July 24, 2009
Oranges & Apricots
So my boss is in charge of the Bible study for some event he's going to, and he had me make 50 hand-outs to accompany his talk. Pictures of Masaccio's fresco The Expulsion of Adam and Eve from Eden.
Real uplifting stuff, eh?
So I hit print and hear the printer wind up and print two... but then it stops. Great. Paper jam. I walk over there to find my openly gay co-worker, Sam, already at the printer.
Sam: Is this you, printing out Adam and Eve's Expulsion from Hell?
PW: Expulsion from Eden.
S: Whatever. I thought I was getting a fax, and all of a sudden, there's penises printing out!
PW: Where are they?
S: I think there's a paper jam.
PW: Well, open it up!
S: [pops open the front cover] Wow! Lookit all the apricot dials!
PW: You know how I know you're gay?
S: Because I said apricot?
PW: Totally. A straight guy would've said orange.
S: Apricot isn't gay!
PW: Of course, it is!
S: It's not like I said mauve!
PW: Straight guys only know five colors, and two of them are black. And none of them are APRICOT!
S: I think you're avoiding the real issue.
PW: Which is?
S: Why are you printing off penises?
PW: They're for Boss' bible study.
S: ...
Posted at 10:52 AM | Comments (1)July 08, 2009
Loud 'n' Proud!
Top Ten Most Awesome Things About the Gay Pride Parade
10. Drinking before noon. On the street.
9. Leather. Leather. Leather.
8. Hot, mostly-naked men, smiling and waving at me.
7. Gay Republicans -- "Big dicks. Small government."
6. No kids running into the street.
5. Naughty Catholic Schoolgirl Dykes on Bikes!
3. Did I mention the leather?
2. Assless naughty catholic schoolgirl skirt.
And the number one most awesome thing about the Pride Parade?
1. My date.
July 06, 2009
Patriotic Rant, Grandpa Simpson Style
Now, I don't like to use my blog to preach. Who wants to listen to that? Ocassionally, I will expound the virtues of Barbies vs. Bratz, or rag about people with particularly rude habits. However, as a rule, I stay away from politically charged topics.
I don't give a shit what any celebrity thinks about America or recycling or the war or whatever -- so it's safe to assume that you people would rather go tidy up the kitchen than hear what I have to say about our local parades. And if such is the case, please go clean. The food stuck in your sink drain is starting to smell.
(Please bear in mind that this rant does NOT pertain to our Norwegian Day Parade, 17 Mai, because that always rocks da hizzouse.)
When I was little, our parades used to be something to anticipate for days before and talk about for weeks after. There were quite a few marching bands, including all the high schools, the Shriners and the local competition-level drum and bugle corps. The Shriners also rode those giant olde tyme bicycles, tiny cars, flying carpets. One year, I lucked out and got to ride on a flying carpet because one of the Shriners knew my parents. Score! I'm sure my sense of euphoria was only heightened by the diesel fumes I was sucking down. Double-score!
There was a middle-aged, mentally challenged man, named Chickie, who lived in our town back then. In fact, he lived right down the street from me. He would ride his bike all over town and was very friendly and talkative, so everyone knew him. The mayor always let him carry a big American flag and lead-off the parade, and he got such a kick out of it. I kind of miss Chickie. If this were The Great American Novel, instead of some lame-ass blog, I might say that The True Spirit of the Patriotic Parade died when Chickie did...
I do NOT, however, miss Chickie's self-proclaimed girlfriend, Charlotte. She, too, was a bit challenged, but not as beloved as Chickie. One time, she chased my friend and I down the street, beating us with her giant, black purse. You know how hard it is to run from a crazy person? Crazy people are HELLAFAST, and it didn't help that we were laughing hysterically. Ah, good times.
Anyhoo, I remember my parents teaching me to always stand when the veterans and American flag went by, and when the National Anthem was played. And it seems to me there were more soldiers back then. Did a contingency of the Illinois National Guard march in our parades? I don't know. I just know that there was a lot more focus on the real significance of Memorial Day and Independence Day.
The focus now? Candy. Everyone throws it into the street so the kids can run and get it. Besides being a safety hazard, and a bitch for the city to clean up afterwards, I kind of resent our days of patriotic remembrance being turned into Spring-Halloween and Summer-Halloween.
Here is Stella displaying a small fraction of the crap that we carted home from the Memorial Day parade.
I also don't like -- oh, my God, I am so Pa Kettle today -- I don't like the politicians using the parade to campaign. Speaking as someone who believes that politicians are much more interested in the good of their wallets than the good of the city/county/state/country, they have no business taking up space in what is supposed to be a tribute to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, as they are most often the ones getting in the way of my liberty and happy pursuits.
