So Hey, I'm Doing This Thing...

No, I'm not asking for money or anything like that.

But I am participating in NaNoWriMo (as "Dana the Biped," of course), and I could really use some help keeping on track.

So if I'm not averaging about 1,667 words a day, kick my ass, okay?

Giraffe Spit Smells Like Marigolds

Yesterday, my whole hand was in a giraffe's mouth.

This giraffe and I got up close and personal.  I know what it's spit smells like.

It was pretty much the best day of my life.

It's Official. I am Too Old to Understand the Concept of "Cool."

Tomorrow is my birthday.  Happy birthday, me!

Happy birthday to me
Happy birthday to me
I look like a monkey
So I'm glad you can't see!

The Dude pointed out that the milk in the fridge expires tomorrow.  "Yeah," I said.  "Everything goes bad then."

I went to a concert this weekend at a college bar.  There was a group of guys flexing for photos, and I saw a woman who appeared to be wearing an unironic, metal-studded G-string on her head.

I am officially to old to go to concerts at college bars.


(True:  I learned this week what c-string is.  They look... uncomfortable.)

I... I Don't Even Know What This Is. But It Scares Me.

I went to a charity event this weekend.

At this charity event, there was a raffle.

I bought a raffle ticket.

I won a prize.

It was a stuffed animal.

Sort of.

Except it was more like an alien, not an animal.

And it has testicles on its head.

Yep.  They really are connected by a long shaft.

Oh Yeah, I Know How To Party

Last night I had a beer with the Kirby salesmen who were trying to sell the Dude a vacuum.  I have the suspicion that an evening spent hearing a sales pitch isn't supposed to be entertaining, but it totally was.  Mostly because the Dude and I can have fun doing anything.

• Grocery shopping?  A grand hunting/gathering adventure.
• Long car ride?  Hours and hours and hours of pure conversational brilliance.
• Washing dishes?  Still not completely terrible.

Then again, it might have been the fact that it was other people cleaning the house that made last night so darn awesome.

And that we had beer.  That always helps.

Why I'm Too Grateful to My Body to Diet

I always knew my body was a capable one. 

I remember being small, and deciding that my family was waiting too long to put up our Christmas tree.  So I dragged the box--probably bigger than me at that point--carefully downstairs, negotiating several tight corners and a narrow, steep staircase--downstairs and set the thing up myself.  It became a tradition for me to do it, and early enough on that I don't remember how our family did the tree thing prior to that.

I remember how easily I'd get bored of my bedroom, frequently rearranging furniture for a change.  I almost wrote "quick change," but it wasn't a quick process at all.  I could only push or pull one end of my dresser a few inches at a time, walking it forward, and then moving my bed in the same manner.

In high school, in the season I didn't play a sport, I lifted weights for fun.  In field hockey season, we'd run miles during practice, much of it in a semi-squat.  (Yes, it's a bit of a different sort of sport.)  My idea of fun as a child was riding my bike up and down our dead-end road or horseback riding.  I never worried about whether my body was capable of accomplishing a task or participate in an activity.

I got sick my junior year.  It took a while to diagnose (an undifferentiated autoimmune disorder, which is what they diagnose you with when they know the problem is with your immune system but not what the actual cause is), and the first few months were frightening.  I became so accustomed to hearing the latest worst possible prognosis that I forgot that there was any other option.  This viewpoint was helped along by the chronic fatigue and pain I was dealing with at the time, and exacerbated by the fact that I was unwilling to give up a single activity, pushing my now-limited endurance far beyond what was reasonable.

Suddenly, playing field hockey was not just physically challenging, it was incredibly painful and exhausting.  There were days I was too sore or too tired to manage a flight of stairs.  I refused to give any extracurriculars up, so it was the norm for me to go from class to field hockey or softball practice to play practice to prefect duty and then home at 10:30 to start four hours of homework.  It kind of sucked there for a while.

I got my health under control my freshman year of college.  I was angry for a long time that I'd ever had to go through all that, but now, almost decade later, I see the experience differently.  My body made it through that mess as best as it could, even while I was ignoring what it needed to get healthy.  My body works hard for me, and I've gotten better at treating it right.  I eat better, sleep more, and call it quits when I'm running out of steam.  I try to be active, though I hate working out.  Since getting my health under control, I've climbed all the stairs of Notre Dame and tackled the Eifel Tower and huge national parks.  I live in a third-floor walk-up without a problem.  I got an air-conditioning unit up those three flights of stairs alone.  My body works.

