The One With the 12 Library Days of Christmas

What? It's been since September since I've written anything? Anything at all?

Yeah, I know.

But what better time than that which I am forced to work on Christmas Eve to update?

I don't even really have a good update, but I've been composing the 12 Library Days of Christmas in my head all day, and I was going to put it on Twitter, but then I decided I could illustrate it and everything here. Plus, I could make empty promises about how I swear I'm going to write more in the coming year and I could talk about how, one of these days, I'll tell you all about my new job, beginning in January, and the fact that I got married in November.

But I digress.

The 12 Days of Library Christmas

On the first day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Working on Christmas Eve

On the second day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Two massive fines

. . .and working on Christmas Eve

On the third day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Three screaming kids

. . .two massive fines, and working on Christmas Eve

On the fourth day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Four fighting thugs

. . .three screaming kids, two massive fines, and working on Christmas Eve

On the fifth day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Fiiiive un-su-per-vised teens

. . .four fighting thugs, three screaming kids, two massive fines, and working on Christmas Eve

On the sixth day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Six drunks a-snoring

. . .fiiiiive un-supervised teens, four fighting thugs, three screaming kids, two massive fines, and working on Christmas Eve

On the seventh day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Seven stolen laptops

. . .six drunks a-snoring, fiiiiiive un-supervised teens, four fighting thugs, three screaming kids, two massive fines, and working on Christmas Eve

On the eighth day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Eight nasty phone calls

. . .seven stolen laptops, six drunks a-snoring, fiiiiiive un-supervised teens, four fighting thugs, three screaming kids, two massive fines, and working on Christmas Eve

On the ninth day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Nine lost USB drives

. . .eight nasty phone calls, seven stolen laptops, six drunks a-snoring, fiiiiiive unsupervised teens, four fighting thugs, three screaming kids, two massive fines, and working on Christmas Eve

On the tenth day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Ten lying liars

. . .nine lost USB drives, eight nasty phone calls, seven stolen laptops, six drunks a-snoring, fiiiiive unsupervised teens, four fighting thugs, three screaming kids, two massive fines, and working on Christmas Eve

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Eleven ringing cellphones

. . .ten lying liars, nine lost USB drives, eight nasty phone calls, seven stolen laptops, six drunks a-snoring, fiiiiiive unsupervised teens, four fighting thugs, three screaming kids, two massive fines, and working on Christmas Eve.

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my patrons gave to me. . .

Twelve inane questions

. . .eleven ringing cellphones, ten lying liars, nine lost USB drives, eight nasty phone calls, seven stolen laptops, six drunks a-snoring, fiiiiiiiive unsupervised teens, four fighting thugs, three screaming kids, two massive fines, and working on Christmas Eve!

Merry Christmas and happy assorted other holidays to whatever readers I have left. I hope your presents are awesome, your carols are on-key, and your gingerbread houses are especially gingerbready.

Until I get my act together to write with more frequency. . .I bid you adieu and farewell. Merry Christmas, y'all!

The One With a (Mostly) Wordless Wednesday

Some of these don't apply to libraries. Most of them do. (Click to enlarge.)

The One With the Insensitive Manager

I did not complete my month-long picture project. I think you all probably guessed that would happen. Sorry. You shouldn't believe me. I lie, it seems.

D and I were at a grocery store near our house last night. It's a mid-price grocery store (WHY don't I live within walking distance of an Aldi's??), but we can walk there without much effort, so that's where we generally go.

We were checking out (ready to go home and have our Super-Healthy-Fruit-Veggie-Cheese-Wheat Thin Dinner Extravaganza) when I heard one of the night managers talking to the little bagger girl.

"If you don't stop eating so much sugar," he said, loudly, "you're going to get diabetes. You'll go blind in one eye, and one of your legs will have to be chopped off."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Um, what?

Not only is that NOT HOW YOU GET DIABETES, but the type of diabetes that is more toward the lifestyle side of things is 90% of diabetics. The other lucky 10%, myself included, get it because, uh, our autoimmune systems spontaneously decide to say, "ATTACK THE PANCREAS!"


My immediate thought was to go over to the guy (who was a manager, of all people. Someone who should know better), grab him by his polo-shirt collar, throw him up against the wall and yell, "Why don't you SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH about things you KNOW NOTHING ABOUT, you effing DOUCHENOZZLE?!"

