| Just a quickie |
Because I've been unable to stop thinking about this whole short people vs long people thing, I thought I'd share with you a wee little anecdote.
A few years ago, I spent some time in England, studying and working. To supplement my travel fund, I took up nannying briefly. I had two charges, Ben (8) and Amy (5). They were lovely children with darling little lilts to their sweet little voices. Which is why I was unprepared for this conversation I had with Amy once, while she was sitting on my lap.
Amy: Meagan? (They're a formal people there.)
Me: Yes, Amy?
Amy: Are you a midget?
Me: I'm sorry?
Amy, turning to face me: I said, are you a midget?
Me: Um. No, Amy, no I'm not. I'm just a shorter person.
Amy: Are you sure?
Me: Pretty sure. Why do you ask?
Amy: A boy in my class, his mum is a midget. (Pregnant pause) And she's small. (Huge pause) So I was thinking...that...maybe...you both were...you know.
Me: Amy. For real. I'm not a midget. I mean. Sure, I'm not as tall as your mom or dad, but um...I totally hold my own.
Amy: Meagan, are you sure you're not a midget? Because you could tell me, you know.
Me: Go to your room.
Okay, so I didn't really send her to her room. But ask me about how her brother wanted me to "braid his long hairs, just like dad."
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| Sorry, I didn't quite get that. Perhaps I'll stand on a stool. |
I have some bad news. Turns out, taller people are smarter than shorter people. I know! Shocking!
The article (co-authored by two freakishly tall 5'8" lady researchers- get back to the WNBA, girls!) claims that taller people have better self esteem, no doubt as a result of their always being able to find pants ON THE FIRST TRY and not having to take them to Mr Ferrari up over on Ditmars to get super-hemmed. They are also found to have better health, which isn't surprising because I feel that the stress from never being able to reach stuff with your stumpy T-Rex arms can be detrimental to the integrity of one's constitution. Additionally, and probably of greater importance, taller people are more likely to have higher-paying occupations (the midget porn just doesn't pay as well, not sure why) that require better communicative skills, leading to this vicious cycle of overpaid, overly flowery, tall pretty people possessing nothing more than big clothes and a lack of brevity. Though this could just be my take.
In case you can't tell, I am not one of the tall smartypantses. Or should that be smartypantsERS? Not sure. Wish I was tall so that I could figure it out. I stand a very imposing almost 5'2". Yeah, that's right. I'm a monster. When I'm in surgery at work, they have to pull up a special stool so that I can see the whole table. However, I do want it noted that I am the tallest woman in my family. Among my redheaded, potato farming clan, I'm known as Legs. And Stretch. And You Tall Drink Of Water. (Okay, fine. I'm not known as that. I mean, I fucking tried to get them to address me as such but they were SO resistant. I think they didn't quite understand- they're even shorter than I. Plus they're foreign, so...you know...)
I was talking to ole 6'3" Lozo about this article and we had the following conversation:
Me: It's just silly. Who needs to be that tall?
Lozo: I guess you and your meager intelligence can't grasp it.
Me: Guess so. Nobody ever bolstered my self-esteem like they did yours. Nobody ever paid me enough.
Lozo: Why would they? You're not over six feet.
Me: For a VERY long time, I wasn't over five feet.
Lozo: You should go stare at some twinkly lights.
Me: You should go blow a giraffe.
Lozo: Giraffes are tall. It would probably be educational.
Me: How big do you think their penises are?
Lozo: That all depends on genetics.
Me: Wow, you're wise. Being tall really is the way to go.
Lozo: Yeah, it's a great lifestyle.
Then Lozo started crying and confessed to being a giant (literally) homosexual, and wept about how Bill had rejected him. Again. He's really a taxing friend to have, that big queeny Lozo. But I digress.
I got to thinking about how some people have a "type." (Like, how my type is Joaquin Phoenix. And how Lozo's type is male. Just to reiterate. He loves men.) In any case, I decided to get that leg lengthening surgery to see if I became instantly more popular with the menfolk. So, here's a before photo of me with my pet bird, Stinker.
Not bad. Cute as a button, for sure, but do I look that smart? I just don't know.
So here I am, post-op. I included a couple of different angles, just FYI.
Wow. Quite a difference. Not only am I prettier, but I look downright BRILLIANT. I love me more than ever now!
