The One Where Men Aren't the Devil

I'm not dead, and I haven't forgotten that I blog here sometimes.  I have a new blog, though, a food one, and I'm doing my damnedest to keep up with it even though you can see from this blog here at. . .consistency isn't my blogging strong suit.  However, I have a METHOD for my other blog, so the chances are good that I'll be keeping up with it the way I should.

The chances are good, but not definite.  I'm on week 2 and keeping up, so we'll see.

Along with this blog, and my oft-neglected but recently picked back up site She Likes to Bake, I've started a new project called Sarah Cooks the Books.  It will eventually just be SarahCookstheBooks.com, but for right now, it's still on blogspot.  So there you go.  Check 'em out, and I just ordered this book, so I promise they'll both be better-looking, and soon.

My on-topic point today is men.

Not these men.

I fully understand that sexism is alive and well.  I fully understand that women don't get paid as much as men in most jobs and that a woman's more likely than a man to be raped and that men have pretty much run things since the beginning of time.

But what I don't understand is when, exactly, feminism turned from "Let us vote, dammit!" to "Men are evil bastards who need to die a long, slow, painful death for the crime of having a penis."

The very, very feminist website I referenced wanting to quit before but haven't quite been able to bring myself to leave had this story the other day about how money tore apart this woman's marriage.  That's not really here nor there, but it was this little gem that made me take notice:

 

Truly, there are few things in life that irritate me as much as the use of "Mr. Mom." (saying that a dad is "babysitting" his kids when the mom's not there is another one.)  Why Mr. Mom?  Why not. . .I don't know. . .Dad?

 

So, knowing I was throwing myself directly into the jaws of the angry shark (does. . .that metaphor work?) I said:



To the credit of many on that site, I, at the present moment, have 35 upvotes.  But those aren't the ones I'm interested in.  (Mostly because, in this case?  I KNOW I'm right.)  It's the downvotes I'm looking at.  At least 7 people feel that Mr. Mom is an OK terminology to use.  Why?  I don't know specifically, and I can't ask, because downvoting is anonymous, but I'm going to go ahead and guess that it's because I dared suggest that a man could do a good parenting job and not be referred to as any version of "Mom."

There was another time I got into this same scuffle, regarding an article of women who've been raped.  I brought up instances of women who claim they've been raped, but have in fact, not.  (Because truthfully, those women should be punished just as hard as the men who rape.)  I said something about men who are falsely accused having to go through hellish things (wrecking of reputation, alienation of friends, loss of potential dates, sometimes court proceedings. . .) just because a woman either didn't get when she wanted and then lied about it or got what she wanted, but then decided she didn't actually want it, so she calls rape.  (Those were the examples I used.)

This was the response I got from one person:

So, to recap, it doesn't matter what I think of people who lie about being raped and ruin lives in the process.  The important takeaway from this is that MEN DON'T NEED PEOPLE TO CARE ABOUT THEIR FEELINGS.

(For those of you who don't know, "cis" is another one of those words created because we as a society have the inherent need to label EVERYTHING.  Short for "cisgender," it is "the opposite of transgender, a cisgender person’s gender identity matches their body and the gender they were assigned at birth, as well as the traditional roles and behaviors associated with that gender."

In other words, heterosexual people who don't think they should be the opposite sex.  This "word" is thrown around A LOT on this website.

So my purpose in life, since I'm a woman and all, is to be sympathetic to women and to not care about men at all costs.  If a woman lies about being raped?  That's OK, because she's more likely to be the victim of a sexual assault than a man is.  If a man is accused of rape and he didn't do it?  I shouldn't care, because he's a man, and as a man, he's more likely to be the perpetrator of a sexual assault, so it's like a pre-emptive strike, and he probably had it coming anyway.  Right?

I call bullshit.

I'd like to say it for the record here, for anyone to read, men, women, women who frequent that website, whatever.

I like men.

I like men a lot.  Most of my best friends in life have been men. 

Hell, I married a man!  I married a man that doesn't sexually assault people and who I'd never call "Mr. Mom" when his daughter is here.  I married a man that is a much better person than a lot of the women I've known in my life.

So no, I'm not going to take your side just because we have the same indoor plumbing.  If you're a jerk, I'll ignore you.  Same if you're a man.  If you're a jerk, I'll ignore you.  If you're not a jerk. . .well, apparently, you're just a figment of my imagination then.  Because men who deserve kindness and compassion and for their lives to not be ruined by false accusations of rape don't exist.

(Note: My spellcheck doesn't recognize "cis" or "cisgender" as words, so there's that.)

The One with the End of an Era

I was going to call this one either "The One with a Fall From Grace" or "The One with the End of a Love Affair" or "The One Where I Lose the Love," and then I realized that both of those would make it sound like I was on either side of some kind of extramarital affair or getting a divorce or something, which I'm not.

When I wrote this post, I meant everything I said.  Everything about the love I've always had for everything in the Jane Pratt universe, and how Jane magazine was the raison d'être for most of my adolesence and childhood.  How I looked up to Jane, and how it was my absolute biggest dream to be able to work for her.

You know how, at some point, you realize your parents aren't perfect?  You realize they're not perfect, and it's so effing disappointing?

The last two days have been like that for me.

You might accuse me of being melodramatic, and that's cool, but the xoJane community was like. . .my people.  Smart, snarky people with opinions beyond "OMG, I totes need the new Marc Jacobs bag or I'll, like, LITERALLY DIE."  It is the damn hardest thing in the world for me to make friends, so when I find a community, whether online or in the 3-D world, that I can connect with, it's huge.  And I had that.  But I don't think I do anymore.

Without getting into the logistics of all of it, I think it all boils down to the fact that I've realized that Jane herself. . .doesn't really care.  She cares about the money, and she cares about the clicks, but she doesn't much care about the community of people that, for the most part, were brought together because of the common interest of Jane or Jane's big sister, Sassy. 