Then I figured, well, it's better to tell his manager. Because if I yell at him, HE will know he did something wrong, but he will likely not care. But if his manager is aware he did something wrong, she will speak to him, and possibly his co-workers would all be like, "Oooooh, you're in trooooubllllleeeeee."

Note: "Trouble" is a difficult word to elongate.)

D went up there and spoke to the manager in order to find out Douchenozzle's name, and then I gave her a call. She was very nice, very apologetic, and very horrified when I told her what they guy had said.

I sort of wanted to see him get fired, but that was just my bum pancreas talking.

I stayed irritated for hours after we left, and I was irritated when I woke up.

If you're diabetic, you're allowed to tell diabetic jokes. You're allowed to talk about how you could get your foot chopped off, or how you could go blind, or whatever. You're allowed to say things that are ridiculous and untrue about your own disease. Humor is a coping mechanism.

We diabetics (and I'm going to make this statement even smaller and say we Type 1s) deal with this bullshit every day. When I wake up, I'm strapped to an insulin pump. If I weren't strapped to a pump, I'd need to take injections. I have to stick my fingers multiple times daily. I have to count carbohydrates in what I eat to know how much insulin to take. Most people's pancreases do that for them. Mine decided it had a better job offer.

It would be like telling a cancer survivor a cancer joke. Or making one of those ubiquitous Dead Baby Jokes to someone who's had 5 miscarriages and is going through those hormone therapies. It's. . .not funny. You don't know what the hell you're talking about. As soon as you've had your blood sugar climb toward 600 because your pump isn't working or you wake up disoriented, having lost hours of your day due to low blood sugar you didn't even know you had, THEN you can talk about going blind and cutting your feet off.

There's a fine line, I think. On one of the blogs I read, the author made a diabetes-related joke that I actually thought was pretty funny. The deal there is, if you go to this particular blog, you need to prepare yourself for irreverance and possibly being insulted.

But I don't go to the grocery store thinking I'm going to be insulted and joked about.

And then I got to thinking. I was diagnosed in October of 1989. I was 4. I have to wonder how that guy would feel if he knew that a newly-diagnoses 4-year-old had heard what he said and spent the next week and a half crying every night before going to bed, maybe even IN bed, because she thinks she's going to go blind or lose one of her legs. How funny is THAT, Mr. Comedian?

It's people you don't know, it's people you do know. . .no one really knows how this effects people like me. My college best friend told a friend of his once that he was getting tired of how dramatic I was being about the whole diabetes thing, how I was doing stuff to get attention. (This was after I woke up at 4 in the afternoon, in the shower, not knowing how I'd gotten there or what else I'd done that day.) No one gets it, but that doesn't mean you have to air your ignorance in public.

I don't care about the parents of diabetics who get all up in arms offended about every little thing. I care about that little kid who may not quite realize yet that this is forever. It's not a death sentence, but they're taking it with them to the end. I have an aunt that died, most likely, from complications from Type 1. I'm on my 22nd anniversary this year and have thus far avoided the macular degeneration that generally begins around the 20th year. I'm grateful for that.

But I'd love to take Mr. DoucheComedian and put a small, ticking time bomb inside of him. He doesn't know when it's going to go off (if it goes off at all) and he doesn't know what'll happen when it does go off. . .how bad the damage will be or whatever. He just knows it's there, and there's nothing he can do about it.

And then I'll go make jokes about it. Not TO him, but near him, so he can go home and think about his bomb, and other people's perceptions of his bomb. I'd like him to have a bomb that is similar in name to another type of bomb, but to have few people know the difference, so they're constantly telling him how to deal with his bomb, and how he could have prevented his bomb, and the like. Like they know ANYTHING about his bomb.

OK, now I'm rambling, so I'll stop. I'm sorry.

Don't joke about or talk about things you literally know nothing about. It makes you look bad, and makes me not want to shop at your store anymore.

That's all.

The One With the Hurricane

So, Hurricane Irene came and went. We're far enough inland in North Carolina that this was the extent of the damage done to the area where we live:

I love hurricanes. I don't like being IN them, but I love the build up, watching hurricane coverage all day, listening to the wind and rain, all that kind of thing.

Yesterday, while we watched the peripheral of the storm outside the window, I told D I felt like one of those people on the cop shows, the ones that, like, their mother was raped and produced them, so then they go after rapists?

Which, OK, is a TERRIBLE analogy if you don't know what I'm talking about. What I mean is, the people whose lives were affected by something, so that becomes a focal point of their lives from there on out.

