List #1 - L Foods

L is for List

I like making lists and there's really no more appropriate week for listing than L-weeks so here's list number one: L foods.

I listed them and loosely clumped them into groups. I'm sure it's lacking.

L-Foods

lamb

liver

liverwurst

lobster

loins

limburger

lemons

limes

lingonberries

logan berries

lychee

leeks

legumes

lettuce

lima beans

lavender

lemongrass

lentils

linguine

lasagna

lard

laffy taffy

licorice

lollipops

L weeks (weeks 21-22)

L is for Late.

 

I'd like to say I'm posting the start of L-weeks a day Late because Late starts with L but really I'm just Lazy. (Also starts with L)!

 

L is a confusing letter because in some fonts (sans serif) a lower case l (l) looks like a capital I (I).  This happens with hand-writing too.  People don't really think about it because when they are reading or writing they use the context of the word and sentence to figure out whether it is an L or an I.  You know it's ugly with an L not an I, mostly because capital Is don't appear in the middle of words.  And this process happens so quickly, because your brain is accustomed to doing it, that it is not a conscious process, until you come to a word or phrasing you don't recognize.  But for the most part, when you're reading an e-mail you know that your friend went to the concert last night (I didn't) and not the letter L, unless you're friends with the letter L, then it could be both.  Either way, l is/are a poorly designed letter(s) whether it is representing a vowel or a consonant.  I'm not sure who to blame because I don't know which came first the lowercase l or the capital I.  Forget chicken-egg, this is what we need to be researching.  I'm tempted to blame the L because it comes later in the alphabet and I is more important, being a vowel and all.  So lowercase ls really need to step it up and figure out a new Look.  Although, the designers of the capital I had to know that people would devolve into lazier creatures and ditch the hat and shoes on the I, so maybe I needs to change.  Maybe, just maybe, we should consider getting rid of the lowercase l altogether.  How difficult is it to write a capital L anyway?  Better yet, let's return to cursive.  We never had this problem in cursive.  Oh wait, we kind of did.  Damnit, L really wants to look like an I.  But why?  It gets used a lot.  Hell, it's found in the six letters they award you in the final round of Wheel of Fortune, that means it has to be pretty popular, right?  Top six maybe.  I almost never gets used, sometimes Y gets picked first before I.  I bet I is pissed that L keeps trying to steal its style.  I should change its lowercase version so that it looks like a capital L and fuck everything up.  L better hope I doesn't get 1 in on this shit or we're all doomed.  So get over it, L, stop trying to live in Is very straight and unembellished shadow.   

 

So here they are for clarification's sake:

Capital L: L

Lowercase L: l

Capital I: I

Lowercase I: i  soon to be L in 2011.  Look for Lt.  I wLll.

 

L isn't a word (unless you're speaking Spanish) but it is a magazine: Elle.

It's an above-ground (L-evated) railway system in Chicago as well: L/El/EL. 

And it's also a Roman numeral for 50: L.

which is just another reason it should leave I alone, it's already worth 49 more Romans.  Maybe L just wants to be #I. 

 

 

Klever Kleaver

K is for Knives.

I went to culinary school so I'm supposed to be inexplicable into knives, but I'm not really. I like them a lot, some more than others. I like using them, some more than others. I like that they exist because I couldn't cut much without them in the kitchen but I don't go crazy over them. It may have something to do with the fact that these days, since I finished school, I spend more time writing about knives than I do actually using them, or even sharpening them. Embarrassingly, I don't even take very good care of the ones I have, and some of them aren't that bad. Granted, some of them are awful. Thanks dad for the 5.99 set of six knives from Big!Lots. I bet it was a real bargain. Happy birthday to me. But if I had these Mia Schmallernbach knives I would baby them like the only child of rich European royalty who is positioned to become the next king.

They're called 'Meeting' and I'm wondering how I can schedule one. The set of four takes up as much space as one thanks to the ingenious design. Thin, sleek, solid, each knife looks like it came from the same piece of metal and they are all housed in the same streamlined 'block'. They're almost completely flat and probably ultra light but they still have the recognizable shape of paring, caring, chef's and fillet knives. The designers even used math to craft them (proportions determined by the Fibonacci sequence). They're probably more arty than practical, but I don't care. I want these nesting knives more than I've wanted any other knives before probably because I always tend to want the most expensive thing in a class of already pricey items, like cutlery or shoes or furniture. My kitchen will be equipped with these one day and hopefully by then they'll have design some matching nesting flatware.

Via Geekologie and a bunch of other nerdy/geeky/designy sites.

K-weeks (Weeks 19-20)

K is for KICK-IT!

 

It's the kick-off for K-weeks, a day late won't kill anyone.  Afterall, yesterday was a holiday that celebrated people who got killed, so Monday did its part.  If it doesn't kill you it's supposed to make you stronger, but neither is proving to be the case with this blogging endeavor.  Is there a third option I should know about?  Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger...or gives you cancer, oops, sorry, liver.  That's okay though because I never go to the doctor so I'll never know, and if I never know I'll never die.  Read it again, it's logic. 

 

Since knowing is half the battle, give or take 50% depending on the nature of the battle: Jeopardy - 100%, Surprises - 0%, here are some things you should know about the letter K.

 

1. We don't need it, we've got C.  Or the other way around, depending which you favor.  But since C comes first alphabetically, we can say, thanks to K and kick it to the curb...not the kurb or kerb, because we're keeping C.....ceeping.  Crap.  Okay, K,  you can stay.

2. The capital and lowercase versions are eerily similar.  

Capital: K

Lowercase: k.  

The smaller version just looks like its arms are retreating from a rejected hug initiation.  Hugs?! [K].  No?  Okay...[k].   

3.  It's not a word, unless you consider 'kay a word, which it's not really, it's move of an abbreviation of a word that isn't even a word either (OK?) but it got turned into a word because people started using it so often in speech and text, but initially and essentially it's just two letters, but K is a name (Kay), though it may also be short for something and thus not a real name.  OK, K!  Not a word.  Not a name. 

4. It can represent a degree on a thermodynamic temperature scale (Kelvin) or a strikeout in baseball, even though there are plenty of other letters in the word 'strikeout' to use like, I don't know, the first one?!  Supposedly, S was taken so some genius journalist decided 'k' was a suitable pinch-letter since 'struck' ends with a 'k' and that's a term so often used in baseball...'hey man, you totally just got struck'd out there.  Better luck next time ::ass slap::'  I think struck is only used when a player gets hit by a ball but I wouldn't know, I'm not a baseball player or even a baseball fan.  So K is kind of all over the place.  It's a lost letter, just trying to find it's way.  It had a tough time in the '20s when it got together with a couple other Ks who shared some bad blood and some bad ideas, mostly fashion-wise.  It's tough to bounce back from orchestrating lynchings, it just kinda hangs on to your reputation, especially when you do it again 30 years later.  Come on, K, get a...klu.    

 

OK, K, Kick-it, just try not to Kill anyone.

It Isn't What It Isn't.

I is for Is It?

