Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Hold the Mayo

Hubbo, reading Burger King advert for new burger: "It's what woohoo tastes like."
Me: "I thought woohoo tasted like pussy."
Him: "That's two different tastes."
Me: "God, I hope so."
Him: "Why? What's wrong with beef and cheddar?"
Me: *flat stare*

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Just Stuff

So much has been happening, I don't even know where to begin. In the past 2 weeks I've hugged both a helicopter and a former pro wrestler (they were roughly the same size), gone parasailing over the ocean, had some quality time with family, paid too much for someone to make my hair look like it did in 1987, and sunburned my ankles. *Just* my ankles, nothing else.

I got deliriously hyper at an airshow, ate a lot of southern food (I love going places where you simply say "tea" and they bring you sweet iced tea, because that is the default and that's the way it SHOULD be, dammit) and got beach sand in the cracks. I almost miss that, to be honest. Also, beach hair is the best.

The little things in life make me the happiest. The problem is that getting TO those little things tends to cost big money. We'll be heading south again soon for the Official Vacation and I plan on partaking in as many little things as I can. Like the simple joy of having boiled peanuts to eat on the boat, along with a cold Coke... watching the dolphins (the critters, not the team)... knowing that someone who yells "GO COCKS!" is a local football fan, not a freak... hearing people say things like "I really shoulda taken a picture of that hog before we ate him"... the smell of rain and salt air mixed... sitting on the porch with a good book... Waffle House patty melts and Bojangles dirty rice... and a family so crazy-funny that comedians should be paying them for the privilege of listening to them for a few hours.

Until then I'm here with non-sweet tea and the occasional horse-and-buggy tied to the telephone pole downstairs. Yeehaw, y'all.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Fringe

I love to travel. I love seeing different places and people, getting into the vibe of an event away from home, connecting in some superficial way with others there doing the same thing.

That's the keyword: connecting. When I'm in a strange city, I'm not the only outsider. I'm not the only one who has no clue how to read the transit map, who stops to stare at the architecture, who pays attention to the kid beating on plastic buckets for quarters. I'm not the only one who takes pictures or raves over the local cuisine. I belong, simply because I don't belong.

I like being part of a bigger something. I like knowing that others are all connected, whether it's at a concert or outdoor market or tourist attraction, knowing that all of us are there for the same reason and thus we all have at least that one thing in common. Even when someone else simply stops to watch the kid play bucket-drums, that's one tiny thing we share even if we don't acknowledge it.

I've been in my tiny speck on the map for eleven years, and I'm still an outsider here. This was made apparent to me recently when I was snubbed for not knowing who the subject of a local fundraiser was, nor that he'd been killed the night before in an accident. "Everyone knows so-and-so," someone said, in that tone that indicated "everyone" meant "you obviously aren't from here or you'd know, and you're nobody if you're not local."

I'll always live on the fringe. Even if I had kids in the schools and attended church socials and fundraisers and town meetings, I'd always be From Somewhere Else. And I'll always be wanting to visit somewhere else, someplace I can connect with total strangers instead of being labeled by the neighbors. I'll never be completely happy here. I want this to be Home but I'll always feel like a guest. Aren't we all guests on this rock anyway?

Wednesday, September 01, 2010

Twitter. Or, Catching Up To The Power Curve

I've always been behind when it comes to the latest technology, fad, meme, etc.
I was on Friendster when everyone else had moved to MySpace, and still fought with MySpace when Facebook became the rage. I had a TracFone when everyone else I knew rocked smartphones. I drove a 1985 Buick when others had 2000-something vehicles with OnStar and GPS and satellite radio and traction control. I was going out clubbing when my friends were having babies and talking about diaper rash and chicken pox. And I was still wishing highwaisted jeans would come back in style because seriously, my butt never looked better than it did in Z. Cavaricci and Jordache.

I think I've caught up somewhat, despite my aforementioned and continual love of caption-cats. I have a Facebook page, a car that's less than ten years old, a Droid phone, a laptop... still no kids but that's not going to change... still no highwaisted jeans either but maybe that's a fad better left alone, if the current revival of neon track suits and belted tank dresses is any indication.

Let me comment on the kids thing a minute. I like kids but does everyone over 30 who blogs have them? I suspect this is the norm, since most people my age have children and of course they're going to write about them. This, my blog, is an Over-30-Without-Children zone. It may not feature photos of Brandon's First Poop or recipes guaranteed to get your child to eat their carrots, but as a non-parent I can't relate to those things and won't pretend to do so. I will, however, occasionally rant about something child-related because being childless does not mean I'm automatically vetoed from bitching about someone's obvious lack of parenting skills/common sense, mmmkay? Stupid is stupid and even non-parents recognize this in most cases. (For examples, see the many Facebook-posted photos of babies holding beer and cigarettes and sporting THUG LIFE captions.)