Back in 1996, when Hurricane Fran came through North Carolina, my family and I were living in a house in kind of the country side of the city, in the woods, with lots of trees around. Prior to Fran coming through, Hurricane Bertha came through, and it had been raining for what seemed like weeks, so the ground was nice and squishy, and that was why so many trees ended up down.

We ended up with this 100-foot sycamore tree that knocked out part of our back deck and that came crashing through the kitchen bay window.

Trauma. I was a kid/am an adult that is fairly easily traumatized anyway, so that made this giant, scary impact on my life (at least as far as hurricanes are concerned) from then until now.

So it could potentially make sense that now, I'm kind of obsessed with hurricanes, while they're happening. I also know information that is kind of weird to have stored away, but it's there, because I've read so much about it.

Anyway, I woke up at 8 yesterday and spent the better part of the day watching out the window and watching news coverage. The beach area got hammered, but where we live barely saw anything. Which is simultaneously good and a little disappointing. Not saying I want bad things to happen, but they'd hyped this thing up so much, I expected at least a couple of missing shingles.

Additionally, I'm aware that I started the month-long-picture-a-day thing and lasted. . .one day. Since D didn't get home until 8 this morning, and is going to be sleeping all day, most likely, I'm going to make it my goal to get through the past month's pictures so that maybe I can finish out the month with the people who actually were meticulous and finished the project.

We'll see.

The One With the Photo Challenge: Day 1

I know. I'm kind of notorious for starting projects on this blog and just kind of losing interest halfway through. It's kind of weird, actually, because in real life, I'm pretty good about seeing things through, but on my blog, I just. . .don't.

But I'm going to attempt this August Photo Challenge. Possibly, it will inspire me to post something every day. Possibly, it will be something else I will fail at and it will make me sad. We'll see!

The pictures will probably be taken with my cell phone camera, so I'll apologize for that in advance. Here's the list:

It's currently August 2, and as such, I'll post twice today. I know you're excited.

Day 1: Self-Portrait

The One Where the Internet is Ruining the World

I'm fairly certain the Internet is what is causing the downfall of civilization as we know it.

That might be an odd thing for someone like me to say, considering I have a blog (a couple blogs, actually), I get most of my recipes online, I read news online, and I have a certain love affair with Google.

But watching people these days, just the way people are makes me feel like if not for the massive amount of online time and information you can find online, we'd be a lot better off.

I offer the following examples:

Example 1: Everyone is so damn hateful.

Granted, there have been mean people since the beginning of time. The Internet, however, and the anonymity offered therein, have made it almost impossible to consider our current culture as anything but a bunch of bullies.

I mostly blame the comment sections on news stories. Any Joe Shmo with computer access and an e-mail address (sometimes not even an e-mail address) can comment on anything. And most of the time, the comments aren't even relevant. A story about Amy Winehouse's death will have a, "SEE, DIS IS WHA HAPINS BECUZ OBBAMA'S DA PREZ." A story about Casey Anthony and how she killed her daughter and got away with it will have a, "Woohoo! WHAT A HOTTIE. I'd like to GET WITH THAT!" Any story in the world will have something about how Democrats/Republicans are the reason the country is in such bad shape.

People are able to be anonymous, so that makes them feel they have the right to say whatever they want.

I think in order to fix it, we need to require anyone who's going to post anything anywhere to include their photograph and home phone number. Then we'll see what people have to say.

Example 2: The Internet makes people think they know everything.

Blame Wikipedia. Blame WebMD. Everyone now thinks they know everything about everything. It doesn't make any difference that a lot of stuff is posted by people who also don't know anything about anything. Even now, people take things they see on the Internet as being the Gospel Truth.

People tell their doctors that the diagnosis is wrong, because they read on WebMD that it has to be something else. People get lame forwards of urban legends, and then suddenly, they're telling everyone and their mother that Oh my GOD, you guys, if you don't put your porch light on from 7:14 p.m. t0 8:57 p.m. next Wednesday, you are UN-AMERICAN.

And if you tell someone who learned something online that they're wrong? God save you.

Patron: I should be able to check out these books by using this iPhone app that has my library card barcode in it. I read it online.
Me: Well, unfortunately, we don't have the capabilities to. . .
Patron: But I READ IT ONLINE! YOU CAN DO IT!
Me: Yes, it IS technology that's currently available, but our county doesn't yet have the equipment that you need to be able to. . .
Patron: You are CLEARLY AN IDIOT. It said ONLINE that I can check out books WITH MY PHONE.