It is what it is.  I don't know when this phrase entered popular conversation but it seems to be pretty pervasive these days.  In 2004 it was voted the most popular cliche by USA Today and its popularity has only increased since then.  I'm sure you've heard it, maybe you've even said it.  People use it to end conversations because it sounds conclusive.  I think.  That's what I've inferred from overhearing it used.  The Urban Dictionary seems to think it's a polite substitution for 'fuck it' in the business world, and although I don't know what the contributors to the Urban Dictionary know about the business world, but I tend to agree with them.  It's a subtle way of detaching yourself from a situation and declaring that you aren't going to deal with it.  An announcer for WEEI SportsRadio has a blog aptly named It Is What It Is.  What is it?  It's sports blog.  Evidently it's popular in sports as well which makes sense.  It seems like coaches and players alike would appreciate an opportunity to separate themselves from the blame for a loss.  No one wants to bear the wrath of the fans or owners.  'It is what it is' even made its way into alternative music proving it's not that alternative after all.  Lifehouse has a song about it called, you guessed it, It is what it is, in which they get it all wrong.  They actually claim it is what it isn't saying, 'It's complicated/so complicated.'  It's not that complicated at all, Lifehouse.  That's actually the thing that 'It' least is.  Here's an example of how it goes in every conversation, outside the office, off the field, and off the radio:

Lady: So my daughter's shacking up with that Emerson boy.  They're livin' together now.  Sleeping together too, I suppose.  Before long she'll probably have his baby in her. 
Other lady:  Well that's just too bad.  That boy used to be a good kid, came from good stock.  Whatever happened to him?  Musta been the influence of that good for nothing brother of his. 
Lady: I sure don't know, but...  It is what it is. 

"It is what it is."  Okay, but that isn't saying much, or really anything at all if you think about it.  It is what it is but what the fuck is it?  Sure, it is what it is, obviously; that's one helluva apparent tautology to be passing off as insight.  Every thing is what it is, things are not what they are not.  They can't be; it's impossible.  It is what it is.  No shit.  It also isn't what it isn't, but what's the point of saying so?  There isn't a point.  You're not saying anything at all.  And you know what they say, 'If you can't say anything, don't say anything at all.'  You're not adding to the conversation by finishing with a throw-away phrase like 'It is what it is.'  If you can't think of a way to end your conversation then maybe you should have never started it in the first place.  It is what it is.  It sounds final, for good reason because it's basically a surrender to the fates or the elements, or at least that's how people intend it.  I think.  It's implied that It is what it is and it can't be changed.  There's no going back now.  Like This Is It, it's the end, he's dead, nothing can be added to it.  Here are some substitutions for the increasingly popular 'It is what it is':

What are you going to do?
Outta my hands.
That's how the cookie crumbles.
Not my problem.

But these don't sound as catchy or as metaphysically enlightened as 'It is what it is' does.  The problem with 'It is what it is' - aside from it being a waste of breath and words - is that people don't even use it correctly.  As in the above completely fabricated interaction between a lady and another lady, people use 'it is what it is' when they most certainly can do something about the situation and in most cases should, but they don't have to because it is what it is and that's all it is.  I'm not advocating that everyone going around interfering in the lives of others but take a little responsibility.  I don't mean interceding or even throwing in your input.  No one wants to hear that.  This is not a call to action.  I'm an American, and I'm proud to be an American because we are an inactive bunch and I'm lazy too.  I get it.  I'm not inspired to save the world either, but I'll be the first say so.  All I ask is that you admit what you're implying with 'It is what it is'.  Say you don't want to do anything about it.  Say 'fuck it.'  Say it's a waste of time and not worth the effort because that's what it really is, and that isn't all that bad.   

            

It's coming from Inside the office

I is for Ignore. 
 
Today I learned something new about myself - I have an amazing capacity for ignoring.  I always knew I could ignore people.  I do that on a regular basis - via phone calls, solicitors standing outside of markets, and my neighbors (Why should I bring my trashcans in when I am just going to have to take them back out again next week?).  But I didn't know I could also ignore sounds, mainly because I thought I had tested this and proven that I can't.  Crying babies in any public place immediately demand my attention and a corresponding scowl.  I am unable to work on Wednesday mornings because the sound of the gardener's lawn mower, even in the distance and slightly muffled by the walls and windows of my office causes me to want to kill someone, which results in work that too closely resembles a death threat or suicide note, neither of which sells pots and pans very well, knives, a bit better but still not great.  But this morning I discovered  that there are some sounds I can ignore. 

When I arrived at work this morning I heard a faint combination beeping/static buzzing sound coming from somewhere in the back office when my desk is located.  With two bathrooms and two offices as possible sources of the sound, I quickly eliminated the bathrooms as options deciding that no object in either could make such a sound, as we do not make it a point at my place of employment to store electronics in the bathrooms.  I concluded that it must be coming from one of the offices.  You see, even though my 'office' is located in this section of the building, I technically don't have an office.  I have a desk, situated near two windows and next to a large metal shelf.  If only I had a door, then I could say I had a corner office, but the only door I have is a glass one which would lead outside if it wasn't permanently locked which frustrates misguided delivery men who wrongly-assume it is the front door and knock and glare incessantly until I try to explain to them through frantic and poorly-crafted sign-language that there is another door - the actual front door.  You'd think the 'Please Use Other Door Sign' would be enough, but it's not.  Since the sound wasn't coming from my 'desk area', I let it be.  I did not investigate any further.  The sound wasn't that irritating after all.  So instead I got to work, or my version of work that takes place during the morning hours. 

About 2 1/2 hours into my work day the usual occupant of one of the two back offices arrives, the real offices.  Denise works with money so she gets an office with a door.  I think it may even have a lock on it.  Her desk is the same size as mine, but her drawers have locks.  You can tell how important you are in a company by how many keys you have.  I have none.  Denise must have at least three.  She opens the door to her possibly locked office and the buzz-beeping sound increases in volume just slightly.  She's found the source.  The conversation below is almost identical to the one we then engaged in.

Denise: Do you hear that?
Me: Yes.  Is it coming from your office?
Denise: Yes.
Me: What is it?
Denise: I don't know. 
Me: Oh.
Denise: I think it's coming from the UPS.  I'm not going to touch it.  I'm getting Rick.
Me: Okay.
 
I'm not entirely certain the combination of letters she stated but they sounded like UPS but that could just be because my mind is used to grouping those letters together.  I didn't know what a UPS was; I know what the UPS is.  Judging from the sound I suspected it might be some sort of direct line fax our company has with UPS to receive notices on deliveries or even a transporter for more immediate arrival of rushed items.  We're an Internet company.  We engage in a lot of shipping.  It's not implausible that we would have such a contraption.  I don't know what's stored in Denise's office.  There's no telling what she has access to in there.  It's all locked up.  I'll never know.  I only recently discovered that she is not as tidy as I once believed.  Interruption: During the first six months or so that I was working here I heard a suspicious sound coming from Denise's office on a regular basis, about once an hour.  It sounded almost exactly like a vacuum cleaner and since, as may already be obvious, I don't have a very inquisitive or curious mind I was content to believe that every hour Denise vacuumed a portion of her office for approximately 3-5 seconds.  Eventually I discovered, through pure happenstance, that the sound was coming from a paper shredder when I walked by one time.  I heard the sound, I turned toward her office as I passed and saw her feeding papers to a shredder.  In hindsight, this seems like a much more practical appliance for an accountant to have in her office, though I did lose respect for her cleanliness. 
 
