I'm going to be using my new job as an excuse for everything that's not getting done in my life for quite a while folks, so you might as well get used to it. Because I'm so very busy (not really), here. Have some half-written posts I've been meaning to write.
YOU KNOW YOUR LIFE IS AWESOME WHEN YOU HAVE PARASITE PREFERENCES
So, Henry The Cat has giardia. Again. I’ve told Henry again and again not to drink stream water while hiking, but he just never listens! (BA DA BING!)
That’s just a little parasite humor for you, folks. I’ll be here all week. Specifically, I’ll be here all week giving my cat antibiotics every twelve hours. I’m not complaining, because out of all the parasites this cat has had, giardia is the least gross. But I am a bit bewildered. Except for visits to the vet, during which he travels in the confines of a carrier, this cat has not been outside in over three years. Because we’ve had so many problems with parasites being passed around within my cat herd, I have them tested every year. For the past two years, Henry has been clean. Madison, who occasionally does escape outside to the alley and is in general a dirty, disgusting animal, is clean. So, technically it’s impossible for Henry to have re-contracted giardia. It’s the immaculate parasitic infection!
DEAR GOD PLEASE LET MY NEW ERGONOMIC KEYBOARD HURRY UP AND GET HERE
A few years ago I bought an awesome cyborg-looking wrist brace at CVS when my left wrist was bothering me and I decided I had carpal tunnel syndrome. Shortly afterwards, I also ordered an ergonomic keyboard and my wrist stopped hurting and I forgot about it. The ergonomic keyboard turned into one of those things that I just used because it was there, but I wasn’t sure if it really made a difference.
Well, I left it behind at my old office and one thing has become abundantly clear: I NEED IT. One week using a regular keyboard and my wrist is in agony. You should hear it, crying all night. It hurts right now, typing this. Kind of a lot. I should probably stop typing. The things I do for you, internet!
I don’t want to wear the brace to work because it makes doing anything with my left hand pretty difficult -- I guess that’s sort of the point, huh? But I also just don’t want to look like a pussy. If I play my cards right I can probably keep them thinking that I'm not a total wuss until next winter, when I'll have to get another flu shot. I'm trying to keep it very professional here. I left my New Moon calendar at home and I haven't mentioned The Vampire Diaries even once. But if the new ergonomic keyboard I ordered last week doesn’t get here soon, my wrist is going to have to call in sick.
DON'T CALL ME A BITCH
I am not a fan, in general, of fighting sports. I can get behind the idea of self-defense and martial arts, but people actually getting into a ring and beating the crap out of each other seems kind of… dumb. And mean. I don’t like it.
HOWEVER, I am starting to love this show Joel watches, Ultimate Fighter. Or as I like to call it, America’s Next Top Model for Dudes. It starts out with a theme song that is like a cross between an angry Linkin Park and the techno thump-thump intro from Jersey Shore. The lyrics, when you can make them out amid the screaming, are something like THIS IS THE ULTIMATE! WE ARE THE ULTIMATE! PUSHUP FACEPUNCH ULTIMATE!The show features two teams who compete against each other in fights and people get sent home and I’m actually kind of fuzzy on these details. But several of the fighters somehow get nicknames, my personal favorite of which was last season’s Big Baby. I miss Big Baby. Treeslam (or whatever his name is) just doesn’t have quite the same hilarity. But the nicknames are awesome.
Big Baby really was a big baby, by the way, and that’s the dichotomy that I’m coming to truly love. On one episode last season two guys yelled the same lines at each other for what seemed like five minutes. One would yell “YOU’RE A BITCH” and then the other would yell back “DON’T CALL ME A BITCH” and they repeated that for so long that I was absolutely transfixed as to who would break the pattern first. "Bitch" is a term that’s thrown around quite a bit. My favorite line from this season so far was when Treepunch (I think) called someone else -- you guessed it! -- "bitch" during a practice fight, and the other guy replied “You can’t call me a bitch! We’re on the same team!”
Basically, these uber-tough guys all live in a house together and call each other bitches and then at the end of each episode they fight. If you have a significant other who’s into this kind of thing, I recommend giving it a try. Just close your eyes when they start bleeding at the end.
MARY MARY QUITE CONTRARY
I meant to write about my foray into the wide world of gardening weeks ago, but it’s just as well that I didn’t because between then and now, not much has happened. It turns out that gardening requires quite a bit of waiting, which in turn requires patience. Needless to say, I am having some difficulty.
The impetus for hobby #472 came when, after a year on the waiting list, we got a call informing us that we were getting a community garden plot in the park a few blocks from our house. I spent a large chunk of my week off between jobs beating that poor neglected plot into submission, and we now have quite a variety of seeds in the dirt. It's exciting. Yes, it is.
I am in love with the whole idea of growing actual food from teeny tiny seeds, but I can’t help feeling like I’m destined for heartbreak. I am a long-time killer of houseplants and I have no experience with actual outside gardening. I can’t leave the potted herbs I planted on our back patio alone. I check on them every day and then feel crushed when STILL nothing but the basil has sprouted. What do they need? More water? Fertilizer? A nightly lullaby? And then I’m tempted to try all three, and then everything dies. It's probably a good thing that the garden plot is a ten-minute walk from the house.
I’ve attended a couple of free classes at a local nursery, though, and my hopes are still high. It looks like I’ve killed the cucumbers by misreading the date it was safe to plant (April 20, not March 20, oops) and we might need to re-plant the carrots as well (not good in clumpy soil, double oops), but when we checked this weekend it looked like the broccoli and lettuce were both sprouting! Either that, or there are weeds growing in an awfully straight line.
Because I like to do things 110%, we are also now composting at our house, much to Joel’s chagrin. His exact words, I believe, were “this is an ill-conceived plan.” He is, in all likelihood, correct. But that’s not going to stop me from dumping all our organic waste into a Rubbermaid bin and scouring the state for a single place that will sell me red wigglers, which are apparently the kind of worms you need for composting. I kidnapped a bucketful of reddish-looking worms from the garden plot and hopefully they are eating their way through all my coffee grinds and broccoli stems. Either that, or they're all dead. I can't bring myself to check.
Finally, I need your input on one of my desk photos. In an effort to settle into my new workspace I brought in a few picture frames and filled them with some extra prints I had lying around the house. I used one of my favorite wedding pictures, but I’m afraid it’s a little too… passionate for the workplace.
Tell me the truth, internet. Is it too racy? I’m planning to do a print order soon and I could easily replace it… but I kind of like it. Help me. I've expended far too much energy not talking about the new Hilary Duff movie that was on ABCFamily last night (DID YOU GUYS WATCH?) to be The New Girl With The Makeout Picture.