In a lot of ways I'm still behind. I got a Twitter account a while back but didn't use it until recently. I have found some funny stuff on Twitter. The ability to convey a story in 140 characters or less is an impressive feat. What bugs me, though, is seeing a request from JackA to follow JohnB "because he's funny" or "because he's original" or whatever, and I go to JohnB's page and it's all @replies to other people. It's like reading a list of lame jokes sans the corresponding punchlines. Or Leno cliffs-notes. Am I missing something here?

In other ways I'm waaaay ahead of the game. I refer specifically to my friends and co-workers who don't own computers and only socialize face-to-face (wow, what a concept. It'll never catch on though.) Around here a pickup truck with a snowplow is more important than a computer, and the head-count of one's cattle is more of a status statement than the number of Facebook friends. Therefore I'm often at a loss when I try to explain something I saw online, only to be met with blank stares and the implication that I'm totally bullshitting because that's so far beyond someone's scope that there's no way it's true. I have a friend who recently discovered he could get nekked boob pictures on his cell phone and he's ridiculously happy about it. Can you imagine his reaction if he had an actual computer with internet access? Okay, yeah, maybe the 'net has too many people like that already. Nevermind.

Anyway. Off to be domestic and clean stuff. Clean! Stuff! Nao! BLEH.

Cocoa Pebbles rock. That is all.

It's Only Just Begun

I had an excruciatingly painful root canal today. Apparently I have a difficult-to-numb nerve or something. (It didn't help when the endodontist said to the hygienist "Did we hit something? Where is all that blood coming from?" Way to instill confidence, Doc.) So for all you people who said it's not the big painful deal everyone makes it out to be, here's a hearty FUCK OFF.

As a result I am operating at minimum efficiency, stressed out, and my nerves are completely shot. I tried to sleep but twitched too much to get any rest.

On the bright side, this should make the rest of a predicted sucky week seem less sucky. So there's that anyway. And once this week is over, I'll only have 13 days to go until I can get my beach fix. I can smell salt water already, and the ocean breeze mixed with the tantalizing aroma of jet fuel and afterburners. DA PLANE, BOSS! DA PLANE! Hellz yeah... airshows make me happy. A happy me is a wonderful thing, except when it borders on spastic giddiness. And that's pretty funny to anyone else watching so it's all good. We'll all be stupidhappy. You know they sell beer at airshows? I'm going to hug a helicopter.

Oh, right, the beach. Yeah... sand between mah toez, lil crabbies runnin' around, and the sudden screamworthy burn reminding me that my dumbass self shaved my legs right before hitting the saltwater. That's always fun. Can't wait!

Today a friend made plans to go to Las Vegas, which triggered a longtime desire of mine to see a certain performer there. Way back almost 20 years ago I got a People magazine with their annual "50 Most Beautiful People" article, and one of them was this amazingly hot and seemingly talented strap acrobat (he "flies" on leather straps... kind of a mixture of ballet, trapeze and Peter Pan on acid.) All these years I've wanted to go see him perform. Today I found a vid of his act on YouTube and now I've lost the desire. It was good, but not the spectacle I'm sure it was 20 years ago when strap acts weren't so common and wearing long hair and a g-string made him look hot instead of "desperately clinging to the illusion of youth."

Also, "leather strap act" has all kinds of connotations to the uninformed. Great band name. They can open for GWAR. Or Lady Gaga. Whichever.

The highlight of my day: getting Viva paper towels for a buck a roll. If you've ever bought them, you know that this is a very good deal. If you haven't, you're missing out on the ultimate paper towel experience. Trust me on this. Go to CVS and get 'em while they're on sale.

Speaking of drugstores, why don't any of them sell bridge mix anymore? I can't find any around here and I'm jonesing for the squishy fruit ones. I also had a wild craving for a popsicle today, one of those tropical creamsicles in the green flavor. I blame the meds.

So I've fidgeted and twitched the day away, and it's now after 1 AM and there's nothing good on Woot and I'm tired of screencapping SamWo making goofy faces and it's too late to run the vacuum even though I do my best cleaning at night and I'm almost out of ginger ale and something is prompting me to go outside and look at the stars for a while and reclaim a bit of inner (and hopefully outer) peace so I think I'm going to go get some quality porch time with the universe. When all else fails, look up.