little_tristan: (Rat)
Mark wanted to get up at work time so we'd be tired enough to go to bed early and get up on time tomorrow. It worked. I'm really tired. Being out of bed has its perks, though. Mark's washing the bedding. And yesterday I had my first shower in two weeks. Being clean is fun.

My shoulder hurts but that's not Mark's fault. Murphy slept on it funny. I don't much mind. It's better than not being slept on at all. How do people sleep without furry creatures being furry all over them? I used to know but I've forgotten.

I've decided to tweet DJ Qualls after every Legit ep, just in case they're factoring in viewer responses in deciding whether or not to renew it for next season. He didn't tweet back this week, but he did favorite it. Maybe it's a good tweet to show the network.

Still trying to sort out my feelings about this Michelle Shocked thing. I've admired her for so long, as a person and a musician, and now she's come out as a born again homophobe. One of the things I always admired in her music was the blend of modern life and old style Christianity. Of course I also kind of assumed she was gay. Nothing I've read about her, or in her newsletters, implied otherwise. But here she is with her hate the sin, love the sinner rhetoric, and we're in the end times because gays are getting married.

Anchorage was always one of my favorite songs. It reminds me of my dad. Now it's probably always going to remind me of outdated hate.

The rest of my day is all paper work. Yesterday we got five pieces of mail. One of them wasn't from Kaiser. We're trying to get on their financial aid program to help pay Mark's hospital bill. It only covers his expenses at their hospital, which aren't too bad, but we need every penny to pay what they won't cover at ours.

And I'm late for paying bill, just 'cause of the zombie state. Also, I have an appointment to do our taxes next week, and while I have all the stuff, it's nowhere near in order. I hate tax time. I never know going in if we'll get a refund or have to pay more. And my accountant goes to what used to be my church and is always asking when I'm coming back. I just can't sit there in her office full of angels and explain that I'm not. It's a very stressful event all around.

But good to have over. All the H&R Block and Turbo Tax ads on tv have been wigging me out since January.

Yet I remembered just now that I haven't done Russell's yet. I use Turbo Tax online for that, but they didn't send the eight or nine email reminders that I usually get. Hope that's not going to be a problem.

I'll find out soon. First Russell and I have to go to the store and hunt up food that Mark will eat.
little_tristan: (BBT Sheldon WTF)
Mom got a letter from an identity theft protection outfits that she was using. They were automatically billing her credit card and wrote to say they were having trouble processing her payment. Their motto is "Relentlessly Protecting Your Identity". That struck me as odd.
So I wrote this letter... )
little_tristan: (Daria: Mr. D)
WARNING: Triggering accounts of rape, child abuse, victim-blaming, and rage-inciting insensitivity on the part of some white dude who gets paid to be a dick in the big-city paper.

First, the New York Times article, here. (If they take it down, let me know. I have it saved as a Word doc and will happily forward.)

If you can't see what's wrong with it, click here to have it explained.

And, finally, click here to point out to the aforementioned white dude that he's being a dick right in front of God and everyone. In case he also needs it explained.
little_tristan: (Penny Says Explode)
...Fletch remarked, "It's nice to see Corp. Com. mainstreaming people."

Huh? I looked at him quizzically with a mouthful of julienne carrots. Finally swallowing, I asked, "What are you talking about?"

"You know, your company. Mainstreaming. They hired that nice kid with Down syndrome," he replied.

I shook my head and dabbed at my mouth with a linen napkin. "Fletcher, I have no clue who you're talking about."

"The tall kid. He was blond with a striped shirt and gapped teeth."

"In MY office?"

"Yes. He was walking by the reception desk when I came in. When I asked for you, he got nervous and started to pace back and forth. I felt bad because I think I confused him."

"Today?"

"YES."

"How much wine have you had?" I picked up his goblet and inspected it. Honestly, I always have to monitor that boy's intake. He gets into his cups a little too easily sometimes.

"Whatever was in the glass you're holding."

