokes too much, follows disordered eating patterns, etc. I remember reading the outcry and thinking that people were placing an excessive amount of import on what was essentially a fluffy chick-lit book.

The first time I read BJD, I took it at face value – as a fictitious diary of a lovelorn airhead, and considered it a good light read. But I kept thinking back on Bridget’s behavior, habits, and thought processes, and thinking that somehow she seemed awfully familiar. Then it struck me: Bridget Jones is what would happen if somebody truly took all of the advice columns in magazines and cheap self-help books seriously. On a second reading, it all became clear!

An old friend of mine, Susannah, used to self-medicate with cheesy romance novels (Mills & Boone) and glossy fashion/lifestyle magazines when she was stressed or depressed, and soon many of us in the dorm came to understand the wisdom of this practice and would borrow back issues of Cosmo, Mademoiselle, Marie Claire, and Vogue and pore over photos of beautiful dresses, glamorous vacation locales, and stories of the exotic lives of the rich-and-famous. We’d flippantly fill out the quizzes (“What Kind Of Lover Are You?”) and howl over the sex advice tips, which basically all boiled down to “give blowjobs…guys really like that.” We never took any of it seriously at all, but from our glossy-mag indulgences, I got a feeling for what girly-girls were supposed to think and act like, if you were to take Conde Nast’s word for it.

I don’t know about you guys, but I know I’ll be checking back to the LPTS page occasionally and hoping to see something more substantial than just the music video, charming though it undoubtedly is.

Posted in Distractions | No Comments »

Five solid reasons why I don’t do Karaoke:

Nov 16th, 2009 by

And I’m not counting the fact that I can’t sing for shit.

The five reasons I can’t and won’t do Karaoke are that basically, the only songs I know well enough to sing are:

1. meant to be sung horribly
2. really annoying
3. socially inappropriate
4. too obscure to be on a Karaoke playlist
5. the best of all possible worlds: all of the above.

To illustrate:

1. Mother’s Lament – Cream

Meant to be sung badly, socially inappropriate, obscure 3/5

2. Woo-Hoo – The 5-6-7s

Annoying, obscure 2/5

3. Alienation’s For The Rich – They Might Be Giants
Alienation’s For The Rich
This one is so obscure apparently that there aren’t even any shitty FMVs on You Tube using this as the backing track. Obscure, semi-socially inappropriate 1.5/5

4. Lake Of Fire – The Meat Puppets

Meant to be sung badly, obscure, semi-socially-inapproprate 2.5/5

5. Boobs A Lot – The Fugs

annoying, socially inappropriate, meant to be sung badly, obscure…this song is the supreme winner and most important reason why I should never be allowed near a karaoke machine after a drink or two. Because I would think it was funny and a good idea to sing the boobs-a-lot song, and I’m pretty sure that it would all end in a serious breach of the peace.

Edited to add:

5.5 Dead Kennedys – Too Drunk To Fuck

Need I say more? This hits all of the qualifications. Rude lyrics, not popular enough to be on the Karaoke machine, made to be sung by someone who can’t sing, even slightly annoying. This song makes me happy beyond all belief.

Posted in Distractions, Utter Silliness | No Comments »

Chariot chaos

Nov 15th, 2009 by

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Half of a grocery cart, laden with a passenger, being towed behind a bicycle makes a pretty distinctive sound. A grinding, rattling, metallic rumble, sometimes accented with whoops, yelps, shrieks, and cursing.

Like this, basically.

We’d convened on Friday night as planned in Korruption, a fine and choice dive bar in the West Bottoms. It’s in an *awesome* old building and has a really, really pretty tile floor:
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It also has a really fab tin ceiling.

Jonesie was so inspired by it as a potential venue that last I knew, he was considering it as a possible spot for a future stationary sprint race. Apparently, they do burlesque shows in there sometimes. I’m going to have to find out when the next one is and go, ’cause there ain’t much better than dancin’ girls, if they’re good and campy and have cute outfits.

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Danimal’s chariots were like the Cadillacs of the shopping-cart chariot world.

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This one is basically like the Chevy Vega of shopping cart chariots. Not as explosively dreadful as a Pinto, but rather sad and pathetic nonetheless.

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Jevon prudently and uncharacteristically be-helmeted, hitches up behind Christi for a wild ride.

bad idea(s)
These two chowderheads tried to take off while hanging on to the same rope, but it didn’t really work out too well.

typical Joel greeting
Here’s Joel greeting Jones with typical exuberance.

I asked Dan for a menacing pose.
A piratical Danimal brandishes the bopping stick.

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F.C. can be observed recovering from plowing smack into Christi’s extremely solid folding bicycle. I’ve never known anyone with such an unbridled disregard for his own personal wellbeing as F.C. This guy will crash headlong into all sorts of inadvisable objects and pop back up, still grinning.

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Would you want to tank into this? I thought not!