She has always been known for her celebrity name-dropping (Did you know she's former lovers/ currentBFF with Michael Stipe?  And that she slept with Drew Barrymore?  And that she's also BFF with Courteney Cox?  We all know.  Because she talks about it ad nauseum.)  but apparently, that also bleeds over into the not-so-celebrity people, the chosen few that are part of the in-crowd.  The ones that get fawned over and acknowledged like they were real-life best friends.

Am I jealous?  That this woman I've looked up to for literally more than half my life won't respond to my (obviously hilarious) life observations and (thoughtful) questions?  A little, yeah.  But it's so much more than that.

I can't have respect for someone who looks the other way while her beauty director and "health critic" gets herself so wasted on drugs every night she writes long, rambling diatribes about her "rock and roll" lifestyle (with a beauty product recommendation thrown in for good measure at the end) and who, after the aforementioned BD/HC quits (Yeah, quits.  Wasn't fired.  Quits to write for the Vice website.) hires a new Beauty Editor that her readers and commenters literally, literally BEGGED her to not hire, for a miriad of very valid reasons.  And when she hired her instead, just basically said, "I love her and you need to be nice!" without addressing any of the reason why the readers, the REASON for such a site, were so against it.

I'm tired of the constant tearing-down in the comments section and the authors' own Twitter feeds.    I'm tired of being a part of a community where, a year ago, I felt like I was an active part of and that I was being heard as a person, and now, I'm just not.  It doesn't help that Disqus has added a "downvote" option and that it's anonymous.  People are just mean.  I think facebook has been correct in not adding the "Dislike" option.  That would get really ugly really fast.

So I'm quitting.  I'm throwing in the towel.  At the very least, I'm taking a hiatus.  Maybe I'll be back.  If I see Daisy Barringer tweet that she's written something, I'll probably read it, but avoid the comments section.  There's enough negativity in the world, and I'm working hard enough to keep it out of my own life.  It's hard, you guys.  I'm not naturally a glass-half-full kind of gal, but I've legitimately been trying harder to not. . .drink the Haterade.

Maybe you're reading this and thinking, "Damn, Sarah.  You're too sensitive.  You're making a big deal out of nothing."  Maybe that's your opinion, and that's cool.  For me, it's like I've just lost my best elementary school friend.  It's just not fun anymore.

I guess this means I'm going to need to find real-life people to talk to now.  God help us all.

The One with Unequal Diabetes

This is a post that. . .if anyone in the DOC (Diabetes Online Community) read it, I'd probably be skewered.  It's not amusing, it's not especially PC. . .it's just something I've been thinking about.

The Diabetes Sisters conference I went to back in May was really big on the whole community thing.  As in, it doesn't matter if you're a Type 1 diabetic or a Type 2 diabetic. . .we've all got the 'betes.  We're all a sisterhood.

That's all well and good, but I guess my dirty little secret is that. . .I think that's a load of crap.

What makes it even worse is that there are people now saying that Type 2 diabetes could potentially have autoimmune origins.  That's not been proven, but it's a theory they're studying.

That's literally all I have.  All I have that I can say when someone's like, "Oh, you have diabetes.  You must have eaten too much sugar!"  I can say, "Well, no.  Type 1 is autoimmune.  It just kind of happens.  Type 2 is usually more lifestyle-based, although it can run in families, too, blah blah blah."

Now what do I have?  "Oh, you have diabetes.  You should eat less sugar."  "Mine's autoimmune."  "Yeah, well, they both are."

Except Type 2s can get theirs in well enough control that they don't have to take their medications anymore.  That will never happen for me.  I'm stuck.  I'm stuck with this, and to add insult to injury, they give these two different diseases (they're not the same) the same name, and then talk about Type 2 in the media all the time because Americans aren't capable of eating right and taking care of themselves and just refer to it as "diabetes," because who cares about the 5% of diabetics who are in the same boat as me?  No one cares, that's who cares.  The American Diabetes Association puts more emphasis on Type 2.  The Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation?  They're all about the kids with Type 1.

But what about adult Type 1s?  What about us?  Sure, there's Diabetes Sisters. . .but that's for ALL diabetics, not just those of us who are connected to our insulin for the rest of our damn lives.  It's for the Type 1s, the Type 2s, the Type 1.5s.  (What the HELL is a Type 1.5?)  (That's rhetorical.  I don't honestly care.)  They're even calling people who have a diabetic in their families Type 3 Diabetics.  THAT'S NOT A THING.

It's insulting.  That's all it is.

I guess this is my public rant.  I'm angry about it today, and I'm tired of being put in the same category as someone who sat on their ass and ate fried Cheetos for every meal.  (YES I KNOW that not all Type 2 diabetes cases are caused by lifestyle choices.  But MOST OF THEM ARE.)

The One with the Questionable Campaign

So, I have a Morally Ambiguous Situation™ here, and I wonder the general opinion of my. . .2 readers.

This happened.  The gist of it is that this pastor said that all gays (and lesbians!) should be rounded up and locked electric fence-style, men seperate from women, so that the gay gene would die out.

Never mind this doesn't make any sense, as I believe (but don't quote me on this) that most gay people are spawned from hetero parents.  I believe that the pastor in question is a horrible representation of Christianity, and is one of the worst kinds of people.

But. . .I don't know if the article's suggestion of retribution is the best way to go.  He suggests that everyone send a donation to some gay-friendly organization in the pastor's name so the pastor will be innundated with thank you letters from the organizations.  The author provided the pastor's address, phone number, and e-mail with which to do the signing up.

Now. . .at last count, I saw 190 people who had said they were doing this, sending some donation to a group in the pastor's name.

This is where it gets a little sketchy for me.  Is this pastor dead wrong?  Absolutely.  Does he need to be prevented from speaking in public ever again?  Yes.  Yes he does.  Is he the reason so many people hate Christianity?  For sure.

But this seems. . .over-reaching to me.  I don't know.  I can't reconcile it in my head.  What, exactly, are these people hoping to accomplish?  It's awesome that all these organizations are getting donations, but. . .why does it have to be done this way?  I can't decide if someone as douchey as this pastor is also giving up his right to privacy and not wanting to receive literature from these organizations by being douchey.

