"The guy is smarter than anyone I know. If you were to open up his head, his brain would burst out like an airbag."
From "Spook" by Mary Roach.
This is what it means to be admired. What an awesome metaphor!
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Monday, April 23, 2007
Presidents Who Resemble Catfish
Someone came up to the desk a few weeks ago and launched into this little statement with no preamble:
"I have scrutinized THOSE BOOKS and George W. Bush and Abraham Lincoln look like CATFISH!"
"..."
Once again, the public rendered me speechless.
Before I could even begin to think up an appropriate response to that, the guy left. I nodded to myself and filed the interaction away for later processing.
The next person who came up didn't actually need any help either, he just wanted to let me know his thoughts on the catfish guy: "Oh yeah, I bet he scrutinized those books. They don't look anything at all like catfish." This from a well-known built-in bookcase who might be missing a few shelves himself. "They look like rodents; ask anyone and they'll agree."
Luckily, my hour was up and I escaped to my closet-like office and hid behind the door until I was sure it was safe to come out.
Most days I have the words "FREAKS TALK TO ME" written in invisible-to-regular-people ink on my forehead. Most of the time I'm totally all right with that. I pretty much meet other people's definition of Nutcake myself. When anyone starts in with politics though, even just cosmetic opinions from a whole different century, it's usually time to take a break.
For the record, Lincoln totally looks like a falcon or some other big bird of prey, don't you think?
"I have scrutinized THOSE BOOKS and George W. Bush and Abraham Lincoln look like CATFISH!"
"..."
Once again, the public rendered me speechless.
Before I could even begin to think up an appropriate response to that, the guy left. I nodded to myself and filed the interaction away for later processing.
The next person who came up didn't actually need any help either, he just wanted to let me know his thoughts on the catfish guy: "Oh yeah, I bet he scrutinized those books. They don't look anything at all like catfish." This from a well-known built-in bookcase who might be missing a few shelves himself. "They look like rodents; ask anyone and they'll agree."
Luckily, my hour was up and I escaped to my closet-like office and hid behind the door until I was sure it was safe to come out.
Most days I have the words "FREAKS TALK TO ME" written in invisible-to-regular-people ink on my forehead. Most of the time I'm totally all right with that. I pretty much meet other people's definition of Nutcake myself. When anyone starts in with politics though, even just cosmetic opinions from a whole different century, it's usually time to take a break.
For the record, Lincoln totally looks like a falcon or some other big bird of prey, don't you think?
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Have you missed me?
I am entering this on my new laptop, courtesy of the wireless router Chris just bought. Chris actually fixed this up for me so that everything runs. I have trouble even turning it on and off. I picked it up last night and realized it had been in standby mode for 2 days. I'm not technologically inclined.
I'm learning all the things that millions of people in the US have known for years: cats dig sacking out on the keyboard when you're typing, internal touch pads are in alternating cycles irritatingly sensitive and then completely unresponsive, the message "No problem detected" really gets on my nerves when there IS a problem or I wouldn't be running a program to help me figure out what it is.
Enough about that though, let's talk about the amazing array of life at the library's lobby level. I have heard 3 "My Evil Twin Stole My Identity and I Can't Do Anything About It Because S/he Looks Just Like Me" stories this month. Not always twins; some people just have the bad luck to look like their siblings. And not always evil; but definitely delinquent. So it appears that numerous people in the metro area have managed to get government issued IDs that have their brother's/sister's info as their own, which I find a little hard to believe, but not totally impossible. What to do with those accounts?
Chris just asked, "Are you blogging?"
"Mm-hmm," I said.
"Are you writing about the, uh, loaf of bread?"
"No. Do you want me to?"
"Not really."
Chris made up an awesomely raunchy sex joke while we were coming back from Pambiche earilier today, one that involved a loaf of bread and other baked goods and had me laughing so hard I was snorting into the steering wheel, but I have taken an oath to not post it here.
Sorry.
Okay, I'd say this entry has been long and pointless enough. I am back online and officially committed to bringing you more stories about whatever whenever.
La la la!
I am entering this on my new laptop, courtesy of the wireless router Chris just bought. Chris actually fixed this up for me so that everything runs. I have trouble even turning it on and off. I picked it up last night and realized it had been in standby mode for 2 days. I'm not technologically inclined.
I'm learning all the things that millions of people in the US have known for years: cats dig sacking out on the keyboard when you're typing, internal touch pads are in alternating cycles irritatingly sensitive and then completely unresponsive, the message "No problem detected" really gets on my nerves when there IS a problem or I wouldn't be running a program to help me figure out what it is.
Enough about that though, let's talk about the amazing array of life at the library's lobby level. I have heard 3 "My Evil Twin Stole My Identity and I Can't Do Anything About It Because S/he Looks Just Like Me" stories this month. Not always twins; some people just have the bad luck to look like their siblings. And not always evil; but definitely delinquent. So it appears that numerous people in the metro area have managed to get government issued IDs that have their brother's/sister's info as their own, which I find a little hard to believe, but not totally impossible. What to do with those accounts?
Chris just asked, "Are you blogging?"
"Mm-hmm," I said.
"Are you writing about the, uh, loaf of bread?"
"No. Do you want me to?"
"Not really."
Chris made up an awesomely raunchy sex joke while we were coming back from Pambiche earilier today, one that involved a loaf of bread and other baked goods and had me laughing so hard I was snorting into the steering wheel, but I have taken an oath to not post it here.
Sorry.
Okay, I'd say this entry has been long and pointless enough. I am back online and officially committed to bringing you more stories about whatever whenever.
La la la!
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