In addition to all the campaign flyers distributed at the parades, every local business uses it as an opportunity for free advertising. It's sickening. They print up leaflets with American flags on them and what? Honor our coutry's heros by giving us $5 off our next order? C'MON!
And here's where everyone under the age of eighty tunes out. If you haven't already.
BACK IN MY DAY...
Everyone dressed in uniform and walked in formation. Hell, the Girl Scouts and Brownies wore hats and little, white gloves. None of this aimless milling about. If there was a dance troup, they danced! If there was a band, they played! Every organization had homemade banners and carried them proudly. And everyone dressed like they were in a parade, not taking out the garbage.
Our town's Memorial Day parade was so disappointing this year, I skipped the 4th of July parade. I like going and cheering when the vets go by, but next year, I may leave right after that. Or maybe I'll demand that the city hire me to be the parade coordinator.
Okay. Sadly getting down off my soapbox now. Sorry for being such a crotchety old coot today.
Posted at 07:52 AM | Comments (2)July 03, 2009
Introduction to My Boss
PhD Boss: Wenchie. C'mere.
PW: [grab my pen and notepad, go sit in his cube] What do you need?
PhDB: What's your favorite candy bar in the whole world?
PW: Um... Rolo Bits, but they don't make those anymore, soooo probably Milky Way.
PhDB: Wrong. Twix. Is the best.
PW: Um... okay.
PhDB: ...
PW: So, what do you need?
PhDB: Nothing.
PW: You called me over here to ask me what my favorite candy bar is?
PhDB: Yes.
PW: Because... you're going to buy me one?
PhDB: No.
PW: Okay, don't ask me for anything else for the rest of the day.
Posted at 10:52 AM | Comments (1)July 01, 2009
Round Food and Low Expectations
I am the only one in my department today. PhD Boss is in Columbus, Ohio. Rev. Boss is in Detroit, Michigan. And Executive Administrative Assistant is in bed, I hope, because she sounded like crap yesterday. Either way, she's not here spreading her germs, and that's what counts.
Well, actually, the Intern is here, but she's so tiny and adorable and passive, she's barely even a blip on my radar. And she certainly doesn't have the balls to tell me to stop painting my nails (mirror-finish baby pink!) and surfing Facebook, so she's basically a non-entity.
Husband is going to give a presentation at Vacation Bible School this morning. I don't know why. I mean, besides the fact that he was asked to. He doesn't bible-school-aged children anymore. I think he just likes talking about plants. He's going to teach them about growing tomatos or something. My eyes glaze over at the very thought, so I don't know how the young 'uns are going to take it. Two minutes of plant-talk, and I'd be BEGGING to build a diorama of Noah's ark.
Anyhoo, his presentation was at 10:00 a.m., which means that we could go out to breakfast together without fearing recourse from our jobs! This concept is rare even on weekends, and unheard of on weekdays.
So, we went to the Pancake House. (Not to be confused with International House of Crapcakes, which I will not even dignify with a link.)
My entire breakfast was round this morning. I got ten silver dollar pancakes, two sausage patties, and orange juice, which comes from a round fruit. It was very Sesame Street-esque. Are coffee beans round? Because I had two cups of coffee, too. And now I'm waiting for the bathroom to be vacant so I can go poop in the round potty.
Today's blog was supposed to be about the Gay Pride Parade, which I attended over the weekend. But I have a TON of photos to go through. So you have that to look forward to.
What I'M looking forward to is painting our butt-ugly powder room this weekend. And in order to find a previous post on said powder room, so that you can see photos of it and shrink in terror, I typed in "bathroom" in my blog's Search box. It came up with 81 blogs containing the word bathroom. I may have some sort of fixation. Anyhoo, here's the post, so you can see why I'm so eager to change the walls.
In theory, it should only mean one trip to Home Depot for paint and a new light. The foil actually comes off the wall very easily, leaving only the backing to scrape off. And with the help of toxic chemicals, that should be a breeze. And then we paint, and I can hang pretty things on the walls! Yay!
Now, I can't argue that we could -- and should -- get rid of the tile on the walls. And the floor. But frankly? I'd rather spend the money on a 50" t.v. than a whole remodel. I can live with partial-ugly. And with my standards set so low, I should be able to fit in a nap on Friday and still be done in time to watch a couple epsides of Burn Notice before betime.
And now I've just jinxed us by talking about what a snap it will be, so we'll be divorced by Monday, surely.
Posted at 10:27 AM | Comments (1)