And then there were a couple of comments left on this article that REALLY bothered me.

One lady ". . .did this for a 'Pro-Life' neighbor, made a donation to Planned Parenthood in his honor. They sent him a letter of acknowledgement. I never heard another word from him about the sinful pro-choice people;-)."

Like. . .it's the guy's right to be anti-abortion, and he's being sort of harassed about it.  What if the guy had sent pro-life literature to this lady?  Would that have been OK, too?  Granted, I don't know if he made a big deal about it or if he was a jerk or whatever, but I don't. . .think it should matter.

Then. . .

"This is an idea I did 30+ years ago to a preacher at a liberal arts college I was going to. Being Southern Baptist and feeling I needed to experience his god...got a postcard from the LDS church out of a magazine and filled in his information. Four years later...he was still wondering why he was getting twice yearly visits from LDS missionaries in the dorm. Last I heard...he had at least two copies of the Book of Mormon and one of the gigantic tome with all the writings in it."

This seems invasive, too.

But it was this one that really raised my hackles:

"I had a similar neighbor and he had a pro-choice bumper sticker on his car. I went over one veeery early morning and overlaid it with a pro-choice bumper sticker. It was weeks before he discovered it."

I feel like this one, if you want to be dramatic, borders on tresspassing and destruction of someone else's property.  At the very least, it made her even more douchey than the pro-life neighbor.  Why do people feel (on both sides of the fence) that if someone disagrees with them, they have the right to mess with the other person?

So what do you think?  Is it good to harass people through the mail?  Are you in the right?  Is the only opinion that matters yours?

This whole thing really bugged me, so I want to know what other people think.

The One with the Post That Got Eaten

I wrote this really awesome post about causes I feel are important, and how the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation was one that was especially important to me, and I went into this whole thing about how I support it now, etc.

And then it disappeared.

Which is sort of embarrassing, since I linked it up to a Share Your Cause blog link.  My first link up, and Blogger eats my post.

There's a comment someone left on it, so I know it WAS there, but now it says it's not available.

Anyone know why this might have happened?

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 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 the Crying

I have a really embarrassing problem.

I cry. Like, a lot.

I've done it since I was a kid, and it made my parents nuts.

"Sarah. . .STOP crying," was pretty much something I heard all the time. It wasn't like I was doing it on purpose, though, and I know this because the trait has stalked followed me into adulthood.

I cried when I was having a bad day. I cried when I was frustrated. I cried when I thought someone might possibly be looking at me wrong. I cried for no real good reason at all.

This has also frustrated people I've dated, who I've fought with. I'll get into some kind of impassioned discussion, or a fight, and I'd cry. Not because I was sad, and not because I was upset. . .it's just because, for whatever reason, when I'm put into stressful situations, I'll cry, even if there's no cause for tears.

This took D a while to get used to, I think. Because if there's even the first hint of unpleasant conversation, I'll cry. And then I get frustrated that I'm crying, and that makes me cry more. And it's all downhill from there. Even once I calm down, if a conversation along the same lines is begun too soon after I manage to finish crying, I'll start again.

The reason this is so frustrating is actually kind of three-fold. One, once I start, it's really hard to stop, and that makes conversation pretty much impossible.

Two, it accomplishes nothing, and I just look like one of those people who cries to get their way. I've been pulled over by cops a few times, and let me tell you this: I've cried every time, and I've gotten a ticket every time. So it's not like it helps me. If I were doing it on purpose, I would have stopped by now, because it does not work.

Third, it just makes me look pathetic. This is kind of an offshoot of number two, but really, I just look pathetic, like I'm crying to try to get my way. I'm NOT. It just happens.

I called my insulin pump supply company this morning, because I'm almost out of supplies. The back story here is that I called their financial assistance people almost a month ago, and it's been one giant game of phone tag since then. When I finally got someone on the phone, he told me that because I'm employed part-time, they couldn't help me. Predictably, I cried.

I called today to order some and see if they'd let me pay for half a box today and half of it on my next payday. (The back story HERE is that I can only afford one box of 24 tube things at a time, at about $140 per box. However, those people with no insurance, like myself, have to pay for them upfront. They won't bill you later for it.)

Unfortunately, I don't HAVE $140 to spend on pump supplies right now. I have rent money and half a box of supplies money, but that's about it.

So I called and asked, and the lady was like, "No. We can't do that."

So, of course, I cried. But I at least asked to speak to her supervisor. Not because of her, but I figured someone higher than her might be able to help me.

I was on hold for a little while, and managed to regain my composure while I was waiting for her to pick up.

When she did pick up, I immediately started to cry again. It's SO. EMBARRASSING. It's embarrassing, and I wish I knew how to stop it.

(If you're wondering the ending to this story, she did allow me to do the pay half now, pay half later thing. But now I have this fear that, on my account, they've made a note that says, "Cries. A LOT.")

So that's the story. I've done it my whole life, and I want to know how to stop. Because it's annoying. And embarrassing.

Thoughts?

The One Where I Am Maybe Unnecessarily Hateful

I have figured out what I'm going to do with my life.

I am going to continue working at the library, because obviously, it's a badass job, and come summer, I'm going to enroll in the technical college here and get my Associate's in Baking and Pastry Arts.

Sarah's gonna be a pastry chef, y'all.

I've been saying this for. . .a while now, but I'm putting it into black and white on October 25, 2010, so that in a few months, if I haven't said anything else about it, you can be like, "Um, Sarah? Lies."

The main thing I need to figure out is the money. Clearly, I have none. I need to go by the school and find out about financial aid, etc. But I'm DOING IT.

Today at work, people were working my nerves. This happened yesterday, too, but today could have had something to do with the fact that my boss brought in this bundt cake for the birthdays in October, one of which is mine.