Denise returned to our back portion of the building with Rick, the boss, moments later.  He quickly came around the corner and approached my desk since my invisible door is always open and we engaged in my second office conversation of the day.  This was big for me, usually I don't talk to anyone during the course of an 8 hour work day. 
 
Rick: Have you been hearing this sound all morning?
Me: I thought it was coming from outside. 
Rick: It's not. 
Me: Oh.
 
Notice I didn't bother to answer the question.  I skipped to the end.  I saved us a couple dozen wasted words.  If I had said yes, he would have asked why I didn't do anything about it and I would have to find a way to politely, or at least sanely, explain that I didn't want to deal with it even though it would have offered me a chance to avoid my actual work for up to 10 or 15 minutes if I had orchestrated it correctly.  I didn't want to deal with it because I didn't want to talk to anyone, something that I ended up having to do anyway so it could be argued that I failed but I never had to leave my desk, so I'll call it a draw.  Despite the lure of avoiding work, I knew if I investigated the sound it would have inevitably resulted in me having conversations with other members of the office.  People who I pride myself on never interacting with.  People whose names I cannot remember because I don't make the effort to store them in my brain.  And I would have had to talk to all of them, because I don't know what any of them do so I would have had to inquire in order to discover whose job title the problem of 'mysterious incessant tones' fell under.  I'd guess IT but I just do not know.  These interactions, particularly if they were to take place when I originally heard the sound - in the morning, barely after 8am, well before I had finished my 22 ounces of coffee, would have been absolutely unbearable for me.  And since the noise didn't sound that much like a fire alarm anyway, I wasn't worried. 

What I can't properly convey through four brief lines of dialogue is the look I received from my boss after I evaded his direct question and when straight for my line of defense.  The look was a combination of many statements.  Statements I'm sure he often thinks when conversing with me but never utters.  The most frequent runners being: "How much of an idiot are you, really?"  "Why do I let you still work here?" and "Bullshit."  Not only can I ignore high-pitched sounds of unknown origins, I can also ignore critical looks which are intended to make me aware of my own idiocy, so I smiled and turned back to my computer. 

Rick and Denise quickly discovered the problem and sought to silence the sound.  It was coming from the UPS box which is nothing like I imagine it would be.  It's a large block shaped power-strip of sorts that keeps the computers from shorting or exploding.  Rick explained all this to me, even identifying my own UPS box which is just feet away from my own feet as if, perhaps, enlightening me on the subject would encourage me to investigate matters further next time, if such a buzzing were to sound again.  It didn't.
 
Inquiring minds may want to know, but I am not the owner of an inquiring mind.  I prefer not to know.  I prefer to remain ignorant and thus not responsible, and so I ignore whatever it is I can ignore.  If it's ignorable, I'll try to ignore it.  Having a mother with tinnitus, I saw this act of intentional ignorance as preparation for my future.  If I were to ever become inflicted with tinnitus as my mother has been, I will know, with great confidence, that I can ignore a faint buzz-eeping sound for up to 2 1/2 hours.  I consider that an accomplishment inquiry could never award me. 

I weeks (Weeks 17-18)

I is for Information.

Introducing I Weeks with special guest appearances from Ice Cream, INXS, Italian food, and, of course, the Internet.

I is the 9th letter of the alphabet and third vowel. After this we won't see another vowel (O) for ten weeks so we better show this one a good time, or at least an Interesting time. I don't dare shoot for the Ideal time.
I is the most basic of all the letters in the alphabet, scriptally speaking, not scripturally speaking as in pertaining to the Bible but as in pertaining to script or writing. An I can be as basic as a straight vertical line or as elaborate as a straight vertical line with a hand and shoes when written or typed in a serif'ed style or font. Even with those embellishments the I remains very basic. In it's lowercase form, the I is quite simple as well, merely a shorter vertical line with a dot hovering above.
Here's a visual aid to help you remember what Is look like

Capital: I
Lowercase: i

Much like another vowel we all know and use, I is a word, in addition to being a letter, and I, for one, use it a lot. I think everyone does. As in every instance of the use of I as a word, it is capitalized, unless you are a lazy textor (one who text messages) or e-mailer, a person who has absolutely no respect for him/herself, others or the English language, or are typing in almost any 'Comments' section on the Internet.

High Comedy

H is for Ha ha ha?
- or-
what I should have done and said at a comedy show.
 
If it's called heckling when a comedian receives criticism from the audience then it should be called 'hell'ing when an audience member receives criticism from a comedian, because it is far worse.  It's hell.  It's great when it is happening to other members of the audience who are not you, but it's horrible when you're the audience participant.  Comedians expect to be heckled a bit when they're on stage, particularly if they are unprepared or just not funny.  It's part of the 'biz', right?  Audience members don't expect to be 'hell'ed when they're sitting in the crowd unless they call it upon themselves through excessive 'woo'-ing, loud shouts of "DO IT!" or express apathy after a comedians admission of recent brain surgery (all of which happened at this show).  Of course, the likelihood of being called out by a comedian for doing these things is increased in direct proportion to proximity to the stage, that's why you often hear these shouts from the darkness in the back of the room; they think they're safe. 

I should have sought shelter in the darkness at this particular show, I even planned on doing such.  But I didn't, and I don't; I never do, because the over-achieving student always takes over when looking for a place to sit.  Mostly because comedy shows, at least in Irvine, fill up like college classes, middle-section first (you want to be there, but you don't want to be called on), back-row second (you might not even want to be there but you definitely want to be able to text), first-row last (you want to know you were there).  So this night, just like in college, I wanted to earn my participation grade, but not by participating, by simply sitting close enough to be seen.  Even though we arrived late in attempt to not even have the option of sitting in the front, when my inner-student saw there were two empty chairs front and center, all plans for avoiding involvement disappeared.  While being escorted to our seats at the Irvine Improv, my brother and I engaged in the typical conversation with the male host. 
 
Host: Have you been here before?
Us: Yes.
Host: Well, welcome back.
Us: Thanks.  Do you know who Doug's guests are? 
Host: No, but they are special.  I have two seats down here in front.  Want to sit in front?
Us: (both knowing we had discussed not wanting to sit in front previously) Sure?
WRONG ANSWER.
What I should have said: NOOO. This is a highly participatory podcast and I have a fear of involvement due to a concern for the inevitable high-pressure situation brain malfunction that results from being called out in an uncomfortable situation you were not prepared for.  Or, you know, just, No, thanks.
 
