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laughing_sphinx
19 April 2006 @ 07:19 pm
Sitting behind this guy at a stop light, listening to his car stereo blasting punk rock and reading his bumper stickers: Son of Sam, AFI Sing the Sorrow, Roses Are Red, one that says, "The next time you think you're perfect, just try walking on water," and another that says, "More orgasms, less kids," with little sperm drawings to illustrate.

I am appalled. All by myself in my car, I exclaim, "Fewer! FEWER kids!"

If bumper sticker publishers can't even use proper grammar, I honestly don't know what kind of world we're living in anymore.

 
 
Feeling: impressedsuperior
 
 
laughing_sphinx
15 April 2006 @ 09:11 am
awake at this ungodly hour and delirious with fever and a raging strep infection (thanks for the memories, o library, you shit) and my biggest frustration is not finding a website that will allow me to play zuma on my mobile

but this is quickly topped by a new obsession : WILL SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT THE MATCHBOX20 SONG "YOU WON'T BE MINE" MEANS?!?! AND WHY ARE THERE RANDOM SOUND EFFECTS? AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO HEARS THEM?

I've just about googled the issue to death but all the reviews out there seem to say are "it's about breaking up" or "I like the piano" or "it's got, like, an orchestra or some junk" or "the words are so deep I totally relate" or "rob's voice makes me feel all ooky"

FOCUS PEOPLE!!! stop stating the obvious and explain to me why I hear running water, tree frogs, buzzing flies, voices, and a crackling fire!! aaaaa!

oh well. by all accounts, it's rob's fav song, so i'll just call him ad find out. I know i've got his number here somewhere, the president gave it to me. not Dub, the west wing guy. maybe i'll wait to come down off the coug medicine first. I'm amazed I'm able to type.
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Current Location: beside myself
Feeling: drunkflooberty
Listening to: You Won't Be Mine - matchbox 20 (duh)
 
 
laughing_sphinx
02 February 2006 @ 07:09 pm
On my way upstairs for the night (or, "up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire," as the Brits would have it) and I spot a small piece of landscape bark on the landing. I nudge it with my foot and realize my first impression was erroneous: it's too rounded to be bark, it's too dense, and I live with kobolds.

I'm too lazy to go fetch a kleenex for the job, so after a moment's hesitation during which I'm pretty sure I'm gonna fully leave the turd lie, I finally pick the thing up with my bare hands, run it to a toidy and flush it. Washwashwashwash hands.

For some of you, maybe this is nothing. For others, maybe it's unthinkably gross. For me, I've had worse. And I've learned the direct approach is the safest. One time I was scooping Maimer's litterbox and there was a little lone poo on the floor next to the box. After chasing it around a bit with the scoop, I finally pinned it against the box side and tried to wiggle the scoop under it. It was a stalemate for about eight seconds (a liftime in turd terms), which was broken when the scoop slipped, the poo broke free and BECAME AIRBORNE, arcing right past my face. My life flushed--I mean flashed--before my eyes. When I'd recovered from the shock, I scurried after the errant feces, snatched it up and tossed it in with its brothers. Bare hands.

See, bare hands are nothin'. It helps to have some perspective. If I'd been yawning, I coulda had that thing in my mouth.

 
 
Feeling: nauseatednauseated
Listening to: Clocks - Coldplay
 
 
laughing_sphinx
29 January 2006 @ 03:12 pm
Back at the doc-in-the-box for my follow-up workman's comp visit. This time, the waiting area is packed, with a new Phlegmy Bohemian Youth, this one accompanied by Distant Parent, or Sudoku-Obsessed Man. Also making an appearance are Soulless Marketing Career Man with More Money to be Made Elsewhere, Depressed Young Mother with Infant, Woman Whose Incessant Coughing Sounds Like Sobs, and Chinless Obese Woman Snoring with Open-Mouthed Abandon on the couch.

Play-by-play: The TV is blaring a cartoon that not only no one appears to be watching, but whose demographic is completely unrepresented in the room. Retrieving my dropped water bottle gives me the undesirable opportunity to inspect the carpet stains. Depressed Young Mother with Infant and Phlegmy Bohemian Youth are each admitted and quickly replaced with a new Depressed Mother with Infant and yet another PBY with guardian.

Oh yeah. Waiting time this visit? Two hours. Two hours of mobile solitaire and inhaling airborne pathogens ferocious enough to make it all the way here from Indonesia. I'll keep you updated on how my avian flu progresses.

 
 
Feeling: dirtydirty
Listening to: Goodbye My Lover - James Blunt on SNL: guy's got crazy eyes!
 
 
laughing_sphinx
This is the Workman's Comp in 12 Easy Steps... Library Edition!

Step 1: If you don't have one already, get a job in a library.

Step 2: At your (new) library job, injure yourself in a stupid way, say, by falling out of your shoe.

Step 3: Fill out a workman's comp form.

Step 4: Find where they keep the workman's comp forms, then complete Step Three.

Step 5: See a physician.

Step 6: Discover your regular doctor is unavailable because you put off the dreaded appointment until the weekend, when the only legitimate health professionals open are the emergency room and the walk-in "doc-in-the-box."

