Dian and I are both down at the moment. I’m slowly recovering from a bout of a pretty nasty chest cold and she’s just, by a day or so, out of the worse of it.
She took care of me while I was going through the worse of it; I’m tending to her as she hacks and coughs her way back to relative health.
I occurs to me, while I’ve been nursing my love, that the human body is just about the single most disgusting thing on the planet. I mean, is it just me, or have any of you happened to note that it is, all things considered, a slime factory?
Feel really good? Having sex good?
Time for the body to produce slime.
Feel really shitty? I mean, sick as a dog shitty?
Time for slime!
Sweat slicks the skin, snot runs from the nose, the lungs hack up masses of phlegm, the ears run with some sort of waxy crap, the eyes weep … there is not a single orifice on the body that does not expel something pretty damn disgusting daily, when you think about it.
Okay, ten out of ten for the packaging. I’ll give the Almighty full marks for coming up with unique and delightful wrapping. Ditto for the entire complexity of the human machine … must have been a bitch working out the reflexes and stuff. Nothing for love and admiration from my heart for a fine job well done.
However, I gotta say, for such an elegant and sophisticated job, the slime factor is revoltingly high! It’s like popping the hood of your fine Italian sports car and discovering that its machinery is powered by slugs.
Sad, isn’t it?
Gotta go … time for meds.
Married readers and readers with children will appreciate this …
Dian and I are playing cold tag once more. It’s a simple game and the rules are almost non-existent. Here’s how it goes:
I get a cold.
I give it to Dian just as I’m getting over it.
She gives it back to me just as she gets over it.
Rinse and repeat until (a) one of us dies of pneumonia, (b) the cold dies, or (c) the cold germ finally mutates into something huge with tentacles that goes off to threaten Japan.
At present, I’m waning and Dian’s waxing. Stay tuned … this might go into overtime!
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Maybe if Superman was drawn by Cho, okay, but … Christina Hendricks?!?
I mean … well, isn’t there some sort of unwritten rule that the superhero should have a larger chest measurement than the spunky girl reporter? Who’s playing Superman? 1980′s Arnold Schwarzenegger?
Lex Luthor standing in-front of Lois in a scoop neckline shouldn’t resemble a pawn shop sign, either.
I’ve been in love with Hendricks ever since Firefly, but … seriously?
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I’ve got meself a bit of a coughy cold today … so Sailor Jim is “under the weather” today.
Funny phrase that, “under the weather.” A nautical one, if what I’ve read is to be believed.
The weather deck on a ship is any deck that has no protection from the elements, itself, but protects the spaces below it from the weather. If sailing men were ill, they were told to rest below decks or “under the weather deck,” as to get them out of the elements. Supposedly, the phrase was simply shortened for civilian use.
In my particular case, it’s rather apt. I’ve always been rather susceptible to barometric changes in the atmosphere. A severe enough low passing overhead will result in my head and joints aching. Various doctors have assured me that it’s a fairly normal condition that that a goodly percentage of people (as well as most farm animals, according to Dian) have the same problem to one degree or another.
Of course, my particular condition led to the following conversation between my darlin’ Dian and Lindia, the lady who lives next door.
Lindia: Is Jim okay? He really seems out of sorts today.
Dian: Oh, he just had a long night last night. We both did … Jim’s a bit like a horse, you see, and it makes for rough nights at time. He kept me up all night and we’re both exhausted today.
I finally heard about the conversation a week later when I asked Tom, Lindia’s husband, why all the wives in the neighborhood were looking at me funny.
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Well, people, I’m having the website redesigned professionally, so there might be some brief outages as construction crews demolish as needed. Stay tuned for further information as available.
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A ball winder is just plain FUN!
Dian had an appointment at the VA hospital this last week, so we dropped by our favorite yarn shop to stock up. I bought a nice yarn that came in a hank, so the pleasant girl behind the counter asked me if I wanted it wound into a ball.
After she all but magically transformed the hank to a center pull yarn hockey puck, I bought myself a ball winder.
I’ve now rewound half of my yarn stash and by God that’s fun! Moreover, it makes knitting so much simpler! Instead of having to deal with a skein (where the center is often just a wadded up bunch of yarn), I’ve got a flat wind of yarn with a nice center pull to work with.
If you have a couple of bucks to spend and want to either really neaten up your yarn stash or make your knitting just a bit easier, then I strongly recommend getting a winder.
One thing, though … static electricity. All yarns build up quite a bit of static electricity as you wind them up and the 100% man-made fibers will actually develop enough of a charge that the top will blow off the wound ball as you wind it. Seriously … I had to stop a few times to redo those balls. It’s like they develop a negative charge or something. Fascinating, but troublesome.