So I suspected, even feared, involvement but I thought maybe I'd be safe, there were other people in the front row that half-encircles the stage.  I wasn't the only one (though I later realized I was the only female).  I'd sat in the front before and never been drawn into the act or even made eye-contact with.  But didn't fully realize until last night was that you can also turn yourself into a target for not doing anything at all at a comedy show, things like, say, not laughing.  If you're not laughing and you're in close proximity to the stage you might as well invite the comedian to involve you in their act. 
 
Dear Mr./Mrs. Funnyman/woman, 
Please utilize whatever you can from your initial impression of me in your act. 
Sincerely,
Mr./Mrs. Non-laugher in the Front Row. 
 
The Improv even indirectly warns you of such through an informative, yet poorly produced and somewhat inappropriate video that is played before the comedy starts.  In this video, Todd Glass lays out the audience's involvement, "Laugh, shut up, laugh, shut up, laugh."  What can be simpler than that, he asks?  Evidently a whole slew of things are simpler than that for me.  I got a little hung up on the shut up command and forgot to laugh.  Except, you can't forget to laugh, that's the thing about laughing, it's not something you remember to do, it just happens.  Sure, some people can fake it, but I am not one of those people, and I know this about myself.  I can't fake laugh, I can't fake smile, I can't do that fake cough to conceal an insult, I can't fake anything.  I'm going to blame the video for me not seeing the warning.  It really does make it seem too easy.  It was like watching an infomercial for a product I knew I absolutely could not use and did not need.  If the video was filmed more like an Exit Row warning on a plane flight* I would have identified with that possibly not English speaking man or woman struggling to lift the handle on the door.  Then I would not have answered, silently to myself, "Yes, I feel I am capable to complete these tasks of laughing and shutting up if the situation so calls for it." 
WRONG ANSWER.
I should have said: NOOOO.  I cannot complete the simple tasks of laughing and shutting up in alternating sequence for the duration of a comedy show because I know myself very well and I know that I am incapable of forcing a laugh with any believability.  Please arrange me to switch seats with a more capable audience member.   
 
So there I was, seated front and center, direct center, the mic stand and I were engaged in a stare-down.  The stair to aboard the stage nested against the back legs of my chair.  I was it.  There was a target on my seat and I should have moved it before I sat down.  My brother even offered to switch chairs with me.  But I said, 'no, no, it'll be fine.' 
WRONG ANSWER. 
I should have said, YES, please.  They may end up doing stand-up before recording the podcast and I am in a prime spot for being involved in those stand-up bits.

But at the time I didn't know.  I didn't know that each of the three guests were going to perform 10 minutes of stand-up before the show and before my eyes.  So I sat, and I listened.
The first comedian was painful but tolerable with his out-dated Olympics and Michael Phelps material but not once did he involve me or look my way so I applauded as he left the stage. 
The second comedian was a female - an instant red flag.  There aren't a lot of female comedians, and for good reason, most females aren't funny, with the exception of Chelsea Handler.  Some of them are, sure, but most of them are not, and very few are as funny as men, because men can make men and women laugh but women, they can barely make other women laugh so trying to make men laugh can seem like a waste of time.  Being the only female in the immediate front, I was the barometer for this female comic.  If I was laughing she was doing well; if I wasn't, things were going poorly.  So she looked at me, long and often, sometimes glaring sometimes staring.  And though I can't fake laugh, I can make eye contact like a staring contest champ and once that happened, it was over.  She waved her invitation I so adoringly sent her in the mail and I opened the door.  "Please, come in, use me."  Now, there are two types of female comedians: lesbians and whores, this one was of the latter variety, and luckily that's the variety, if I had to pick one, whose comedy I'd prefer.  Not because I'm a whore, I'm not, but because we have shared interests: alcohol - cheers!, abortion humor - kill it!, and, well, that's about it, but two isn't bad.  And I'm not saying she wasn't funny, she was funny, at times, but smile and nod funny, not laugh out loud funny, and so I wasn't laughing out loud, I was mostly just shutting up.  So she asked me, "Why aren't you laughing?"  And I said, "I'm laughing when you aren't looking."
WRONG ANSWER
I should/shouldn't have said: Because you aren't that funny, but that would have ended poorly and possibly in a challenge that I would have inevitably lost, so I went the safe route which was not really that safe at all because it still ended in a challenge. 
Now she was determined to make me laugh, but for some reason felt that we should get to know each other first, so she asked my name who I was with and other things that did not lead to punchlines as much as me wanting to punch her.  Eventually she did make me laugh, I don't remember what she said and I'm pretty sure I just threw up some laughs at the next pause so we could end our relationship.   

The hilarious part of the scenario, according to my brother, was unknown to me while all of this was occurring.  I didn't know who this person was, aside from short, but my brother did, so he also knew that I actually love/d something she was involved it.  The female comedian was non-other than Dawn host of Mtv's short-lived but much-loved (by me and like two of my friends) show The '70s House.  The show that inspired me to install a Hustle Alarm in my own home.  I said inspired, I haven't done it.  Yet.  Admittedly, she was probably my least favorite part of the show and I often remarked, 'Why does this show even need a host(ess)?'  She's also involved in some other things or vary levels of amusement, some of which I even enjoy, but none of that matters, because the most recent thing she has been involved in is making me feel uncomfortable, and that's what I will remember of her.  Sure, I don't know what it's like to be doing stand-up and stare down at the unsmiling face of a female sitting with arms crossed, maybe it's worse than being heckled, but I think I'd prefer it to being hell-ed, at least then you're in control, and hopefully getting paid.  
 
Although I'm pretty sure I bombed at my latest gig as an audience member, at least now I have a rival, and Hate is good if you want to blow a minor event way out of proportion in an attempt to convince yourself that things happen in your life even though you don't do anything about them at the time but only write about it later one.  Hell, that's what blogs are for, right?
 
Do the HUSTLE.
 
 
* trademark Doug Benson, April 28, 2010.

H-Weeks (Weeks 15-16)

H is for Happening.

It's happening, slowly and barely, but it is. H-weeks are here. It's Thursday, the only day of the week with an H in it so it's the best day to finally get started.
For H-weeks I'll be saying Hello, Hey, Hi, Howdy, and Hailing everyone I see, hm, on second thought, maybe only half of them.
Here's what I have for H-things so far:
Hopscotch
Heaven/Hell
Hair
Halitosis
Hype
...which is probably all this is because I have a feeling I'll only get around to one of these, hm, maybe half that. Can you play half a hopscotch course?

Here we go H-weeks.

Oh, and in case you don't know or aren't familiar. Here's what an H looks like:
Capital: H
Lowercase: h.

Grow, Goddamnit.

G is for garden.

Since it was the first think I could think of that started with G (after goats, and I wasn't going to raise one of those), I decided to start, no, start isn't the right word, attempt gardening. I had some suitable planters in my backyard but unfortunately they were overgrown with unidentifiable plants which had roots that looked like veins. I'm not a planter or an ecologist or even an 'outdoor' person (my thumbs are the furthest color from green) but judging from the root structure of the plants, I'd say they had been there about one to two thousand years, but I could be wrong.
Although I'm not expecting great results, mostly because I've been told I will not yield great results, 'gardening', or my version of it, has proven to be fertile ground for thinking, so here are some of my thoughts on gardening. Call them plants for thought... Why does it work with food? Maybe my brain will grow but I doubt it.