So I'm not going to hate it just because my thighs touch or because my belly has a bit of squish.  It's been too good to me to turn on it for such a petty reason.  It's a (mostly) healthy body in a normal body fat range.  If that changes, I'll need to renew my dedication to treat my body well.  That doesn't seem to be what dieting is about.  The focus of dieting has always seemed to me to be deprivation--punishing yourself.  I owe my body better.  I used to worry about my weight all the time, constantly striving to keep it in check.  But I've come to realize:  this body of mine?

It's good.

This is the best news title ever...

"Drunk Man Assaults Stormtrooper, Ghostbuster On Free Comic Book Day, Gets Tased, Arrested By Police"

That's from Geekologie, which is pretty much where all my news comes from.

Gawker also has an article, plus this super-amazing ultra-awesome pic:

Via

This is why I love the Internet.


(True:  You should tell me when something awesome happens on the Internet.  You can find me, right over there, to the right.  --->)

(True:  80% of adults have trouble with left and right.  So I've provided you a helpful arrow!  not that I'm assuming my readers would necessarily be in the 80%.  You're definitely in the 20% just because you're here.)

Five Things That Make Me Stupid-Happy

5.  Ice cream and beer.

4.  Everything about this photo:

Via

3.  This painting of a chair that you can actually sit in:

Via

2.  The custard-filled, green-iced doughnut with star-shaped sprinkles I had for breakfast.

1.  The fact that an English teacher reached out to me to use this post as a supplement for her high school students.  Told you I was smart!


(True:  This weekend I am going to Six Flags and a con.  Happy dancing all around!)

A Hairy Situation: Vote on It!

It's damp and disgusting out, and I have a date tonight.

So I have three options:

1. I can leave my hair "as is" and go out with Hermione Hair.
2. I can spend thirty minutes straightening my hair.  It will look nice until the minute I step outside--then it will return to its natural state, Hermione Hair.
3. I can apply hot curlers, which takes very little time (I can finish getting ready while they set) and will hold all night.  This option will give me hair such as an '80s porn star's dreams are made of.

I don't feel like making any decsions today.  So I'm leaving it up to your vote.  Comment below, and I'll go with whatever has the most votes when I need to get ready.  I'll even post a photo!  (Of my real face, people.  This is unprecedented.  And goes to show my brain is incapable of rational thought today.)

Some Things I Just Can't Wrap My Head Around

I like Geekologie.  It's pretty much the place to go for your science news spun raunchy--that is, if you like your geek with a side of alcoholism.  And let's be honest:  who doesn't?

Today I learned two things I'm having a difficult time wrapping my head around.

First, the universe is 80 million years older than we'd thought.  Okay, in the grand scheme of the universe, that's not so hard to imagine.  The universe was already pretty frickin' old.  But the idea that it might have expanded from something smaller than an atom into, you know, the universe more-or-less as we know it?  In less than a second?

Whoa.

Because that means it expanded faster than the speed of light.  And that means time travel.  I know that because of movies.

And that's how you suddenly age 80 million years, Universe.  You've no one to blame but yourself.

And that brings a whole new meaning to A Wrinkle in Time.


I also learned Chuck Norris is a modern-day Samson.

The world gets weirder every day, yo.


(True:  I went to the Museum of Science and Industry this weekend.  So blame this post on the fact that I'm all smarted out.)

Pinterest, Don't Ever Change.

Pinterest is interesting.

In the last ten minutes, I've been introduced to a Batman Snuggie, a solar-powered bonsai tree, and someone in an absolutely ginormous panda costume being shoved through a too-small train car door by several police officers.

Via

(True:  I may want two of those things.  Guess which?)

You don't get it, and that makes it funnier. Because I am smart and a terrible human being.

Apparently, I have a somewhat, and occasionally, dry sense of humor.  This causes a fair bit of confusion for the people around me.

Some years ago, while prepping for an estate sale at my grandparents' house, one of the auctioneers showed me a large metal hoop and asked me if I knew what it was.

"Of course," I replied.  "It's clearly a thing."

She thought I couldn't think of the word and felt sorry for me.