Love,
The New And Improved Taller A Lover And A Fighter
PS- Sorry for not actually posting the photos. Blogger is being a dick today.
PPS-Blogger doesn't recognize its own name in spellcheck. Idiot. |
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| Sweet Jesus |
Did you guys read this? We all know how I feel about food or other inanimate objects and their resemblence to religious figures, or body parts. I'm pro! Which is why I was so excited to see this chocolate that resembles the Virgin Mary. Look what Cruz Jacinto found:
 The Virgin Mary! Chocolatey Deliciousness! There are lots of articles about how the chocolate drippings that formed this Holy Lady normally lie flat and thin on waxed paper before they are collected, but Cruz noticed they were in a lump and she picked up the lump and it was JESUS' MOM, Y'ALL.
My favorite part of the CBS article to which I linked (and the reason that I chose it out of all of its competitors) actually comes in the form of a comment posted after the article:
Oh, please. Why are so many people more fasinated with ojects (sic)- in this case a piece of chocolate - than they are with God's revealed truth? The Bible shows us who God is and how He has purchased forgiveness through Christ's death on the Cross. Unless we turn from our sin and surrender to Christ's offer of grace we will have to suffer for our own sins. That is so much more important than how a deformed piece of candy looks. After all, no one even knows what Mary looked like.
Posted by davebethel at 12:30 PM : Aug 18, 2006
ZING! Man, did davebethel show those worshippers what's up! Way to poo poo on their parade, davebethel.
Obviously, davebethel is choosing to ignore the repeated appearances that Mary likes to make in snacks. NOT JUST CANDY! Please see below.
Here she is in a sandwich:
And here she's getting a bit of a caffeine buzz (which she can do now that she's not nursing the baby Jesus anymore), having some toast (I know, who eats so many carbs these days? what a heifer), here she decided to grace a holy peanut, here she's hanging out with a jawbreaker (she brought the Christ Child with her this time), here she is enjoying (and who doesn't) the occasional Pop-Tart brand toaster pastry, and finally, a big old glass of chocolate milk to wash it all down.
(Apparently, it's a family tradition to appear in junk food, because here is Mary's boy in a potato chip.)
My point is this: davebethel, perhaps the revelation of God's truth and the piece of chocolate (or legume, or latte, or candy, or whatever) are not mutually exclusive, as you seem to think. Maybe the reason you're being such a snarky bitch about people getting excited over these images is because you are insanely jealous that religious figures have not revealed themselves to you in your daily snacks. Or, worse yet, maybe they tried and you eschewed their attempts because you don't eat any of the tasty (if not a little fattening) treats where deities like to chill. Hope you're happy with yourself, davebethel. Hope it's worth it when your pants zip easily in the afterlife.
As for me, I'm not going to be wearing pants in the afterlife.
Love,
A Lover And A Fighter
Related: Mother Theresa goes well with a good cup of coffee |
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| A few gems that couldn't go unposted... |
Indulge me.
Here are a few more pictures from my trip that I know need to be circulated on the internet. Skip them if you're not interested.
 Lolo and La Chanteuse drinking margaritas from the bucket. Who needs that shit frozen? Not us.
Morchy volunteered to be the DD (always stay safe, kids!) after dinner on Saturday night so that the rest of us could do this:
Here are my pretty friends in a pretty gazebo:
And here we find La Chanteuse getting eaten by some sweet ladies:
There's also a video of everyone singing "I Say A Little Prayer For You" in their best tranny voices, but I might have to wait and upload that to YouTube first. Or I may not, because it's probably only truly hilarious to me.
There, I have all my vacationing out of my system. You won't have to hear about it ever again. Well, almost...
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| Blazing Amazing Part 2 (continued from post below) |
It's worth mentioning that La Chanteuse and I had to stage a dramatic exit from Hotel #1, the HORRIBLE AND WRETCHED BEAR TREE LODGE! Never ever ever stay here. The place was a dump, the owners are bastards, and we're pretty sure they're homophobic. They were the one dark spot on an otherwise flawless vacation. Damn you, Bear Tree Lodge! In a moment of (somewhat) false bravado, La Chanteuse and I had to go in and demand (by way of apology and weeping) our money back. We played Good Cop, Bad Cop. I was the Good Cop. I should have been worse. Like maybe we should have done Mediocre Cop, Mentally Unstable Cop. That might have been a more efficacious choice. In any case, our first step was sneakily packing our bags and throwing them in the car before we went over to the main desk to complain. Here we are, victorious after having finished Phase One of the slowest Fast One ever pulled:
Let's just say that Phase two was less successful. (Interestingly enough, we were housed in Cabin 2. And I was so mad at them that I went- a rather vindictive- #2 on their pillows in the bathroom like a normal person before we left. HA. Take THAT, Bear Tree Lodge BASTARDS!)