Garden Thoughts
- Probably should have worn gloves to avoid the similarity between my arms and teenage cutters' arms.

- Maybe I should have told these critters (snails, spiders, bugs, etc.) that they were getting evicted. I'm sure they would have appreciated the notice. I know I would have. I hope they don't come destroy my home as payback.

- Snails, okay. Spiders, sure. Lizards?!? What the Fuck?

- Don't get into a tug-o-war with a well-rooted plant. You will lose and you will snack your hand into a nearby cement brink wall.

- Spiders don't have much familial loyalty. Many babies were abandoned because they couldn't keep up with their fleeing parents.

- Planting seeds and then abandoning them to die (which I will inevitably do because I am a quitter) feels kind of like an abortion. The least I could do is give them an enjoyable death. Tomorrow I will 'water' my plants with beer. Seed-al Alcohol Syndrome.

- Rollie-pollies aren't as talented as you think. They can't really roll up and turn themselves over. I watched one struggle to grasp at a thin swing to help itself flip over. I guess the ground underneath him was too uneven. I wonder how that happened. Huh...

- Do the inventors of the hoe know the corners are much more useful than the flat edge?

- This would be a lot easier if I was shorter or lower to the ground. No wonder garden gnomes are so good at this. I gotta get me one of those.

Hm, I don't think there's water in that can...

G-Weeks (Weeks 13-14)

G is for Give Up?

F-weeks were a f***ing failure which, while appropriate, was not a lot of fun. Now G-weeks are almost a goner (half over) and not going that great, but I am not Going to Give up, at least not until Qs, though I may listen to Give Up.

During Fs I started working on a Garden in preparation for Gs which left Fs to fall to the wayside. Nothing is growing yet though I did plant a lot of Greens, but I still use it to generate some Gs or at least a post. Also I've been Googling a lot and reading up on Geekologie while wearing Goldschmied G-eans (jeans), so I'm not too worried about Gs. Plus with the return of Glee tomorrow night I can be nothing but Glad, even if it's not going to be that good.

I'm not going to give it up like a 15 year old girl with low self-esteem just yet. I've got diGnity. Gah. I need some Gin.

F-weeks (weeks 11-12)

Fuck.
Forgot.
Fail.
Fuck.

Four Fs for F-weeks.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

F-weeks (weeks 11-12)

Fuck.
Forgot.
Fail.
Fuck.

Four Fs for F-weeks.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

F-weeks (weeks 11-12)

Fuck.
Forgot.
Fail.
Fuck.

Four Fs for F-weeks.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

E Words...for Eternity

E is for Epitaph

Today, I decided to read some epitaphs in honor of E-weeks. Epitaphs are often concise evaluations of a person's life found on gravestones or plaques for the cremated, written by the deceased, those who knew him/her, or whoever was doing the carving. Similar to last words, they've since fallen out of fashion and are rarely recorded or remembered. Popularly, the famous and influential receive engraved epitaphs while the common and inconsequential have simply dates and names and perhaps a cross, presumably because it was expensive to etch additional words into stone and people really only want to know how old you were when you died anyway, so they can say things like 'aah, so sad, a life cut short' or 'just before his 33rd birthday, a shame'. What's a real shame is that the unknown don't get epitaphs and explanations on their headstones. I know who Benjamin Franklin is, I don't need an explanation of his life, but that man over there, who is he, and why is he buried next to his daughter and not his wife? Either way, I think all headstones should feature epitaphs and explanations of a person's life, or at the very least their death. Sometimes people die in more interesting ways than they lived. It would increase cemetery visitation exponentially.

Below are Eleven Epitaphs I enjoy. I'm going to work on writing my own now. I can't pass up an opportunity to say something that will be set in stone. It surprises me that so many people do. You have your whole life to think about it and you come up with nothing, now that's embarrassing.

"If you live life right death is a joke as far as fear is concerned" - Will Rogers (himself)

"Don't Try" - Charles Bukowski (by himself)

"O friends, don't cry - it's just unused sleep." - Walter Chiari (by himself)

"Here lies the body of Richard Hind,Who was neither ingenious, sober, nor kind." - Richard Hind

"He lies here, somewhere." - Werner Heisenberg (unknown) of the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. Look it up.

"Excuse My Dust." - Dorothy Parker (by herself)

"The Only Proof He Needed for the Existence of God was Music." - Kurt Vonnegut (himself)

Royal O'Reilly Tenenbaum (1932-2001) Died Tragically Rescuing His Family From The Remains Of A Destroyed Sinking Battleship - Royal Tenenbaum (At his suggestion)

Here lies the body of

a girl who died,

Nobody mourned and

nobody cried.

How she lived and

how she fared,

Nobody knew and

nobody cared.

- Gussie (an orphan)

"What is it like after you are dead? Like it was before you were born and for just as long."
- Eugene Leighton Lawler

"Sh-h-h" - Thomas O. Murphy

E Art

E is for esthetics.

Here's an image of a letter E created by a set designer Nicola Yeoman and photographer Dan Tobin Smith. It looks a lot like the cover of Jay-z's Blueprint 3 (below). I don't know if there's any inspiration involved and I'm not calling thief on a man who's got a million ways to get it, but the resemblance is there. By the way, Blueprint 3 is an excellent album that I shouldn't be listening to these weeks, but I can't escape it. Empire State of Mind starts with E...that's good enough, right? No? Jay-Zeee has an e sound, how about that?

E-weeks (Weeks 9-10)

E is for eeeeeee.

It's E-weeks, everybody. Ds proved to be more daunting causing a dip into depression and a dearth of discussion and displays. Es should be more Exciting; they have to be, the letter requires it. Here's a bit about Es.
E is the second vowel for the alphabet experiment experience.
The Upper and lowercase versions of E look a bit different.
Upper: E
lower: e
The Uppercase one is clearly the more rigid of the two with all of those right angles, but you can see how the little one came from the big one. The family resemblance is eerie.
Eerie is a good word to showcase the letter e as it has three.
Three also has some ees, 2. Two has no ees, but one has 1, as does zero, and none. E is easily the most popular letter among the numbers, with great representation by those teens.
One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty...Thirty-Three Es!
To show numbers' appreciation of es involvement, they deemed it a mathematical constant. You can find him showing up around exponential functions.
You've probably also seen the equation E=mc² and have no idea what it means.
E is also a musical note.
E even has its own television station, which I thought was a little excessive. How much time can you really spend on E? I'd say about 2 weeks is Enough.
That must be why the academic grading system chose to overlook E as a viable mark indicating a child's aptitude, instead moving on to F. I, on the other hand, will not be excluding E.

Evidently, E gets around, so hopefully Es will be easier than Ds.

D Appetizer

D is for date.