"Well, if you're not drunk, then you're hallucinating. The Chicago office only has salespeople in it. Maybe you're thinking of one of our suburban offices."

Fletch insisted, "Jen, you saw him. He took me to your desk."

"Noooo," I said slowly, the puzzle beginning to piece itself together. "Arthur brought you over to me."

"Yes! Arthur. That was his name. Striped shirt. Eager to please. Nice kid."

"Fletch," I said, shaking my head, "he's one of my salespeople."

"But I've never heard you mention him."

"Yes, honey, you have."

Fletch sat quietly for about thirty seconds, until he finally understood.

"Holy shit...was that...was that...was that Retard-y Arty?"

I know it's a mean nickname, but before you judge me..."


Yeah, um, Jen? Too late. This conversation runs from pages 21-23, and after I got done cringing and managed to open my eyes again, I very nearly put the book aside for good. (This is what she calls her co-worker at home? So regularly that her husband has never heard the poor guy's real name?) I mean, I'd read one of her other books (Bright Lights, Big Ass) so I knew she was a wicked, self-centered, egotistical bitch, but somehow this seemed beneath even Ms. Lancaster. The only reason I kept reading was that the jacket copy promised me she was going to lose her job and have to overcome serious obstacles, and, in her own words, "The bitch had it coming."

So I wanted to see her get it.
The problem is, it wasn't really worth it. )
little_tristan: (Crazy Reject)
Listening to this song makes me paranoid, like Jonathan Coulton is following me around somehow. I know at least 5 people in RL that it could be about, and I bet you do, too. That's why I live online.

little_tristan: (Blair with Gun)
This morning I found my special cheese slicer in the fridge, on a plate of raw meat. Because that's what I want on my cheese--raw meat juice. I put it in the sink, where my arch-nemesis found it, washed it, and asked if I wanted it back in the fridge. I said, on the plate of raw meat? No, thank you. And I didn't put it there in the first place. So he asked if I wanted him to drive a nail into the side of the breadbox to hang the slicer on. I wouldn't let him, because hanging things makes them very hard to reach, and he got mad.

Then he started saying he should build a shelving unit in place of the breadbox, which is where I keep my food, thereby insuring that I would never be able to reach anything again. Once more, I wouldn't let him. He stopped arguing after a while, just put Ranger outside and called it a day.

I guess so long as he gets the last word.
little_tristan: (Book Snail)
"Guys forget that women have to make their peace with their half-assed lives, too, and earlier than men. Women get more realistic far faster than men do, so don't expect tears in your beer from me, Roger. To me, you're a rookie at this failing life shit.

Today's book is The Gum Thief by Douglas Coupland. This is also a fast and entertaining read, but I stretched it to 3 days instead of the usual 2, just to savor it a bit. It's more complexly layered than other books of his that I've reviewed, switching POV from chapter to chapter and giving you a minimum of 2 sides to every story. The primary characters, Roger and Bethany, work at a Staples and communicate by writing letters back and forth, after Bethany discovers that Roger has been writing journal entries as if he were her. He is also writing a novel, Glove Pond, which gets no love, except from Bethany and her mother, whom Roger went to school with. So you get to read everyone's letters to everyone else--Roger's to Bethany, Bethany's to Roger, Roger's to Dee Dee (Bethany's mom) and vice versa, as well as a couple of bitter epistles from Roger's ex, and some seriously messed up cruelty from their fellow Staples drones. And, mixed in almost at random, are chapters from the insanely bad, yet oddly compelling, Glove Pond. Also, some essays on buttering, from the toast's POV.

The end is a special treat, unlike anything I've seen from Coupland so far. It reminded me more than anything of the movie Get Shorty, not in content but in style. I'd love to have read this as part of a small group of intelligent people so we could kill a couple hours discussing how much of the book was "real" and how much was another book.

One more question for Doug, should we ever meet: Why does nearly every book have some reference to Jerry's Kids? Family connection there, maybe?

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