Still worth it, though.
Knitting, Review Tags:
It wasn’t a number two.
I liked the film, even if parts of it didn’t make the least bit of sense. I didn’t even mind the changes they made to the book (although, if you can, the book is actually a good read and is a little better than the movie).
What did I mind?
Stupid bad guys annoy me. Stupid bad guy aliens annoy me even more. Stupid bad guy aliens with mandatory silly alien tattoos and body mods who get off on scaring kids at random on the freeway, somehow can track other aliens to Ohio (the noble and good ones) simply by smelling a license plate that was burned a week ago in Key West, and are supposedly smart enough to take out entire worlds, but are at the same time stupid enough to fall for the high tech version of “pull the pin on the hand grenade the bad guy is wearing like a macho idiot across his chest” really, seriously annoy the living shit out of me!
I also hate mandatory cute crap. The dog pissed me off something fierce.
I also hate teen-age stereotypes, especially the “home town football hero quarterback is a jerk and bully” one. I mean, seriously, just how many movies have YOU seen with this one? How about, just once, making the jerk bully the president of the chess club? Or the school band?
Oh, and incredibly bad logic … I really hate bad logic. So, okay, you are the warrior protecting a special kid, one who will grow up to inherit special powers and be the protectors of … well, wherever they are, I suppose. Would you (a) wrap them in tissue and make them discover their powers on their own, forcing them to learn how to handle them on the fly (perhaps at the worse possible time) or (b) teach them how to fight like a wolverine on air plane glue from day one so that they can not only protect themselves as they grow up, but – when those cool special powers show up – they can fairly effortlessly incorporate them into their defense?
The warrior protector in this movie’s case is strictly a plan b boy … as he would be in so many others.
Aside from these fairly minor problems, I still liked the film, but not enough to buy a copy when it comes out on dvd. I recommend seeing this one during a weekend matinée, when the prices are a buck or two cheaper, or – if you can’t – wait until it’s available to rent. In short, I don’t think it’s a full price film, but it was a nice way to spend an early afternoon.
I’m doing two at a time, top down, socks using the double circular kneedle gag (well, there’s an superfluous k on knitter, so why not?), but I have a small question:
When one is knitting in the round, either using dp or circular kneedles, one is suppose – when one is casting on – to join the circle, so the first stitch is firm. Methods include swapping the last and first stitch, casting on an extra stitch and then doing a knit or purl two together for the first stitch (that would be the first and last together, of course), and so forth.
So what do you use for the second sock in a two-at-once situation?
I mean, you can swap stitches, knit or purl two together, or whatever on the first sock cast on, since the first and last stitches are right there at the right hand side of the kneedles. It’s a simple matter of a seconds work. But the second sock is to the left of the first, with it’s first and last stitch sitting on the kneedles right after the first sock … so how the hell do you swap stitches or work anything together?
I’m serious. You cast on the second sock like the first and pass half the stitches like the first, which leaves the first and last stitches in a position that makes it impossible to either pass a stitch over or work anything from the near kneedle onto the far one. So how the hell do you join the circle?
I’ve looked for videos and/or written instructions, but have crapped out so far, so I’d appreciate advice or solutions from you far more experienced knitters, you. (And have I said yet today how lovely you look in that outfit? You’ve changed something, haven’t you? You’ve changed your hair? The way you do your makeup? You had a little work done? Got laid? Well, whatever it was, you look marvelous, and I mean that!)
Okay, a great many of you reading this have suffered from them. We make jokes about when it happens, if only to show the world that we have a good sense of humor. We get teased by loved ones and friends when it happens, especially the younger loved ones and friends, which we accept in a good natured, not at all offended or insulted way.
But deep down inside …
I’m speaking, of course, about masturbation … sorry, mind drifted. I’m talking, of course, about senior moments.
Can’t remember why you went to the store, walked into the room, or called somebody.
Forget your wallet when you go shopping, your hat when it’s blustery, your social security number whenever somebody official asks, and your address whenever you have to write it down on something.
Senior moments … I set a personal best today and had two good ones. So far. It’s only thirteen hundred.
This morning, after I dropped Dian off at work and came home, I casually locked myself out of my car. Which means, of course, I was also locked out of our house. I stood on the porch and patted pockets for nearly a full minute before it dawned on me what I must have done.