Step 7: Complete Step Five by going to the damn doc-in-the-box.

Step 8: But first, shave your legs for once, you slob.

Step 9: Try not to catch SARS or the bird flu while waiting your turn behind the Phlegmy Bohemian Youth and the Harried Mother With A Billion Snot-Nosed Kids.

Step 10: Get chewed out by a "doctor" with unprofessionally casual wear, heavy accent and open contempt for American youth. See the errors of your ways in having stuck it out at work and postponed medical attention as well as having ever picked out, bought or worn shoes that are so easy to fall out of. Leave feeling less of a person in general.

Step 11: (Almost there!) Get saddled--I mean fitted with an ankle brace to be worn constantly for the next week. "Forget" to ask whether or not it must be worn even to bed. (What you don't know you're not responsible for.)

Step 12: Hobble around work for the next week, fishing for sympathy, which you garner in truckloads. (It's the comp time that doesn't appear forthcoming.) Try not to think about going back to the grumpy foreign doc-in-the-box at the end of the week.

You did it! Now don't do it again.

 
 
Feeling: optimisticoptimistic
Listening to: Everything Burns - Ben Moody, featuring Anastacia
 
 
 
laughing_sphinx
22 January 2006 @ 12:07 pm
At the doc-in-the-box for my workman's comp injury and I look over and see this sign:

If you are planning travel out of the country for the Lunar New Year, Please read the following:

That's it. The rest of the sign was blank.

What is this Lunar New Year that requires people to travel out of the country after not reading anything? I've never felt so out of a loop that appeared to have nothing in it in the first place.

That's when I was distracted by this sign:

If you have been to any of the countries, listed below, and have a fever with a cough, sore throat, or trouble breathing, PLEASE ask for a mask and let the receptionist know. THANK YOU.

(Cue juicy sneeze from guy next to me.)

Below it was a list of over a dozen countries I never thought of visiting before but now have them mentally filed under "dirty."

 
 
Feeling: amusedamused
Listening to: Maybe I'm Amazed - Jem
 
 
laughing_sphinx
16 January 2006 @ 05:45 pm
It's the only explanation I can come up with. There are gnomes outside my window. And on my roof. I can hear them scrabbling around out there right now. It has to be gnomes. What else could get a Kobold as pissed off as Maimer is right now? Well, not right now. At the moment she's too sound asleep to hear them. But usually when the things come scurrying around, she slams herself against the glass, practically foaming at the mouth with rage, gibbering like an insane Kobold. And the sadistic gnomes just keep taunting her.

And if anyone has ever wondered what sound a gnome makes, well eat your heart out, because I know. For your information, they go "caw caw." And they fly. Glittergold's honor.

Stay tuned for when I finally catch a glimpse of one. I'll let you all in on what gnomes really look like. Maybe even snap its picture with my camera-phone.
 
 
Feeling: contentcontent
 
 
laughing_sphinx
16 January 2006 @ 12:00 pm
Yes, joy. For I now have my own cell phone. It's a smart phone. It's smarter than me. It's allowing me to post to LJ from my bed, something I've been trying unsuccessfully to figure out how to do on my own for quite some time now. In fact, Smartie here can do so much more than I ever could, I'm pretty sure I never have to leave my bed again. I've got phone, tunes, reading material, email, surfing, games... all the good things in life it's been my unique objective to gather around me within arm's reach. And now I've got it all, in one little 4.25' by 2.3' by 0.9', 6.1-ounce silver box. Yes sir, I never have to move again, except to wield a stylus.

*gurgle* Hmmm... I wonder what's the chance of getting some Doritos outta this dumb thing?
 
 
Feeling: ecstaticecstatic
 
 
laughing_sphinx
11 January 2006 @ 09:58 pm
IM conversation between Erin (me) at the Outer Rim and Dylan (musegryph) at the main branch:

Erin: the screensaver here says "You are an important part of the team"

Dylan: A not-so-subliminal message, huh?

Erin: yeah... unless i'm staring off into space like i was a few minutes ago. i think some morale slipped in by accident.

Dylan: Quick! Beat it down, Erin! You can't let it get to you.

Erin: arrrgh! fighting... back... the warm... fuzzies!

Dylan: Never let morale get the best of you!
 
 
Feeling: relaxedrelaxed
Listening to: Quelqu'un m'a dit - Carla Bruni
 
 
laughing_sphinx
10 January 2006 @ 08:56 pm
I'm doing my monthly Tuesday stint at the Youth Services desk at the Outer Rim (our library branch in the boonies) when a pre-teen walks up to the desk and stands there, just looking at me.

"Hi," he says finally.

"Hi," say I.

"Who are you?" he asks.

"I'm Erin," I answer.

I'm just getting ready to launch into my "you've never seen me before because I only come out here once a month for four and a half hours, but no I'm not an idiot four-and-a-half-hour-a-week charity employee, I work full time at the main branch" speech, but at the mere mention of my name, the boy's face lights up, he does a little excited jig like the one I did the time I spotted Bob Saget at LAX (not particularly a fan, he's just the only star I've ever seen) and then he runs off to tell his friends.

Next month I'm going prepared with autographed photos.

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Feeling: chipperchipper
Listening to: Scrubs on t.v.