After we got a new hotel and watched the worst production of West Side Story ever, we visited the farmhouse where we all used to live. Interestingly enough, though we haven't been there in years, there are still subtle remnants of our occupancy:
Yup, that was our room. Cooterz R Us. It was a thriving business venture in its day.
Altogether too soon, it was time to head home. We were 5 in a small-ish car, so it's nice that we're all such good friends. See, here is a picture of Morchy reading me a story to lull me to sleep:
Like an angel! If you look closely, you can see evidence of the beer neck and goiter that apparently none of my friends ever felt like telling me I had (<---- man, that was awkward). Thanks, guys. Thanks a lot.
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| Blazing Amazing |
So this past weekend, I went on a little road trip with some friends. It was a very educational experience. We all learned a lot. For instance, I learned what happens when one subsists entirely on a diet of margaritas and Cheez-Its brand snack crackers (stomach aches), or what happens when you drink several martinis and then tries to sit through a production of West Side Story without loudly passing gas judgment on the performances (you're loud). The important stuff.
I had so much fun because I went to a beautiful place with some beautiful people. The pictures are now starting to fly back and forth, and I knew I'd be remiss in not sharing some of the best ones with you.
First of all, I should mention that I went to New Hampshire. (Perhaps some of you remember how I humiliated myself here in the past. ) It's one of the most gorgeous places ever. I was in the Lakes Region near the base of the White Mountains, not that I did anything particularly Lakey or Mountainy. (I stuck to all things boozey and eaty.) One of the first things we saw as we stopped for what was to be #1 of 7 meals that day was this:
 Obviously, I ran in as fast as my stubby little legs would take me, but it wasn't the magical door I'd thought it would be. So disappointing.
Here is a picture of me at Moulton Farms, one of my fave New Hampshire hangouts. Why? Because they have nothing but flowers and food. See how pretty it is behind me? And please note the nugget of turkey jerky in my hand. It was great.
 Here is a picture that Kevin took of the pretty place where we got to live for a few days:
 Jealous? Thought so.
Blogger is being a dick, so the rest of this tale will be continued in the following post. Thanks. |
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| Spam E-Mail I Got Today, by A Lover And A Fighter |
Subject line- Oyhyl
Ahem.
primitive, virile, important men. Strength through strength. I like
I havent stolen anything! Definitely a quaver now.
then lowered it all down the chimney. Reaching down as far as I could
No. But I have read my mythology. Its better that you see the rest
receiver. Simple. Just put your index finger into your ear and talk
handgun on each hip. But the guns were holstered and held in place by...
And that's where it stops. I cannot WAIT for the next installment! My index fingers are in my ear and I am talking away handgun on each hip, so I'm doing everything right.
Eeeek! So exciting! |
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| Until we meet again |
I'm going out of town for the weekend, so I won't be blogging for a few days. Try to keep it together.
I am kind enough, however, to leave you a few tidbits in my absence.
First, this cute cute photo of bitey puppies:
And then, of course, something to make you think:
Be well, friends. |
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| Share and share alike |
So at work we have two bathrooms to share amongst the whole floor. Everyone has a key and one key works for both bathrooms. Normally, it is a very efficient, private system that is easy and beneficial to us all. But there are certain, bustling times of day where we all happen to need to use the facilities almost simultaneously.
Everyone is very polite. There's always a certain amount of knocking, delicately declaring one's occupancy of the bathroom, then of course copious apologizing and scurrying away. (While I feel that this ritual applies to everyone, I am painfully cognizant of the fact that I personally am a scurrier- I get really embarrassed if I knock and someone happens to be in the restroom. I think I'm worried they'll perceive me as rude, boorish, and constantly shitting.)
What I have noticed, by virtue of being so very close to the bathrooms, is that everyone has their own unique way of saying "Don't come in here, I'm relieving myself." What's better is that I can now identify almost everyone on the floor by their territorial announcements. Please see below:
Me: (entirely too high-pitched) Just a minute!
Ayanna: Occupied. This is occupied.