Since I didn't get asked out on a real date at all during D weeks so I decided to make my own dates. Well, not actually make them because I didn't grow them but I did prepare them, which is a process. De-pitting dates is not an activity I would recommend doing on an actual date, just to the fruit. Unlike a social date, or a calendar date, dates are decidedly delicious. As the old saying goes, dates are great, but I'd rather eat. If you're not familiar with dates, there are some picture to the right. They look like large raisins that are slightly less shriveled. If you want to know more about dates, look it up. I'm not going to bother educating you. If you want to know more about the other kind of dates, you're out of luck, because I too am clueless. I hear they have websites where you can get dates for free though, so look into that.

I prepared blue cheese-stuffed, bacon-wrapped dates for D-weeks D appetizer because I couldn't think of any other D foods, despite how deep I delved. I made a lemon-dill sauce and put it on some fish the other night but it was nothing to photograph, and there was a lack of Ds. Okay, I'm just lazy. There's also a lack of Ds in this recipe, but there's a couple of past-tense verbs ending in Ds.


Blue Cheese-Stuffed, Bacon-Wrapped Dates: A -
Cheese-stuffed dates are not an original idea. Restaurants do it often with all sorts of different cheese. I chose blue because it's one of my favorites and it manages to retain some integrity even when heated and baked, but still melts a bit. The nice part about dates being a pitted fruit is that, once you remove the pit, they are primed for stuffing because there's a hole where the pit once was, kind of like how there's a hole where your heart used to be after you were broken up with after, what you thought were, 5 delightful dates with a dashing gentleman, dapper too. I wrapped them in apple-smoked bacon and held them together with toothpicks. After baking for about 20 minutes in a 375 degree oven the dates were ready to plate. The bacon seals together with the magical powers of bacon fat so the toothpicks can be removed and deliciousness enjoyed without stabbing and dying during your dinner. No one died during the preparation or consumption of this dish.


Ingredients purchased at my local neighbourhood grocery outpost Trader Joe's

Dress a Day - Day 5

D is for duster.

Although, I'm not wearing a duster and just a dress. The sweater is a poor excuse for a duster as it isn't protecting the dress whatsoever from dust particles dropping on it. Dusting in a dress is a practice that should be reintroduced into common society. I'm doing my part.

Dress a Day - Day 4

D is for dressed.

Today's dress is monochromatic in design, with an additional D of Drambuie, which I proceeded to drink and drink. My Dedication to Ds is Dangerous. Also featured: some dreadful carpeting.

Dress a Day - Day 3

D is for Dots.

Dozens of dozens of dots decorate today's dress, in some of the most desirable colors - brown, yellow, orange and fuchsia. It's pretty easy to play dot-to-dot on it thought as the dots are already touching. I guess I could have worn this during Cs if you choose to call them circles. I do not. Also, the dress has pockets, a definite plus on any dress and an unofficial criteria of mine when dress shopping (Note: Day Two's Dress has pockets too). It appears to have a long sleeve shirt underneath it but I assure you that is part of the dress. It is one piece. The tights are separate though. And now for the extra D! In my hand sits a small dinosaur. He walks when you wind him up but he doesn't roar so he makes a great pet.

Dress a Day - Day 2

D is for Dichromatic.

Today's dress is dichromatic, consisting of two colors - brown and blue. It would have been suitable for B-weeks at is has buttons too. The added D for this day is a Dictionary. It's blue too. I look quite dapper if I do say so myself, and I do. My boss thought I was too dressed up and in classic-cheesy-joke-telling boss fashion that manages to be so unfashionable he joked, 'What? Got a job interview?' To which I replied, 'No.' He then proceeded to explain to me that it was a joke and that's what people used to say when a person came more dressed up then usual to work. I left to go to lunch, unamused.

Dress a Day - Day 1

D is for Don.

Don I now the Day's apparel - a Dress. For the final week of D weeks I will be wearing a dress a day. Today's dress is brought to you by American Apparel which could have come in handy during A weeks if they had felt compelled to sponsor me by providing me with apparel of American origin. Alas, they did not, maybe next year. To add another D, the picture was taken in front of double doors, while it was dark out.

D Dilemma.

D is for...

It's Day 5 of D weeks and I'm in a drought of ideas, particularly for D foods.

There just aren't that many.

- Duck (could get pricey eating duck everyday)

- Dates (I'll take as many as I can get but it's tough to make a meal out of them, though expect to see some wrapped in bacon),

- Dips (does that even count as a food?)

- Doughnuts (that'll be a good day, maybe D-shaped ones)

- Dogs, hot (it's a stretch, I know)

- Dill (I don't know if I can handle putting dill on everything, but I'll dare to try)

- Deer (I don't know where to get deer meat)

- Dolphin (probably too smart to be caught and killed but don't they deserve it)

- Dairy? (I do like cheese. It also has a lot of Vitamin D. Double-dose of D!)

I could just eat dinner and dessert for a day, except I'm not much for breakfasts (or at least not waking up early to eat them) and lunch is basically a filler meal anyway so I kind of already do that. I guess I'll just stick to drinking. That's a D I can do.

Here's a list of foods high in Vitamin D that I'm considering dining on. It includes a lot of fish and seafood (not C-foods) and some dumb entries like #18, of course soy milk with added Vitamin D has a lot of Vitamin D in it. They put it in there deliberately. Do you know what else contains a lot of Vitamin D? Vitamin D supplement pills! I wonder why.

D weeks (weeks 7-8)

It's D weeks!
Time for exciting features like the Danger Zone, diabetes, dragons, and of course, dinosaurs.
There may be a few days of experimental (daring?) dieting and dress donning as well.

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

C Meal C-quel

C is for Chi-chi-chi-chili.

C-ing as it is C-weeks, though not for much longer, I decided I ought to make chili. So I searched for a chili recipe with the most Cs in it I could find. I came across Chili con Carne topped with Cheddar Cheese and thought, with a C count of 5, that would do just find. I added some cornbread on the side for an additional C. Total C count: 6.

Chili con Carne topped with Cheese: A- The chili recipe was pretty straight forward and contained some valuables ces in it as well, including carrots, chili powder, cumin and I added cayenne as well. The result was tasty with a pleasant but not off-putting amount of heat. The cheese added a nice creamy element to it as it melted into the chili.

Cornbread: C. Cooking confession: It came from a box. What can I say? Sometimes you find a box of cornbread mix in the cupboards above your counter that you forget you have even though you frequently hit your head on them and think, 'When did I buy this?' or, better, 'Did I even buy this?' I decided to make it because it's not everyday you find mystery cornbread in your cupboards that the previous owners of the house may have bought and not used before they died. It was pretty standard cornbread and actually not terrible to eat, but I have to give myself a lower grade since I basically cheated, but, hey, it's C-weeks so that's allowed. I should have been cheating since the start.

Recipe

C List

C is for Could.

I made A list of C things I should probably B doing because they are so thematically appropriate (double or triple Cs) but will not be doing because I am so opposed to them for one reason or multiple.

