One Thing I Learned Today
Me Big Funny Ha-Ha
Well, I'm leaving Scotland tomorrow morning, and I've learned that no matter how coincidental my timing, I am always a hair off-target as far as seeing various Worcesterites en route. I missed Liam, and now I will miss James. Jimbo (bet no one's ever called you that, eh?), have a safe and smooth journey, and above all enjoy NY. I'll see y'all back home. In the meantime, I'm off to buy a pair of hedgetrimmers so I can cut every single daffodil from the University campus when the sun sets. That'll teach that bastard gardener once and for all. We all need our legacies.

Court, my favorite flavour of ice-cream is death by chocolate. Please use this information.
This might amuse you...
Who should be in charge?

- "I should be in charge" said the blood, "because I circulate oxygen all over so without me you'd all waste away."
- "I should be in charge," said the stomach, "Because I process food and give all of you energy."
- "I should be in charge," said the legs, "Because I carry the body wherever it needs to go."
- "I should be in charge," said the eyes, "Because I allow the body to see where it goes."
- "I should be in charge, " said the rectum, "Because I'm responsible for waste removal."

All the other body parts laughed at the rectum and insulted him, so in a huff, he shut down tight.

Within a few days, the brain had a terrible headache, the stomach was bloated, the legs got wobbly, the eyes got watery, and the blood was toxic. They all decided that the rectum should be the boss.

The moral of the story?

Arseholes are usually in charge whether we think it's a good idea or not.

God, save me from the PINCHING!
My least favorite holiday in this country is St. Patrick's Day. For some reason, it allows near strangers the luxury and opportunity to pinch me just cause I flatly refuse to wear green. So either you have to submit to annoying gimmicks, or get abused at work.

St Paul is full of "Irish Catholics" who have decided they are as irish, plain and simple, dress up in green and use their fingers against others :(

Someone at work warned me yesterday that I needed to wear green--I told her I am a Green so I don't need to wear any. I hope that'll work all day...
Flower power, you hedgetrimming bastard
Holy shiznet, I'm leaving Scotland in 17 days. For why does this things happening of me? I've apparently turned on all of Scotland, as I'm starting to commit acts of passive defiance all around Edinburgh. I got yelled at yesterday for picking a bouquet of daffodils for Elias from the University grounds. Don't these people know about romance?! The good news is, I got away with the half-dozen or so flowers I had already picked. But we live *literally* across the street from the university, so every morning when I open the curtains I almost expect to see the old bugger giving me the eye from the flower garden, hedgetrimmers in hand. Someday at five in the morning I'm gonna go and take every single daffodil, put them in giant pots all around my front door, and then smile at him while watering the flowers.

And I wonder why no one will hire me.
Not really preventing fires
I learned today that fire code inspections really are pointless. We received a letter stating that we would be having a fire code inspection at 1 pm this past Saturday. Uhh...so I got out a big box, put all my candles in it, put back in the smoke detector (we can't even make toast with it in), and then put it all back up (or took it down again) 5 minutes after they left.

Oh well. Something to do, I guess.

On a different note--I went to see Amy Tan with my mom last night and she was really funny, except she kept talking about death--but I guess to lose her brother and dad both to brain tumors in the same year and then her editor and her mom in the same year would do something to a person. But she was very entertaining, which I guess will make up for The Bonesetter's Daughter.
I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggonit, people like me
Today I learned that while I'm not good enough for English Lit PhD programs (current tally: four rejections, one waitlist, three silent but expected rejections), I'm definitely too good for this company. I applied for an editorial position just over a week ago, and last Friday they called me in to take an "editor test" to make sure I know basic grammar or something. I scored in the 98th percentile on the test. They scheduled an interview with the editorial team and manager right away, and I had that this morning.

Five minutes ago HR called to make me a verbal offer. Talk about quick.

The universe is trying to tell me something.
Liam and I are learning to swing dance. Last night was our first class. It's very enjoyable, although sometimes they go at such a slow pace you wonder how *any* of the participants could possibly still not have it down. They repeat the "rock-step, tri-ple-step, tri-ple-step" mantra so many times I heard it in my sleep. Then the instructors tell us to try it on our own and you realize that half the people are still rocking back and forth stiffly, looking disturbingly like Steve Martin in "The Jerk" when he's trying to dance like his adopted black family.

And of course, as with every dance class, they make you change partners. All "followers" had to move to the right in our big learning circle. On my right was a string of slightly creepy older men with clammy hands. I couldn't help but wonder about their motives for being in the class. Of course, to Liam's left stood all of the cute 20-something girls in the room. I really lucked out there.


That's what I think of the Edinburgh job scene.

Anyone else notice the Governator's sudden turnaround in his stance on gay marriage?! Can't say I wasn't happy about his (suspicious, aptly-timed) change of heart, as I'm sure the rest of the 'We're here, we're queer, rah rah rah' crowd must be...but only because it's a kick in the balls for Dubya and his fucking 'constitutional amendment' high horse. Even that is only a kick in the balls because Arnie not ONLY has political naivety, but also jurisdiction of one of the most powerful voting states, as well as the media eye. Oh well, one more state. I can't believe he got elected there in the first place. Who ever heard of a homophobic ex-bodybuilder trying to run a state that contains San Francisco?? Check out the campaign for gay marriage rights here. And sign the Million for Marriage petition, if you are so inclined.
Peter Jackson is nothing like Alfred Hitchcock...
...says me. For as we all know, boys and girls, old Hitch never got a single Oscar. So the resemblance stops somewhere around the belly and does not extend to the "little man".

Of course, no-one has ever really compared Peter Jackson to Alfred Hitchcock apart from me, a couple of weeks ago in a caption on a picture on this weblog, but I still thought it worth pointing out.
Raging Grannies
Monica, a Raging Granny who is not Meg's gran. Protest groups don't come much cooler than this. The Raging Grannies of Seattle must have taken some inspiration from Jenny Joseph's poem Warning!. Their logo is even a purple-clad old lady. I like their style.

Their website has a contact for them here in Rochester. If I fitted the criteria I'd join up, but when you consider that I'd have to have a sex change, learn to sing, have a child to supply me with grandchildren and wait thirty years in the meantime it looks as if I wouldn't be their ideal recruit. Besides, purple just doesn't suit my complexion.

Of course, the perfect candidate would be Meg's gran, Juanita. She's a kick-ass lady, she can sing up a storm, and I bet she looks cracking in purple. Meg, what do you say?