(By the way, while I'm thinking about it. . .I'll be doing a French Fridays with Dorie this week! I know I've been remiss since that first week, but my excuse is that the things chosen for weeks were, A) something I didn't want to eat or B) something with expensive ingredients I could not afford at the time. But since this week's recipe is a cake [Awww, yeah!] and all I need to purchase is apples, we're on for Friday.)

(OH! Another by-the-way, speaking of baking, Katie's 19th birthday was on Friday, and when I'd asked her what kind of cake she wanted, she said she wanted a dinosaur-themed cake. So this was her cake, enjoyed by my family last Saturday:

I KNOW, RIGHT?! Awesome. Also, in case you were wondering, and I know you were, those are indeed milk chocolate rocks at the bottom. WIN!)

OK, where was I? Ah yes. The October Birthdays Bundt Cake. I got super busy at work this evening, and by the time I got to the back to enjoy some of the cake, it was gone.

GONE.

My name was one of the ones on the little October Birthdays sign, and I didn't get any cake.

So that bothered me. Maybe you'll say it bothered me more than it should have, but then I'd tell you to SHUT YOUR WHORE MOUTH. It bothered me. So I was a bit moody.

What I should explain about the library is that different librarians deal with different Problem Patrons (PPs) differently. If a PP doesn't have their library card, some librarians will ask them for their name, others will ask for their photo ID, and still others will give them kind of a hard time while asking for their name AND ID. (I ask for a driver's license, if you're wondering.) Stuff like that. There are guidelines in place, yes, but if you mess with the wrong librarian on the wrong day, it's going to be a lot different than if you are sincerely apologetic for leaving your card at home and are nice, and you do not think we OWE you something.

So this kid comes up to me and has like $38 of fines on his card because two of his books are "long overdue" and when that happens, the system adds in the price it would cost to replace the book. He asked me how many books he could check out on his card. I said there's no limit, and he was like, "No, THIS card."

After I saw the fines, I explained to him that the system said I should not let him check them out, due to the fines, but how many he could check out would really depend on which librarian he got. I let him check one out. Nice, right?

Then. This lady waddles up to the desk. I say waddles not because I'm being mean or cruel or whatever, but she was one of those ladies that is approximately as wide as she is tall.

She hands me her card, all surly. I scanned it, and she had $48 dollars of combined fines and lost books dating back to 2008.

I say, "Um, this card has $10 of fines on it, and $38 dollars of book replacement charges."

(There's also a note in the system indicating she is "aware" of the charges.)

She glares at me and says, "Yeah?"

I said, "The system is indicating that you need to clear some of those fines before you can check out anymore books."

She glared at me again. "I ain't got no money with me."

(I'm thinking, "You've had two years to have some money with you.")

I said, "Well, I'm not able to check anything out until some of these fines are cleared."

Now. . .this is not ENTIRELY true. I have the ability to override the system message and check stuff out despite the fines. But this woman's attitude rubbed me entirely the wrong way. If you're going to use a place that has rules, you need to FOLLOW THE DAMN RULES.

She looked at me, confused and irritated, and didn't say anything. I'm guessing this is the part where, in the past, people have said to her, "Oh, OK. I'll take care of it for you this time. Just make sure you bring the money next time you come in!"

Clearly, she had never gotten into Sarah's checkout line.

She just stood there, staring at me.

"You could have a friend check them out for you," I offered.

She shook her head and stared at me.

"Well," I said, "once you get those fines taken care of, you'll be back on track."

She stared at me for another 30 seconds and walked away.

I wondered if I'd been unnecessarily mean. But maybe not. If she'd been nicer to me, it would have been a completely different story. But if you're going to be rude to me, I'm not going to go out of my way for you.

Another problem we have at the library is people leaving. Or rather, not leaving. We close at 9 Monday through Thursday and at 8:45, a message is given over the loudspeaker, indicating we will be closing in 15 minutes. Then another warning is given at 5 'til. Then one says, "The library is closed." Generally, people will wait until the 5-minute warning or the actual "We're closed" message to try to check out their books. At that point, the self-checkouts have been closed down, and I'm forced to do their transactions.

Tonight, though, I'd just HAD ENOUGH. I saw this lady browsing books in the self-help section (!!!) and when the security guard announced, "The library is now closed!", she then started to make her way to the desk. I, however, as soon as I heard the announcement, powered down the computer and went about making arrangements to leave as soon as we got the "All clear!"

She comes over and says she wants to check out, and I say, "Oh. . .I just turned off the computer because the damn library is closed."

To her credit, she says, "Oh, OK. I'll come back tomorrow."

But then the lady who was at the desk with me who is. . .SUCH a people-pleaser, one of those that wants everyone to like her, you know?, says, "Oh, I'll just turn this one back on," and I want to say, "NO! If you do that, they will NEVER LEARN!"

As it turns out, the desk at the back had not powered down their computers yet, so she checked out there.

Am I wrong to do what I did? Am I wrong to be so frustrated with these people? Is society, as a whole, just getting more and more dumb?

Maybe.

The One Where Oprah May or May Not Be Satan

First of all, my posting was featured on Mushroom Printing today! Yay!

I'd mentioned a while back that I was reading the Kitty Kelley biography of Oprah. I finished it last week, and, I have to say, I'm not the least bit surprised at what I read.

I have never liked Oprah. Ever. She had, basically, trashy TV, and then she tried to go all new-agey and "I'll help you help yourself" and while telling people they needed to be healthy, her own personal weight ballooned up and down, effectively making her a hypocrite. Plus, she puts HERSELF on the cover of all of her magazines. I know other people do that, too (Hello, Rachael Ray! Hi, Martha Stewart!), but Martha doesn't do it always, and Rachael is. . .Rachael.

Nothing about Oprah seems sincere, and yeah, she gives money to people and charities, but she also makes sure everyone KNOWS she's giving money to people and charities. She's all, "I know how you FEEL," when talking to poor/downtrodden/whatever people, but y'all? Oprah has not been poor in about 50 years, and she is most certainly NOT downtrodden. She always pulls the race card, but no one's going to say "Boo!" to Oprah.