Listening to the Counting Crows - I can't stand the Counting Crows with their alt-rock-folksy instrumentation and Adam Duritz strange forced soulful, reggae impression of another singer who is also a bad singer.

Eating Cotton Candy - Does anyone really like Cotton Candy? I guess it's novel. Sugar Spun So Fast it Becomes String! Like a side-show Circus act but it just tastes like sugary air and gets really sticky.

Watching Cold Case - I honestly don't know if this is a version of Law & Order or CSI or a complete separate show but they all look the same and I've seen episodes of Law & Order, back in the '90s when it was good and there was only one of them, so I think I've served my time. Case closed.

Dancing the Cha-cha-cha - I don't know how to do this dance and I'm not even entirely sure that it is a dance as much as just one move that you do three times rapidly in sequence. If that's all it is, I can do that, I guess. 1-2...typetypetype. I just typed the cha-cha-cha. Challenge complete.

Calling Collect - I'm not that poor yet and I'm not getting released from jail (they let you use the phone there anyway) so there's really no reason I should call collect. Plus, I know for a fact that anyone I called (parents included) would not accept my call and that would just piss me off and drive me to drink. Then I'd probably end up in jail, but still wouldn't have a need to call collect as much as I would for a whole lot of cash.

Counting Coins - Why would I sit around and count coins? That sounds almost as boring as collecting coins, which I don't do either, at least not intentionally, but often accidentally. I forget when I have change so I never use it and it just accumulates. Come to think of it...I have a lot of coins in my coin canister. I think I will count them and see if they are ready to be turned into cold hard cash. Coinstar, here I come!

Chasing cars - This one is obvious. I'm not a long-distance runner...or a dog.

Camel Caravan - I'm not sure how I would go about getting enough camels for a caravan otherwise I would definitely do this. I know a few people with Corollas so maybe I'll line them up and have them drive around. Or I'll just find a CaraVan. Do they still make those?

That's all I have for now but I'll C if I can think of some more while I'm getting multiple CCs of blood drawn.

C Meal

C is for cookin'.

What's the most romantic food you can think of? Some may say, chocolate covered strawberries. Others, oysters. Or perhaps fondue. What did my particular gentleman caller say? Fried Chicken, and no, he's not black. So I made Fried Chicken for Valentine's Day, spicy fried chicken to be specific, by request. Because buying food and cooking is easier than buying a gift. I added some collard greens to the menu and chipotle cornbread to round out the meal. Luckily enough of the elements started with C that I didn't protest the meal that would most assuredly result in the ever-attractive greasy fingers and mouths, in addition to possible bloating and indigestion and, of course, laziness. I didn't protest because of the predominant Cs and because it's black history month, and if NBC can cook along so can I. Plus, I had a surprisingly competent sous chef. Who knew boys could read and follow a recipe?

C count for the menu: Spicy Fried Chicken, Slow-Cooked Collard Greens, and Chipotle Cornbread. Cs: 5.

Spicy Fried Chicken: B +.
The fried chicken turned out better than expected considering my lack of experience and roots to help me out. The batter had some exciting C spices including Cumin and Cayenne, to add some more C-ness to the dish. It was more salty that spicy, but it had a nice kick at the end. Trouble-shooting the frying of the chicken was a pain because I didn't have a thermometer to check the heat of the oil. (I've broken 4 and I'm sick of spending money on them.) and frying each piece one at a time almost caused this to become Day-After-Valentine's-Day-Breakfast but we made it through. For an extra C, there is cilantro sprinkled on the fried chicken. Bringing the 6 count up to 6, or maybe 8 if you count Cayenne and Cumin.

Slow-Cooked Collard Greens: A+.
Little known fact about me: I love Collard Greens and I have no idea why, but I think they're great, when made properly. I don't even understand what they are exactly aside from large leafy greens that are really fun to clean/destem and taste like nothing when you start cooking them but taste like magic when you're done, provided you add the necessary flavor enhancers. Mine had bacon, onions, celery and peppers in them for added flavor and some spices and salt and pepper of course. I also added some of the sauce from the chipotle peppers for some heat. They even won over my fellow diner, who was opposed to me making them from the start but can't say no to spicy foods. I'm confident he would eat them again. He had seconds, so I guess he already has.

Chipotle Cornbread: A+
Adding minced chipotles to ordinary cornbread not only increased my C count but also added another spicy dish to the menu. It turned out nearly perfect despite a little worry along the way. Ovens can be so difficult to gauge the temperature of. It was crumbly but not too crumbly and have chipotle evenly dispersed throughout.


My plating was sub-par.
Plating: C.
Originality: C.
Use of secret ingredient (letter C): A!
I'm not going to win Iron Chef at this rate.

The pictures are pretty lousy and orange, because I took them with my phone and essentially the same shot at a slightly different angle, because I was hungry, but it gives you an idea. What's that? Excuses don't start with C? No, but complaints sure do. So thanks!

Recipes, if you're curious, or epicurious...
Spicy Fried Chicken
Collard Greens (I added a lot to this recipe and used bacon instead of a ham hock.)
Chipotle Cornbread

Committee Crime

C is for Competition

Currently, the 2010 Winter Olympics are taking place in Vancouver, Canada and that's awesome. I love the Olympics. They are competitive, nationalistic, ritualistic and, best of all, televised. It's the perfect platform for humans to prove just how insane they are and how awesome they think they are. It's the only perfect thing that man has created and the International Olympic Committee has decided to shit on all that is right and just and pure and perfect about the best global athletic event of every two years by coming up with the YOG.

What's the YOG? The YOUTH Olympic Games. That's right, children. No one wants to watch competitive hopscotch, jump rope and red rover for 2 weeks straight (okay, that might not be that bad), but that's not even what the Youth Olympic Games will consist of. It will have all of the normal events just performed by uncoordinated children. They're letting children participate in the official Olympic events and awarding them medals for their performances. This isn't a game, IOC. This is the Olympic (Games)! I can't believe it. Children. I told you they'd ruin everything. I'm fine with adults gloating and becoming disproportionately proud and confident as a result of winning a medal or even participating in the Olympics, but not children. They don't deserve Olympic status until they are 18 just like legal rights. Let them get good before you put them into the Olympics with the best of the best. And if they're already good, let them get better. It's like the Special Olympics but worse. It's going to be people falling and tumbling and bumbling around (not that I don't like seeing people fall and fail, I do), except at the Special Olympics it's expected, there's no chance those 'challenged' individuals are going to improve, but children can, so let them, and then put them on TV.

Evidently, the IOC decided this in 2007 and didn't even think to consult me or even tell me. They say it's the inspire the youth, but you know what else will inspire the youth? Watching the Olympics on TV and thinking, 'One day I can be on that podium if I'm good enough.' Not telling them they just have to be marginally better than the other kids in their freshman class and a few Chinese kids.

The first Youth Olympic Summer Games is schedule to take place in Singapore in August of this year with the Winter Games to take place in 2012 in Innsbruck. I suppose it's nice that they're alternating with the normal Olympic Games and providing us with even more "Olympics" to view, but is that really what we need? Doesn't that cheapen it? If we get to view the games not only every 2 years, but twice in those years? I don't know. Am I going to watch it? Probably, if it's on. Am I going to like it? NO, because there are children involved.