It doesn't matter that he read an article in the New York Times about how the New York Public Library is doing that now. He read it online, and that makes it fact. How dare you argue?

Which brings me to. . .

Example 3: The Internet is making everyone stupid.

Technology is a good thing. We've made amazing advances in the last 30 years to get us to where we are today. You can use your cell phone to make a dinner reservation, call your wife to tell her to meet you at the restaurant, and program your DVR to record the TV shows you'll miss while you're out to dinner. You can do all of that.

But you can't spell, and when you text your wife to remind her to wear the red dress you like so much to dinner, it comes out, "Wear ur RED DRESS 2 dinner."

I'm not entirely sure when it became acceptable to say "2" instead of "to" or "ur" instead of "your," but all it's going to do is cause kids to not be able to spell. All you need to do is glance at, let's say, a 7-year-old's text they're sending, and you can see it's already something of an epidemic.

(That is to say nothing of how young kids are when they get their own phone these days. If you want my opinion, if you're younger than 13, you have no need for a cell phone that does anything but call your parents, and maybe one other pre-programmed number. It's completely unnecessary. You don't need to text anyone. You don't need to call anyone. But that's just me.)

(My kids are going to HATE ME.)

No one cares about spelling and grammar anymore. No one cares they sound like a bunch of idiots, because most people are a bunch of idiots.

D was driving a bunch of 20-somethings home in the cab to a bar the other night, and one of them was giving the other a hard time for using "ur." Good for him. I want to be friends with that guy, maybe buy him a beer.

I'm just sad that it's now cool to be dumb. That's all there is to it. Dumbness is so mainstream, it's now the smart people, the people who use the proper versions of there, their or they're, and the people who take the extra half-second to spell out "your" that are the weird ones.

All of that being said, yeah. I'm convinced that the Internet and the fact that everyone has access to it is part of the reason we're in the shape we're in now. Unfortunately, I don't think it's going to get any better any time soon.

The One With North Carolina's New Law

Anyone who caught my math error yesterday can now give a giant sigh of relief -- I actually DO know the difference between 80 and 90, but I do not

According to the Raleigh News & Observer, the North Carolina Senate has overturned the governor's veto of an abortion law.

North Carolina being, of course, in the Bible Belt of America, stuff like this and The Gays and. . .pretty much anything not having to do with the parts of the Bible that're usually in the spotlight are SERIOUS BUSINESS, YOU GUYS! I can't say I'm altogether surprised with this decision, but that doesn't mean I agree with it.

The new law states that women seeking abortions have to get ultrasounded, get state-mandated counseling, and wait 24 hours before actually getting one.

So, basically what's going on here, is that abortion isn't illegal, because the people voting don't want it to be, but what is instead going to happen is that anyone seeking to get a legal abortion is going to be guilted counseled, have to look at the ultrasound, and then wait anyway, so they can then ruminate on everything they've been told.

I think it's garbage.

The pro-law people are arguing that women "should have all the information available to them."

Yes, absolutely. They should. They should know exactly what it is they're doing, and should be offered all the information they need/want/whatever.

They should be offered all the information.

They should not have the information forced upon them.

What is the point of an ultrasound? The only thing this could possibly be for is to wave it in the woman's face and say, "SEE? It's a BABY!" There's no medical need to do that.

Counseling. . .that one's a little harder, but again, I think it's something that should be OFFERED, not FORCED. I would love to know what these "state-mandated" counseling sessions are going to look like.

Doctor: I see you're wanting an abortion.
Patient: Yes.
Doctor: Don't you know that's evil? Don't you know it's murder?
Patient: But I was raped by my brother and have always known that if I give birth, it'll kill me.
Doctor: But it's your BABY. You're going to KILL your BABY!

I think that, yeah, counseling should be OFFERED, both before and after the procedure, but that forcing someone into it is just making an already bad situation worse.

The 24-hour waiting period is. . .actually, I can sort of get behind that. Someone comes in, you offer (but don't force) the information on them, offer them counseling, and they can make an appointment to come in the next day. That could work, I guess. So we'll keep the 24-hour waiting period, but I think the rest is crap.

So what do you think? And I promise, if you disagree, I'm not going to be like, "RAWR!" I'd like to have someone that can logically and reasonably explain to me (without the use of morals and religion) why this is a good idea. Because last time I checked, government wasn't supposed to do things because of religion. And they certainly don't care about morality.