The book, while not particularly well-written, was interesting and plenty salacious. Obviously, the things written in it are not un-true, because you know if they had been, Kitty Kelley would be sued for everything she's worth and the book would have been yanked off of bookshelves.

So the conclusion that I can come to is that Oprah is just as nasty as I always thought she was.

Then there's the point of this. Oprah's Book Club.

I'm one of those people that, when something I like gets really popular, I'm like, "Dude. . .no." Because what happens then is that people think you like it because of other people liking it, and not because you discovered it first.

I've read a couple of the books on Oprah's list, either not knowing they were on her list, or before they were on her list. Most of them were pretty good. (Except for "Eat, Pray, Love," but that is another post in and of itself.)

I got an e-mail from the library today with the heading "Somebody peeked in the Oprah box!" (which. . .FYI. . .THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!) It was a link to an AP article about how the Associated Press had bought a copy of the book with the "Oprah's (effin') Book Club" sticker on it, so people already knew what the book was, even though it wasn't "announced" until today (Friday.)

The e-mail was talking about how many more copies of the book we'd need, etc.

Then a second e-mail came, talking (complaining) about how, logistically, it's always a nightmare when Oprah announces her books.

I went to the hold system at 2:27 p.m. to see how many holds had been put on the book. There were 330. Right now, at 3:42, there are 347. It'll break 400 by the end of the day, I promise.

This bugs me. Why are people such sheep? Why do so many people worship at the Church of Oprah? What makes her any more special than anyone else?

It bugs me because she KNOWS she has this effect. It bugs me because I don't understand why.

I, for one, will not be reading this book. Mainly because it sounds dumb to me. But also because Oprah recommended "Eat, Pray, Love" and we all know how THAT turned out.

All I'm really saying is that anyone with THAT MUCH mind control over THAT MANY people? Has to be evil.

EDIT: It's 3:46. There are now 350 holds.

The One Where I Boycott Things

I'm all about making a statement. If I think something's unfair, I'll say, "Hey! That's not fair!"

Or if I think something's offensive, I'll be like, "Hey! That's offensive!"

Yesterday, D and I went to this Chinese place near here. We each got the lunch special, which was like $5. Then, thanks to hot mustard (mine) and General Tso's chicken (D's), we got thirsty. D went up to get a tea and maybe a Diet Coke, and the lady was all, "No debit card purchases under $5." And D's like, "I don't have cash, and we just spent a collective $10." And she's all, "No."

(I found out later that technically, stores aren't allowed to do that. They're supposed to take cards for any amount, and that if a store sets a minimum? That's not really allowed. Unfortunately, most credit card companies won't do anything about it, even if you complain.)

So D's pissed. Ultimately, he went to the Food Lion next door and bought two bottles of water, but I don't think we're going to be going back to that particular Chinese place.

That got me thinking about boycotting things. I have a few things I'm currently boycotting, and now I can add that place to the list. Following are my Things I'm Boycotting:

1) That Chinese Place

2) The Bruegger's Bagels in Wake Forest (This is because of terrible, terrible service, and the fact that it's full of rude, snotty people.)

3) Any movie containing Matthew McConaughey (Because OBVIOUSLY!)

4) The morning show "Bob and the Showgram" on one of the radio stations in town.

This one has more of a history. Bob is obnoxious. I can't stand him. His co-host, Mike, is obnoxious, and thinks he's awesome. He's not. They do stupid, stupid things on the show that insult my intelligence anyway. This one morning, they're talking about. . .something, I don't even remember, and the girl co-host, Kristin, was like, "Well, Bob, you think all women are prostitutes anyway." And Bob's all, "Yeah, that's true."

As soon as those words left his mouth, I flipped the station. I was really, really insulted by that, and I didn't even need to know his reason. D's like, "What was that for?" and I said, "I'm not listening to this show anymore. I'm boycotting it." And I have. I have not listened to the show since that day, which was probably in June or July.

I found out later that the reasoning behind that was that Bob feels women don't have sex ever except to gain something, whether immediately, or in the future. Coming from a man who, admittedly, has sex like once a month? Bob needs to SHUT HIS WHORE MOUTH. After finding out the explanation, I'm glad I stopped listening. It's such a popular show that it's not like one person not listening is going to make a difference, but it makes me feel better.

5) BP (I accidentally typed "BO." I guess I'm boycotting that, too.)

6) Family Guy

Now this one, I've never shared, but I'm doing it now. I was up visiting my cousin and her husband a few months back, and her husband (Frank) and I were watching Family Guy. Carrie'd already gone to bed.

In this particular episode, Stewie (the baby) fell down the stairs and was comatose from what was obviously a Traumatic Brain Injury. The entire episode, it was this joke that Brian (the dog) was trying to keep everyone from finding out what had happened. Through it all, the baby is not moving, not responding, etc.

At the end, the mother is backing out of the driveway, and the father, who has since realized the baby is brain-damaged, throws the baby under the car so it looks like the mother has damaged her baby by running over him. Then she's all, "Oh! We can cover this up!"

Some of you might remember my cousin, John, who was in a car accident last Christmas and who himself received a TBI. Unlike the cartoon character, John isn't going to be OK by the next episode. There is nothing at all funny about a kid with a brain injury.

So that's why I'm boycotting Family Guy. Because every time I am around John for extended periods of time, I'm weepy for a week afterwards. Because it's just not fair. At all.

I still have the FG DVDs I bought, but I need to get rid of them, I think. I've been watching what I recognize to be older episodes when I see them on TV, but I feel like that's a cop-out boycott. If I'm going to say I don't appreciate something, I should probably not appreciate it in its entirety.

So. . .if anyone needs the first two box sets of Family Guy DVDs. . .

The One With a Follow-Up on Fake Pregnancies

I wasn't going to mention this because, as I told D, "I KNOW I was right. I don't need to tell everyone." But this? Is about so much more than me being right. It's been eating at me since it happened. Let me explain.