And while most of the time I'm pretty excitable and freely use hyperbole to add color to my tales, sometimes the dry side of me kicks in and I employ a litotes (the opposite of hyperbole) or two.  This underwhelming technique still manages to go over a lot of heads.

So when a friend surprised me with beer and a movie I really wanted to see, my response was, "Oh, hey.  That's kind of cool, I guess."

Basically, my sense of humor makes people uncomfortable.

This makes my sense of humor better than yours.

FYI.


(True:  I also really like puns.  Here's my favorite joke:  Two fish are in a tank.  The one on the left goes, "How do I drive this thing?"  People laugh every time.  They can't help it.)

The More You Know

I try to learn something new every day.  I find it keeps my mind open and sharp.

Today I learned that a can of Mountain Dew that is mostly slush can still explode if you drop it--it's just a slow-motion explosion that lasts about ten minutes.

My life will be much richer for this information.  And my desk much stickier.


(Want to know how to traumatize me at 8:07 in the morning?  Give me a can of soda--sweet, sweet caffeine--that is puking like a slushie volcano.  And that's probably the most mixed metaphor I've ever conceieved.  You're welcome.)

It's Pretty Much the Greatest Thing Ever.

No, I'm not talking about mac and cheese.  This time.

I'm talking about When Curiosity Met Insanity.  It's a web comic, and it's slowly (but surely!)  telling the love story of grown-up Alice and the Mad-Hatter, Disney-style.  Yep, it sounds absurd.  But it's crazy-awesome-absurd.

Via

Now, imagine that Disneyland is the actual magical place where Disney movie character live.  Got it?  Good.  Now add a bunch of different characters from the animated movies, including a bumbling and sweet (not to mention kooky) Hatter, and a sassy Alice.  Oh, yeah, and excellent storytelling and artistry.

I have a lot of Internet obsessions, but this is one I've stuck with the longest.  Unfortunately, the extremely talented artists/creators don't update nearly as often as I'd like, but just when you think it's over, they really have abandoned the project--boom!  New chapter!  And life is amazing and I snortlaugh and check the blog compulsively every day until I realize I'm going to have to wait some more.

BUT, that being said, even for someone who isn't the biggest Disney fan out there, this is something special, and well worth the waiting.

You can find all the chapters here.


(True:  I would love for you to tell me what other Internet treasures I'm missing.  Because I don't piss away nearly enough of my life in front of my laptop as is.  No, seriously--tell me.)

If You've Ruined My French Fries, I Will Never Forgive You

Dude.

Someone found my blog for searching for the "consummation of potatoes in 2013."

I don't think I've ever hoped so fervently that a word did not mean what someone thought it meant.  Or is this a thing?  Like furries, but with root vegetables?

And how did that search phrase bring them here?!

Clearly, my blog has a niche readership.

I worry about you people sometimes.

Via

(True:  I am trying really hard to not judge you right now.)

It's My Two Hundred and Onest Post!

I woke up this morning with my cat's face so close, I could feel her breath on my eyelashes.

In other news, did you know Monday's post was my 200th?  Yeah, me neither.  But to all four of you who follow me, and have stuck around for the ride, thank you.

I started this blog because I'd recently adopted a three-legged puff of hair, and I wanted to do my part to raise awareness about how awesome dogs are, altered mobility or no.  I still try to do that with my "Hops in the Right Direction" series, but those are never my most popular posts.  That's okay.  You're stuck with it.

By far and away, my most popular post has been The Hunger Games and Nazi Germany: Visual Metaphor in the Film and Why It Works.  It's the post that got me a call-out from Neil Howe, who's kind of a hero of mine.  It's the post that made the first page of a Google search, and it's still the first for the search "Hunger Games Nazi Germany" (because I Google things that might bring up my blog like other people stalk their exes on Facebook).  Clearly I posted that on a good day.

I've also posted about a particularly bad day.  I forget what made it bad, but the hits on the post sure make me smile now.

I've given fashion advice and dating advice.  I've given more unsolicited reading advice than anyone probably ever wanted, but who cares?  Ian Beck, author extraordinaire, commented on my review!  (Which renders your complaints invalid, by the way.)

AND I gave away free copies of the world's most disturbing pinup calendar.  You know.  For charity.

All in all, it's been an amazing ride.  Thanks for sharing it with me.

Ready for the next leg of this road trip?