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Corrina’s showing Brian the ropes (hur hur hurrr)

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Danimal probably won the most races of anyone, so he’s the theoretical champion. I say theoretical ’cause this event was pretty ad hoc and nobody got it together to keep score or anything, and I didn’t come up with any prizes, ’cause I’m a shitty “promoter.” But Dan & his brother invented this sport, and so he gets major props just for that. And he’s a REALLY good charioteer and driver. I rarely feel like I am going to die when I’m riding behind Dan, and he doesn’t cross up on you, overtake you, or slingshot so much that he knocks your rear end out from under you. As I said, he’s ace at the sport, so he pretty much deserves his theoretical championhood.

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As predicted, Melissa took to chariot racing like a duck to water and was equally joyful as driver or charioteer.

results of mixing boozing, charioteering, & photographyfirst blood
There were two minor injuries. The dude who dinged his knee hit the pothole and endo-ed, which is a hazard in the parking lot where we started. After we got run off by the cops we found a much better parking lot where we’ll race again next time.
Anyway.
Jevon’s injured elbow happened for much more colorful reasons. He was riding behind Jones in the chariot, clutching Jonesie’s camera and taking pictures of their career around the track. Jones took a corner a little hot & slingshotted Jevon into a rollover. ‘Cause Jevon wasn’t holding on or really steering, he had no chance of saving himself and rolled ass over teakettle along with the chariot. But he saved the camera AND got his shot.

So, I hope this kind of tells the story of the night of Sweet Chariot Racing. We were disorganized, there was mild drunken mayhem, a visit from a very nice policewoman, lots of chariot racing, and plans for future, better events.

Posted in Adventures, biking, dumb things I have done, Party, Photo entries, Utter Silliness | 1 Comment »

Ferret!

Nov 15th, 2009 by

I’ll be back later on to write up the Chariot races, but in the meantime, please enjoy one of my new favorite videos on the entire Internet:

It’s kind of like the old Hamster Dance, but better. With ferrets! And Weezer(ish).

For comparison.

And now, I’m off, to go be a productive member of society.

As far as you know!

Posted in Distractions, Utter Silliness, videos | No Comments »

Things I wish you didn’t need to be told:

Nov 12th, 2009 by

Years ago, there was an online advice column called Etiquette Grrls, wherein two kind of snotty preppy girls dished out snarky etiquette and lifestyle advice to a clueless write-in audience. Then, they got a book deal and published two different etiquette books titled Things You Need To Be Told, and More Things You Need To Be Told.

The nub and thrust, as it were, of my entry today is that I wish these two women were still live with the Q&A column, ’cause I have the weirdest etiquette quandary and I need to ask SOMEONE, preferably someone who manages to be both tactful and witty about how to handle this one.

What, if anything, should I say when people call in and are eating loudly into the phone?

It not only grosses me out, it drives me damn near frantic to have to endure a phone call with someone who is gnashing on chips, beavering their way through an apple, or smacking on chewing gum. Or eating anything else and chewing with their mouth open or talking with it full. It’s fucking disgusting and civilized people shouldn’t do shit like that!

This one gal today, I am pretty sure was noshing on an apple, and it was LOUD, with lots of crunching and slurping, right in my ear. Moreover, her call was long and complicated, so I couldn’t get rid of her in a timely fashion. And all the while, I was cringing, seething, and imagining hunting her down, snatching the apple from her hands, throwing it out the window, and rantingly delivering a few home truths about people who eat loudly into the phone while conducting business calls.

If there’s any reasonably polite and effective way to ask people to not eat-and-phone, I’d sure as hell love to know what it is.

Posted in grumbles gripes and pointless bitching, Work/career (vague as to avoid doocing) | 4 Comments »

Big weekend coming up:

Nov 11th, 2009 by

I know I’ve mentioned it, but the ad-hoc chariot races are on for Friday. It’s so official, there’s even a Facebook thingy for it. I’m so stoked I can hardly think straight…this is top quality stupidity on offer here.

Then on Saturday, the season opener for the KC Roller Sprints kicks off at Harling’s. Should be good times. I’m gonna bring a little cash and do a little heads-up spinning. I might even wear lightweight shoes!

Joel’s going to be off on a Dirty Kanza scouting ride with Jim and the Emporia crew, so he’ll miss the sprints, but on Sunday, they’ll be enjoying the highlights of Flint Hills gravel and scenery, so I expect it all balances out in the end.

I’ve been giving the DK200 a bit of thought. I’m gonna give it another try. I know I can finish it…I just need to pace myself a little better and not get lost. Need to push myself a little harder. I’ve got some training rides in mind for winter and spring, and I just want to finish. That’s all. Finish!

I’ve also been giving some “serious” thought to the Trashboat Regatta for 2010. I’ve got every intention of making that event bigger, sillier, and better than before. I’m going to be trying to invite a lot of good mad-inventors to participate and trying to get the word a little further out and about. Since the inaugural Regatta went off without many hitches, and with nary an injury, there’s a certain amount of precedent. If two bike dorks whose “boats” were built the night before and a quartet of drunken art students can navigate down four miles of the Missouri River & not kill themselves, I think a wider population can expect at least similar levels of success. That’s one of the angles that I intend to promote.