Prat: Um, hold on, okay?
Leo: Oy!
Kate: Yeah?
Pam: I'm almost done!
Kung: NoNO!
Dr G: Peter's here!
Dr K: I'm busy.
Lou: Yes, can I help you?
Dee: Oh my!
Ming: (Big loud obviously fake cough)
Minnie: I'm sorry, I'm in here.
Dawn: Wait!
Neil: No thanks. <---- This one always confuses me. I think he thinks he's funny. But when I encounter it, I am always so surprised that I say "oh, um, okay! sorry!"
I kind of have a good time with this game. I especially enjoy it when people switch things up, or when there's someone new and they're trying out a test phrase or something.
What I enjoy way, WAY less is when I can tell who was in the restroom before me based entirely on the smell that still lingers behind them.
Less of a challenge, less enthralling. |
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| Pay attention to me |
If you look over to the right of your screen (whilst your retinas burn with the pinkness of my blog) you will see links to some of my favorite bloggers ever. Most of these people are far more talented than I, and they get lots and lots of hits every day. Good for them! I'm proud. But I want more attention too.
So, I'm going to do a post that consists entirely of "hot" internet words. I'm glad my mom doesn't own or know how to use a computer, because I think she would say "Are you making good choices?" after she read this. The answer to that, Ma, is of course I'm not. But let's just see where this gets me, shall we? The following is a list of popular search terms on the internet. I want my piece of the traffic pie.
Ahem.
vagina
free recipes
peach cobbler
pasta salad
low carb recipes
banana bread
organizing tips
fashion trends
fashion advice
potty training
autism
name meanings
top baby names
ovulation
ovulation predictor
fertility
breastfeeding
fertility calculator
skinny jeans
weddings
fall trends
sienna miller hair
vagina
pussy
lesbians
sports
Yankees suck
American Idol
poop
tub girl
death penalty
Paris Hilton
Lindsay Lohan
Paris Hilton+Lindsay Lohan+ Naked
meatloaf recipes
smoothies
puggle
Kate Moss
Hezbollah
Israel
uterus
Harry Potter
Dungeons and Dragons
celebrity hair do
Ken Paves
jessica simpson
ashlee simpson
Britney+Spears+Naked
Toni Senecal Curly Hates Her
Shiloh Nouvel Jolie-Pitt
Maddox
Reese Witherspoon
Keira Knightly
Anorexic
Nicole Richie Hair
cheap air fare
This should help things a bit.
If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them.
Many thanks to both Curly and Jess for their support in this taxing endeavor. |
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| Warmer...WARMER! Oh! Hot hot hot! |
Do you guys like that game? That game where someone hides something and then the other person has to find it based on that whimsical and arbitrary temperature gauge doled out by the first person. Isn't that a good game? I'm playing it right now. I'm so close to finding it! Except the person who hid the object apparently chose to hide it on the sun because it is so motherfuckinghot I'm melting away. We don't have air conditioning in my apartment because 1) we aren't sure how to install it and 2) we don't want to pay for it, so we kind of just sit around and sweat most of the time. Fortunately, we are an apartment full of ladies so we can lounge in our skivvies. I'm not trying to be coy or anything by saying that- it's just the truth. It's just really so warm that we have no other option.
That is, until, I get to work.
It is FREEZING in this office. Absolutely freezing. This particular blog entry is taking quite a bit of time to write because I am making a lot of typos. Lots. It's partially due to an inability to type, but it is mostly due to my fingers being too cold to move. For real. My fingernails are blue. I'm not going to lie- I think it's a little cool looking. You know, like heroin-chic. But fatter. Overall, though, I'd prefer a normal temperature.
In other news, I just got an e-mail at work from this woman who is a co-investigator on a study we are doing. It ended like this:
So I think that's all fine to bring up at the meeting next week. Hope this heatwave doesn't make you guys loose (sic) power again!
G____
"3 rusty nails + 1 wooden cross= 4given"
I'm going to write her back and include some helpful equations of my own:
1 shirt- 2 sleeves= 2b top
1 man-1 penis= Unik
2hornee 2b believed, 4give that, bitch!
3 friends x 23 dollars= 69 4everyone!
Care to add anything? |
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Name: A Lover and a Fighter
Home: New York, NY
About Me: "It is a very sad thing that nowadays there is so little useless information."
-Oscar Wilde
See my profile...
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