(Yes, that was a tripod joke.)

(Sorry.)


(True:  You guys are the best.  You're a little strange, but you're my favorite kind of strange.)

In Defence of Books

I have a collection, or a library.  Call it what you will, I have a lot of books, and I take a lot of pride in that.  I have a knack for choosing good ones in a number of genres.  (My reference collection is particularly eclectic and interesting.)  I've managed to get my hands on a number of unedited pre-release books, a few of which are now worth a fair bit of money.  I have a book by one of my favorite poets, signed just a few weeks before the man passed away.  I have books from friends that we use as an excuse to keep in touch, and I have books I've reread so often pages are falling out.

I recently got my first smart phone, and one of the first apps I downloaded was an e-reader.  It's fantastic, but there are reasons I will always love the "real thing" better...

A new book smells fresh and crisp, like possibility--and nothing can compare to the feeling of cracking a hardcover spine for the first time, and opening the book and yourself to a new world.  An old book smells a little musty and comfortable, like a well-broken-in couch.  It's familiar and cozy, and the plot and characters greet you like old friends.

A book finds a space in your home and settles in.  It never demands attention (until you actually start reading it, if it's a good one), and it never "helpfully suggests" you should be doing something better with your time.  It never gives you a hard time for what you do or how you do it or who you are--books provide a shelter against a world of people who all think you ought to be fundamentally different than you are.  A book never thinks you're too fat.  It never tells you that you're weird, or that you're bad at all the things you should be good at. A book never points out your perceived flaws, and it never makes you feel bad about who you are.

Instead, it gives you adventure, even though you're stuck in a cubicle all day.  It gives you characteristics to aspire to, even in a world where reality TV actors are considered role-models.  It gives you hope in happy endings and in the possiblity that the loose ends will all tie themselves up and that there will somehow be meaning, even though the news tells you all about how everything is going to hell and we're all doomed.

I've got a lot of books.  I've also got a lot of adventure, aspirations, and hope in my life.  And those are all Very Good Things.


(True:  You'll notice that when I do book reviews here, I only give positive reviews.  That's because I'm not going to waste my time reviewing a book I didn't like, and I'm not going to waste your time reading a review I don't think is worth your time.)

Watch This! 18 to Life

I'm not normally a fan of sitcoms.  I usually find them tired and contrived.  But every once in a while, a gem comes along like 18 to Life.

It's kind of like those shows where the teenage couple has illicit sex and the girl ends up pregnant, and they face the disapproval of their whole family and the drama that ensues.  Except here, the teenage couple gets married and has to face the disapproval of their whole family and the comedy that ensues.  And I actually like this--that's a pretty big difference, too.

(This is where I would post a photo, if Blogger let me.  Dammit.)

Tom and Jessie get married based on a game of Truth or Dare, and end up living in the attic of Tom's parents' house.  Which is right next door to Jessie's parents' house.  Tom's parents are rigid and conservative.  Jessie's are hippies who don't mow their lawn.  It's honestly a shock the six of them don't just kill each other in the first episode and call it a wrap.

It's a simple enough premise, which means the clever scripts and comedic skills of the cast can really shine through.  The plot doesn't try to overshoot itself, if that makes sense.  (I mean that as a strength.)  Jessie and Tom are silly, sometimes immature (though they try), and make a cute couple.  I think getting married at 18 is incredibly stupid, but I still find myself rooting for them.  Both sets of parents are believable in a "they do crazy things that stretch your belief, but then they turn around and do something so real that it grounds them firmly in the believable regardless of how crazy they act" kind of way.  The funniest parts of the show are when the four parents are all together--their dynamic is hilarious.

Sadly, the show only got two seasons (Netflix streaming has both), but every episode I've seen so far has actually, literally made me laugh like a loon.  Which is quite a feat, considering my hard, embittered heart.  But by far, my favorite aspect of the show is the sense of sincerity infusing it all, making it not only funny, but truly charming as well.

This is a good one, guys.  I'd recommend it highly.


(True:  Day two of ignoring Prada before I leave home, and she didn't bark at all.  Woohoo!)

Reason I Love My Job #848

My manager gave me beer for Christmas.


(True:  I'm headed up to AbominableSnowmanLand tonight--no promises that I'll post on Monday.  Have a safe and happy holiday, folks!)