Y’see, leaving the keys in the ignition of our little sedan doesn’t set off any alarms. Either the key fits too loose to register or the “key in ignition and door open” alarm is busted or something, but opening the doors with the key in the ignition doesn’t do anything. (UPDATE: It’s the loose key. On a whim, I checked it when I went out last and the alarm only goes off if you push the key in firmly.) As a result, it’s easy to forget … that’s my story and I’m sticking to it!
Anyway, I called Dian from the neighbors and she drove her work car out to let me into the house, where I have a spare car key. She good-naturally kidded me about my senior moment and I good-naturally chuckled with her … then kicked the ottoman across the room after she’d gone back to work.
She was good enough to only kid me a little during lunch, using her finely tuned wifey senses to recognize the subtle signs that I was a little touchy about it. Biting through the side of my glass when she brought it up, for instance.
We had a lovely lunch and I drove her back to work, came home … and locked myself out of the fucking car, again!!
This time I checked the back door and all the windows to see if I could jimmy them before finally heaving a massive sigh and calling.
She just left, doing her level best to not laugh. (Wives, for reasons that I have never been able to understand, seem to find their husbands most heartfelt and deep anguish to be hil-arious, simply a laugh riot. Many managed to keep a straight face until they’re with their friends, but damn near every one I’ve met has a knee-slapping story to share with other wives about how their husband electrocuted himself or ran over his own foot, or something.)
Twice in one day … a record for me. It will stand as a record, too, since I’m leaving for the hardware store to have spare keys to my old beat up pick-up doors made. I’m going to hide them in various spots around our place, then keep a key to the sedan doors in the glove compartment of the pick-up. My buddy at the hardware store will be happy to make the spare keys so that they look like anything but a spare key to a vehicle, so I won’t have to worry about someone picking one up by mistake and stealing my old truck.
But even if it meant losing my old truck, I think I’d still have them made and scattered … I will not be trapped outside my own home again!
Day-to-Day Stuff, Rant Tags:
Okay, so the tea party backed a Republican (of course) state representative in Texas by the name of Debbie Riddle, who promptly lived up to their expectations (and, ultimately, her last name), by introducing a bill that makes hiring an illegal alien a crime punishable by up to two years in the slammer and a ten grand fine.
Unless – and yer gonna love this little loophole – the illegal in question is hired to do household chores, that is.
Yeah, hiring an illegal gardener or maid or cook is fine and the hirer won’t be fined. Why?
Well, according to another Texas Republican representative, one Aaron Pena, if the law didn’t contain this particular loophole, “a large segment of the Texas population” would end up falling afoul of it.
Quote – When it comes to household employees or yard workers it is extremely common for Texans to hire people who are likely undocumented workers. It is so common it is overlooked. – Unquote.
Hmmm … y’know, I lived in Texas for quite a few decades and … no … I can’t remember … nope, not one of anyone – and I mean absolutely anyone – I ever met had a maid, cook, or gardener, legal or il-. None of the university personnel, none of the IRS agents or clerks, none of the state workers, nobody working at Wal-Mart or for call centers, nobody in any of my neighborhoods; none had any illegals working for them.
So who is this “large segment” Pena is so blithely speaking of?
Well, let’s see … he’s a Republican and a state representative … hmmm, I wonder what income bracket he might be referring to, then?
Personally, I think the best part is Riddle’s official reason for the loophole. Ya see, if she punished the wealthy for hiring illegals as maids and gardeners, it would be “stifling the economic engine” in Texas.
So Riddle me this, shipmates: How does making the wealthy play by the same rules as the business owners stifle the economic engine of Texas? Are the people being hired as maids and cooks by the wealthy contribute to the betterment of the state economy more than those who are working as waitresses and cooks at restaurants? Is the man hired to tend to the estate of the wealthy home owner doing anything different from the man who works for the landscaping business?
Or is this just yet another Republican who rode into office on the backs of gullible tea party members playing at living up to her campaign promises to same, while protecting those who are really important to her?
Okay, so Republican Congressmen blackmailed the government into extending tax breaks for the wealthy (none impeached or even recalled, astonishingly), a Republican Governor is trying to destroy a union for state workers under the guise of trying to balance the state budget, and now Republican representatives are trying to get a “hard nosed and no nonsense” bill passed that permits the wealthy to keep their illegal workers with no punishment, while making any business who hires them lawbreakers. And tea party favorites are involved in every act, too.
I sure hope anyone who was in favor of the tea baggers is paying attention to this … you people fell for their bullshit and this is the result. They played along and are now doing their damnest to fulfill their promises to their real masters, the privileged upper one percent of the country.
Learn, God Damn It!
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