Remember the dramatic, over-sharing girl? I didn't say all this on that posting, because I was afraid of karma, but I told both my cousin Carrie (who knows this girl) and D that I knew, I just KNEW, that she would traumatically "lose" her (non-existent) "baby." JUST IN CASE I was wrong, I didn't want to put that out there in the blogosphere.

But last night? I found this was her facebook status: (I'd checked it with the sole purpose of finding out if she was still "pregnant," because even though there was no reason to worry about anything at all, she was going on and on about how "worried" she was something was wrong.)

"Okay so no more baby. Maybe it is for the best so we can both move on with our lives. :("

I call shenanigans. You'd be a little more upset than THAT if you lost a baby. She follows a comment someone left her up with "It is really hard but I know it is probably for the best. I feel like my child has just been ripped from my arms and there is nothing I can do about it but I also know that right now was not the best time for either one of us to have a baby. Maybe one day I will look back and be happy that things turned out the way they did but for right now I am very very sad and hurt."

I am not personally close with anyone who has lost a baby, but considering how many blogs I read, I've come across quite a few sites, dedicated to the memories of lost unborn babies. From what I understand, that? Is something you are not ever "happy" about. That burned me. Especially when one of her friends expressed sympathy, and said girl says, "Thanks. Next time I'm in NC, we will have to have lunch with those adorable babies!" (Her friend's babies.)

Think. . .you've just lost a kid. How anxious are you to get together with someone with healthy babies?

Her "baby's" "father"? Hasn't even mentioned it. He's just talking about how his new girlfriend is The One.

A mere 24 hours after "losing" her "baby" she says, "I'm planning on having a really productive day today! Wish me luck!"

People like this girl? And the ones that have faked cancer to get sympathy/money/a house paid for? Make me sick. I'm an attention whore. I'll admit that. But never, EVER would I attention whore make up something like this. Not only is it bad karma, but it's deceptively and unfairly tugging on people's heartstrings.

At least one person has said, "Well, there's a small chance that all this really did happen to her." OK. A small chance. Maybe 2%. But judging from her drama-laden background, I'm going to guess that, no. There was never a baby. I also take this from the fact that on Friday when she was "having trouble" with the "baby," the medical terminology and what she said was wrong didn't make any sense at all. None.

So for all the real mothers who have honestly lost a baby? And who have to go through life thinking about that? I give this girl a giant slap across her effing dramatic face. And she deserves more. But it's not worth my time.

The One With Too Much Information

I've mentioned, I'm sure, before my love/hate relationship with facebook. I love (or at least like a little) facebook because I hate (hate HATE) talking on the phone, and it allows me to have interaction with people like that girl I had lunch with that one time on a second grade field trip. Lifelong Friends, you know what I'm sayin'?

Recently, I went through a major clean-out of my facebook friends. I, at one point, had almost 600 "friends." Then I began realizing that a few of them were just people I flat out didn't like, a bunch of them were people I only knew peripherally, and the rest I used to care about, but now do not. Now, I think I have. . .200-ish? And these people fall into the following categories:

1) Family

2) People I actually like (some from Category 1 cross over into Category 2.)

3) People I keep on my list because I might one day need something (An example of this is the class president from high school. . .he sent out the invitation for the 5-year class reunion on facebook, so I'm certain he'll do the same thing for reunion years that I GIVE a crap about.)

. . .and finally

4) People whose lives are such a train wreck that I have to keep them on my list just for my fill of drama that I'm not involved in (some from Categories 1, 2, and 3 are also on this list.)

The people in Category 4 are those people that, despite leaving them on my list, I don't really understand. The people who put every. single. thing. that happens to them on facebook. The kind of people you have to take off your feed because if you don't, it looks like:

9:44 a.m. Sally McOvershare is in the bathroom.

9:53 a.m. Sally McOvershare just took the best crap of her life! LOLz!

10:01 a.m. Sally McOvershare can't decide what she wants for breakfast.

10:15 a.m. Sally McOvershare decided to have waffle and bacon for breakfast LOL!

10:32 a.m. Sally McOvershare is having the WORST CRAMPS EVER! PMS is THE WORST! Like this status if you agree!!!1!!!1!1!!1!1!!

Stuff like that.

What gets even more interesting, though, is when you get someone who feels like facebook is actually called dramabook, and they tell you more than you. . .ever cared to know about their personal life.

8:34 p.m. Kelsey von Info-Overload can't believe her baby's daddy isn't going to pay child support this month.

9:48 p.m. Kelsey von Info-Overload is sooooo mad that she can't have sex tonight!

10:03 p.m. Kelsey von Info-Overload is thinking of calling social services on her child's father! What kind of ass-jerk doesn't even come over when he says he's going to? I can't believe I ever had sex with that guy!

11:06 p.m. Kelsey von Info-Overload just talked to her son's father. We fought, but then decided to have sex. I may have forgotten to take my Pill today. OOOppps! LOL!

You know. . .stuff like that.

There's this girl I know. . .I'll call her Pat. Pat has, in the last 2 years, broken up with her kids' father, her kids' father has gotten into a new relationship, she moved to Oklahoma to be with some guy, they broke up, her kids' father took the kids, which may or may not have been court-mandated, she moved again, she got into a relationship with this guy who finalized his divorce on July 13, they broke up because he's got a new girlfriend, and oh yeah, she's pregnant with his baby now, but she's decided to keep it.

What you may or may not be interested in knowing is that I haven't talked to this girl since approximately February of 2009. So how do I know all this?

Because she posts her entire life on facebook.

Every time she was mad at her Baby Daddy, it went on facebook. Their fights went on facebook. The fights they got in on facebook were then commented upon by their family members.

He posted, when he got divorced, "yay! i'm finally divorced!" This was the slew of comments that ensued (these are verbatim, so misspellings and egregious uses of punctuation and grammar are NOT because of me:

Girl 1: Really? OFicially??

Girl 2: what?! wow!!! it's about damn time too!!!