Posted in Adventures, dumb things I have done, Party, Trashboat Shenanigans | No Comments »

Cling tenaciously to my buttocks!

Nov 10th, 2009 by

Apparently driving a stickshift one day re-trains me immediately.

It’s pretty well established that I don’t drive much. It stresses me out, I get lost, etc. But when we were up visiting my folks, I drove Dad’s Jetta – we needed to go in to town and pick some stuff up, and Dad wasn’t up to driving, being in a sling after rotator-cuff surgery. Joel doesn’t drive stick, and Mom’s car (or Joel’s truck) is a little small for three people when one of the three is 6’5″. So, the Jetta, with me at the wheel, it was.

Dad’s Jetta is a 1990, two-door, Diesel sedan. It’s a little boxy piece of business that basically looks like a Rabbit with a trunk, which is basically what it is. But it gets about 40mpg and it goes pretty well for an old Diesel, so there you go. And while it’s kind of a lackluster little car, Dad quite likes the thing, truth be told.

So I drove the Jetta up to and around in Chadron and back home without incident.

Then, today, I had to drive Joel’s truck, ’cause I’m having a mysterious lung complaint and tried to go see a doctor about it (more later) and kept accidentally brake-checking the darn thing, going for a clutch that isn’t there. ONE trip in the damnable Jetta, and I’m back to habitually driving as if the automatic transmission was never invented.

So. About the lung complaint.
I don’t know what it is. Probably some sort of congestion-bred bacterial infection clogging up the ol’ bronchial tubes. Whatever it is, I’ve been coughing like I have hairballs to no good effect and feeling slightly winded all the time. Not full-blown asthma-attack territory, but definitely lung-y. As if an asthma attack is an option that my lungs would be willing to consider if I don’t concede to their demands, whatever those might be. So I thought I’d go to the walk-in pseudo-doctor in CVS and see if they would agree to antibiotic me up upon request. But when the NP there heard the big “A” word, she said there was nothing she could do to me and told me to get my not-as-yet-wheezing lungs down to an urgent-care clinic.

Turns out there’s an urgent care clinic on my way to work, so I’m going to stop in there tomorrow on my way to work and hope they can get me in and out quickly and deal with whatever evil is festering in my chest.

The bummer thing about today’s pseudo-doctor experience is that it went the same way pretty much EVERY trip I’ve ever made to the doctor goes. The Doctor/NP/Quack is almost invariably utterly dismissive of my concerns, doesn’t listen, or insists that something else is the matter with me.

The doctor-person today insisted that I was suffering from the flu, though I have not had a fever, chills, or achy joints. What I have had was a cold…I am almost certain of it. I started off with a sore throat, then I got really snotty and sneezed a LOT. Then I had a lot of coughing and head and chest congestion, which I still have. Only the chest part has gotten worse. Enough so that I am kind of concerned, ’cause I’ve had this happen before and I ended up going to the ER with a full blown asthma attack, plus bronchitis. Twice before. I know what it feels like. I know what it the matter with me. I have experience with these things. To be told that something entirely different is ailing me, when I am almost 100% certain of what is wrong with me is dismissive, obnoxious, and unhelpful.

What I most likely need, and what will probably be prescribed for me, is a dose of antibiotics to kill off the infection, and possibly a stronger inhaler for the meanwhile. What I got today was a lot of attitude from their quasi-doctor and 10 sheets of computer print outs for various urgent-care offices in the region, which I could have gotten for myself, at home, in 1/3 of the time.

Anyway, I’m not terrible bad off and should be able to get this taken care of tomorrow morning before work. Assuming the urgent-care doc doesn’t brush me off and tell me to go to the ER and waste even more of my time and money.

Oh, and the title for today’s entry? That’s a line from an old Ren & Stimpy cartoon with Powdered Toast Man. PTM had rescued the Pope and was giving him a lift back to the Vatican. PTM only flew backwards, and had perched the Pope on his rear and instructed the Pope to “cling tenaciously to (PTM’s) buttocks.”

Shit, I can’t describe/recap this properly. You’ve just got to watch it. Just watch it. All will become clear.

So, have you watched it? We’re clear now?

Okay, so today I’m wearing a pair of jeans I made…brown corduroy “skinny jeans,” and they do mighty-mighty things for my rump.
New Brown Corduroy Jeans
So, I remarked to Joel that these jeans “cling tenaciously to my buttocks,” which in fact they do.

And since then, for the rest of the day so far, the phrase “cling tenaciously to my buttocks” has been roving around my poor, addled brain. I thought I could possibly purge it via this entry, so there you have it.

Posted in Car Drama and trauma, grumbles gripes and pointless bitching, Oh, for fuck's sake | 1 Comment »

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