The Guy: yep i'm officially free. . .kinda :)

Girl 1: your not free by ANYYY means! and your both already planning new weddings?!? ya'll are nuts (I'd like to comment here that it makes me CRAZY when people spell y'all like that. CRAZY. Do people not know BASIC RULES OF CONTRACTIONS?!)

"Pat": We're not planning yet! he still can't get married for six months!

Girl 1: GOOD! I know your smitten but trust me...(GUY'S NAME)??! lmao. JK what day are you guys leaving me again?

"Pat": The 29th! We just packed up the kitchen!

Guy's Mom: You are far from Free! Every time you are around I become Broke!!! LOL

The Guy: ha ha love you mom :)

So, I mean. . .Not only is it bad spelling and punctuation. . .it's just too much information! Friends contributing to it, etc. Pat couldn't have just said, "haha, no, no wedding planning!" She had to get all specific.

The Guy is in a new relationship now anyway, after having broken up with Pat. . .on August 11, the new girlfriend was leaving little hearts on his status updates, at the same time Pat was, on August 18, they were all lovey dovey, and on August 29, New Girlfriend was saying what a great night they had together. So. . .somewhere in there.

My point is, I shouldn't KNOW ALL THIS. One might argue that I don't have to read it, and that's true, but it's really just my desire to see drama that doesn't involve me unfold. It's like celebrity gossip. Except celebrities? They just do things and people find out about it. With facebook, people do things NO ONE has to know about, but they feel the need to tell you about it anyway.

I realize this is getting all rambly, but one more thing I want to share. Facebook also brings out the idiot in already idiotic people. Pat updated (after she told everyone she was pregnant) saying, "I feel so horrible. I just wanna be able to eat a good size meal again!" and the guy who got her pregnant was all, "Lol sorry!!!"

My final thought is I KNOW why people do stuff like that. . .put their dirty laundry on facebook. Because they want the attention. In my opinion, this girl is a freaking idiot. She's a trainwreck anyway, and now she's bringing a new baby into that mess. But all her friends are all, "You're sooo brave!" "You're soooo heroic."

No. You guys? It takes no heroism to have sex without protection, and it take no bravery to have to deal with your mistakes. It's just something you DO. There are exceptions, obviously, but in this case? I have all ideas this was no accident, and now she's attention whoring it up.

The point of all this was, your dirty laundry should stay in the hamper.

The One Where the Next Generation is Effed

I read this article on CNN.com today called "Parents, do you know what these texts mean?" and it had the following examples of 'text speak':

"N2 2CB. WBU?" which means "I'm into hallucinogenics. What about you?" (Obviously, someone ON hallucinogenics came up with this.)

"WTG 4 a \%/" which means "Want to go for a drink?" (I actually figured this one out on my own. It was literally the only one for which I was able to do that.)

"%*@:-(" which means "Hung-over and got a headache." (To me, this one says, "Marge Simpson is having an especially bad hair day.")

"ctn pos. tdtm l8r k? :** :"" apparently means "Can't talk now. Parent over shoulder. Talk dirty to me later, OK? Returning the kiss." (WHAT? I'd heard of POS before [which, to me, will ALWAYS stand for Piece of Shit], and l8r I understand. But. . .I don't even know. I think this actually means "Sorry, my cat is currently walking across my keyboard.")

"No 420? Wiyp?" means "No weed? What is your problem?" (I got the 420 reference. But I don't understand the Wiyp? part of it. We KNOW what the problem is. No weed. [Excuse me. No 420.])

"LM4a~~#ZZZZZZ>" means "Let's meet for a joint." (I honestly don't get this one AT ALL. Can someone explain it to me?)

OK, OK. I get that teenagers (and. . .pre-teens) all use this nonsense and call it communication. What killed me was this part of the article:

Once you get the hang of the language, you can try your hand at translating a real message found by Susan Shankle and Barbara Melton, co-authors of the book "What in the World Are Your Kids Doing Online?"

The message reads:

"1 w45 50 j4ck3d up |457 n16h7. 1 5c0r3d 50m3 cr4ck 47 7h3 p4r7y 50 1'd h4v3 17 f0r 70n16h7 4nd 70m0rr0w, 4nd 7h3n J1mmy 700k 0ff w17h 17, 7h3 455h0|3! 1 4m 4|| j1773ry 4nd n33d 70 m337 up w17h y0u 70n16h7 4f73r my p4r3n75 7h1nk 1 4m 45|33p. c4n y0u m337 m3 47 b0j4n6|3'5 47 m1dn16h7 ju57 f0r 4 f3w m1nu735? 1 ju57 n33d 4 |177|3 4nd 1 c4n p4y y0u b4ck 0n m0nd4y, 1 pr0m153."

Oh my God. OH MY GOD, my EFFING BRAIN just EFFING EXPLODED.

Admittedly, when I was first reading through this, I actually got the basic gist of the message. Once you read it for long enough, you get the basic way it goes. But still.

For those of you who don't speak idiot 'text speak,' the message says this:

"I was so jacked up last night. I scored some crack at the party so I'd have it for tonight and tomorrow, and then Jimmy took off with it, the asshole! I am all jittery and need to meet up with you tonight after my parents think I am asleep. Can you meet me at Bojangle's at midnight just for a few minutes? I just need a little and I can pay you back on Monday, I promise."

My first question, I guess, is this: is it all the stoners who are into this kind of thing? Because the article focused on an awful lot of drug references.

Secondly. . .WHAT is HAPPENING to writing? And reading? And speaking? As a former English major (That's another question. . .once you graduate, are you still whatever your major was? Would I be an English major, or would I be a former English major?), I love words. I love writing them (properly) and reading them (properly). And the fact that all the technology and really, really dumb teenagers we have now is rendering all that useless? Is so, so sad to me. It's also vaguely "A Clockwork Orange."

I'm worried for the day, 50 years from now, when my grandkids are writing me thank you texts notes (please, dear God, please let people continue to write thank you notes.) and they something like:

y0, 6r4ndm4, 7h4nk5 f0r 7h3 5w3473r. 17 r0ck5!!! -71mmy

(Also, if I DO end up giving my grandchildren sweaters, they will be BADASS SWEATERS! With skulls and hookers on them.)

I really am just sad about the state of things nowadays. Even when I was in high school and editing my (then) boyfriend's papers, I was like, "Why can't people WRITE?" And now we're using numbers instead of letters and pictures of Marge Simpson after a night out on the town.

I'm aware I'm probably coming across as a cranky old broad, destined to sit on the porch with her cats and shake my cane at those damn kids who WON'T GET THE EFF OFF MY LAWN!, but really? I think you should have to meet a certain standard of writing before graduating high school, or you just won't be allowed to graduate. Same with college. (And I don't mean to leave out the people who don't finish high school, or don't finish college. For y'all, I say before you get any kind of job, you have to pass a test of some kind, and if you're unable to do that, you can be given some kind of class or something.

Everything's going downhill in my brain right now, because it's kind of late, but trust me. It all makes sense. Stop writing like morons. Because every time you illustrate sexual acts with random keyboard symbols and every time you WrYtE LyKe Dis, and every time you use numbers instead of letters, God kills a kitten. And then he blames you.

The One With the Picky (Ungrateful) Eaters

I work in the training department, and it's basically my job to keep track of the training people do so they are properly trained to do their jobs. I'm pretty sure I've told you this already. A part of being in the training area is that I coordinate the New Employee Orientation days, which includes getting together training materials and ordering lunch. I think I've referenced this before. . .all the pizza?

So, the lady who's here giving the training came up to my desk and said, "They want to know if Jersey Mike's delivers, if they can have sandwiches instead of pizza, because they were like, 'Pizza two days in a row?'"

I was. . .floored. I'm fairly certain that if someone offered to buy me lunch, anywhere, I'd be like, "Sure, great. Thank you!" If it were something I didn't like/didn't eat, then I'd say, "Oh, wow. That's nice of you, but I'm going to be having ______ for lunch." Maybe it's my Southern upbringing, I don't know. But that just seems awfully, awfully rude.

So I said (and, I wasn't actually sure this was true. But it sounded correct.) "I don't think they do delivery. . .I think they just do catering, and it's like a $50 minimum order." The lady looked startled and said, "Oh! OK. That's out."

(Note: I just checked their Web site, and it does not have a minimum order, but it also asks for 24 hours' notice. And I have a feeling they'd be like. . .3 lunches? That's it?")

She comes back and gives me what the people want: a large pizza, 1/2 ground beef, onions, and green peppers and 1/2 ground beef and pineapple. I say, "You know. . .usually we just offer them pepperoni and cheese." She laughed and said that since there were so few people, she decided to be accommodating. (She is, clearly, a lot nicer than I am.)

Then she told me that one of the ladies had said, "Well, at my OLD job, they gave us something different every day!"

I told the lady that it's like the one annoying new kid in high school that, every other word out of their mouth was, "Well, at my OLD school. . ." [I knew one of those. She was in the band and was convinced she was God's gift to clarinet performance. She sat primly in the first chair position, glaring at anyone else who dared sit in HER CHAIR, until the actual chair auditions when she was placed. . .6th. Out of 7. I feel like the fact that the band director always gave her first THIRD part (sorry for the original typo. . .), regardless of where she sat, should have been her first clue. Then she switched to bass clarinet, where she was 1st chair, by default, because she was the only bass clarinet player. Who was it that got the first chair spot? Oh yeah. . .that was me. :0) ]

Anyway, after I made that comparison, she laughed and said, "Yeah, and you want to say to them, 'Then go back to your old school!'"

So I knew she understood.

But seriously?

It's kind of like last week. My company has been working the people here a lot. Much overtime. . .like, 20-hour days. So they were buying some of the people lunch. Pizza, obviously.

One of the girls called up to my desk and was like, "Sarah. . .no one else wants to ask you this, so they made me do it. Would you go ask (the head boss) if, instead of pizza, they could just buy us a bucket of chicken? No fixings. . .and a loaf of bread?"

I laughed (you have to laugh), but went and asked. I don't actually know how that ended, because the head boss guy called down to where the woman had called me from to deal with it himself.

But honestly.

The One Where I Shake It Up a Little

List.

OK, you guys. I have a confession to make.

This list is getting to me.

It seemed like a good idea at first. Something to keep me on track, give me things to write about, and provide a cohesive. . .something or other. (I just wanted to use the word "cohesive.")

But now? Now it's pissing me off. It's pissing me off because I'm so far behind (Today is supposed to be Day 21. I am currently on Day 13. I've missed a week.) It's pissing me off because today's prompt is supposed to be about a fictional book, and I've already DONE a post on fictional books.

So here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to ask for suggestions. I'm going to do the prompt for Day 22 today, and I'm going to ask, first of all, for a prompt to take the place of fictional books, and, secondly, I'm going to ask for people to help me put these in random order. If you go check out the list (the link's at the top of the page), leave me a note saying which one you think I should do next. When I do postings regarding The List, I'll ask for suggestions of what to do next. It's fun! It's interactive! It's going to make The List stop pissing me off!

So, in short, today I'm doing Day 21. I'm asking for a replacement for fictional book, and I'm asking for ordering suggestions.

I'd much appreciate it.

So, without further adieu. . .

Day 13 (Day 22) -- a Web Site

I read a lot of blogs. A lot. I've mentioned this. But there's one or two that I get really excited about when they pop up on Google Reader. Jenny's blog is one of these. She has, like, a kabillion followers, and she's so freaking hilarious. I laugh at almost every post. Sometimes, I laugh at posts out loud, and then people look at me funny.

Her conversations with her husband are always hysterical. She posts random thoughts. She buys ugly dead boar heads and names them after dead presidents. Basically, she's amazing, and I love her in a not-too-creepy way.

Also, she's. . .profane. But in a lovely way. Point here is that if you're easily offended, you should avoid her site at all costs.

I swear, I'm going to write all about Carol's wedding at some point. Because I want to catalogue its awesomeness.