C Section

C is for Children.

It's said that the most important decision you make is who you marry - or, similarly, whether or not to marry, but the people who say that don't typically think about not ever getting married so they don't usually include that in the statement; it's implied nonetheless. Sure, it's a big deal, and a big expense, but it's not irreversible so, although it's pretty damn important to think about who to marry and who to not marry, it can't be the most important decision you make because it can technically be unmade at anytime. Not permanent = not that important, still important though so don't go throwing off your wedding bands, unless you do think your marriage is not important at all, then you probably shouldn't be married, so go ahead.
So if who you marry isn't the most important decision you make in life, what is? Something has to be, right? People make a lot of decisions throughout their lives, one of them has to be the most important, that's just the way important things, and an obsession with ranking, go.
The most important decision you will ever make in your life is whether or not to have kids, then the subsequent question of how many, which, I guess, would make the list as the second most important decision, and third and fourth and fifth, depending on how many kids you have. After the fifth it's really not a decision anymore, you're locked in and keep popping out babies because you've forgotten how to do anything else other than cry. It isn't said that this is the most important decision though, because some (maybe a lot, I don't really know the figures) people don't even think about it or decide to do it. It's not even a decision that is made, it just happens because they're irresponsible and got raped or have bad luck and the condom broke, so, for these, it can't be the most important decision made, but it should have been.
There are a few reasons why having a baby is the most important decision in life and why it outranks marriage.

1. Irreversible/Unchangeable (I'm trying for Cs). In marriage, what is made - a married couple - can be unmade - into a divorced couple. But in childbirth, what is made - a baby - can not be unmade, unless you kill it, but after it's born most people don't go to that length to unmake it. Once you make the baby decision you're stuck with it. It's your child and you're the parent, and parenting is forever. Sure, people used to think (and some still do) marriage was an irreversible decision which is probably how the question of who to marry secured the spot as the most important decision for so long, but even those people, then and now, know that it isn't permanent. People die in plane crashes, car collisions even more often. You could lose your spouse, and if things were going sour you could leave or swap, and even make it on television while doing so. Even if you lose your baby, you're still a parent, just a very bad one. How do you lose your baby?! (I would probably end up losing my baby. They are tiny and so silent when they're sleeping. And I lose my keys often as it is.)

2. Creation. When/If you make the decision to make, have, keep a baby you are not just making a decision, you're making a life too. When you get married you make a 'new life' together with your spouse, but no one really cares. You two can sit in your living room and watch The Bachelor until one of you cheats, that's not a life other people in the world are worried about. But a baby's life, that gets people worried, that life has potential. A baby is a life that is going to affect your life, its life, and the lives of other people. There are other people in the world too, that this baby is going to interact with and wail in restaurants around and annoy, and then grow up and still be really irritating because you didn't give them enough attention as a child. Think of the others, there are a hell of a lot of them already. If you don't think making a life is a big decision, maybe you have the mind of a serial killer (making a life doesn't matter, taking can't be that important either), and I don't want you passing those demented genes onto children. We have enough of those already. What if you give birth to a serial killer baby (that'd be pretty impressive for a baby to pull off but you know it would never get caught. No one ever suspects the baby.)? Would you like that on your conscience (assuming you have one, what kind of person gives birth to a serial killer? Likely not one with a conscience) for the rest of your life? After all, the baby is a little bit you. You'd probably feel like rubbish about bringing another killer into the world or a cult leader who turns other children against their parents and tries to kill you.

3. Controlling. Babies are little creatures which enter your life and take control of it and you can never get it back, even when they leave, they'll return and they'll come back with babies of their own and trick you into taking care of those babies too. It's a cycle. A cycle you need to think long and hard about before entering. The child(ren) will influence every other decision you make causing it to become the mother of all decisions and thus making it the most important decision ever. After you make the decision to have a baby, you can't make any other decision without considering the child or you're a bad mother/father and child protective services might come knocking on your door (depending on how bad the decisions you're making are). The child depends on your. Your husband or wife doesn't really need you in order to breathe, eat and live (unless you married a baby in which case - gross and possibly illegal), but a baby does. A baby controls your life by being so needy and one misstep and it's dead. No one is going to come knocking at your door if you piss of your husband or wife, unless you pissed them off by punching them in the face. Remember, you can't punch your baby.

4. Incompetent/Incapable. You can't make a baby. You don't know how to raise a baby. You've never created and sustained the life of a living being before, what makes you think you can just pop out a baby and start now? Even if you think you'll be a good parent, you won't be. Being a parent is an impossible thing to succeed at. There's always something you can do wrong and a new one will be released next week, so don't bother. You'll mess up and feel like shit about it, or maybe you won't, which is just another way of messing up. Your children will inevitably disappoint you. They will not become doctors (unless you're Jewish) and they will not make millions of dollars (unless you're Jewish). Sure, maybe physically you can have a baby, but you can't really have a baby. It's not a good idea to decide to do something you're going to fail at.

5. Creepy. Having a baby is a really creepy thing to do. Taking a bit of you and mixing it around with a little bit of someone else is a creepy idea and a very disturbing impulse to have. It's a little bit vampire and a little bit Dr. Frankenstein, and whatever you've heard about either, they are not sexy. Even though sex is involved and very intimately involved in the process of making a baby, it's not sexy. You're taking sex and making it something entirely creepy and not the right way by adding school girl bear costumes. Think about this before you make a baby, because it's going to change sex for you and for everyone else around you. Don't remind your friends that if they mess up doing something they really enjoy they could end up with a child. That's going to ruin it for them. That's not what anyone want to hear before they go out to drink copious amounts of alcohol and pick up on chicks (or dicks). Plus, children themselves are creepy. They are miniaturized versions of humans. That is creepy.

5. Change. It's going to change your life. It has to. Yes, marriage changes your life as well, now you have to live with someone and account for all of your expenses and actions but a baby doesn't just change your life it changes you. It's not a positive change. It's a change for the worse. Having children doesn't make you a better person. It just makes you crazy and angry, and usually fat. When you have a baby, you start speaking in little voices. You'll think it's cute to give all of your children the same first initial. Your mind deteriorates a little bit each day you have a child and you forget how to operate in the outside world. And it only gets worse as you and it gets older. That's not change anyone can believe in.

So remember, just because you can make a baby doesn't mean you should make a baby. Think long and hard about it before you decide to ruin your body, life, and the lives of others, including your child(ren). If you're not convinced, go watch all of the Children of the Corn movies. All of them. There are 7.

C Sickness

C is for coughcoughcough.

Cough-Cubby is bound to Catch a Cold dressed like that.

My body may be more dedicated to the xyzabet challenge than I am. For the second week of C weeks it has decided to come down with a cough and a cold. While I do admire my body's dedication, I can't say I'm enjoying it. It's nothing severe but it doesn't take much for me to stop caring and use even the faintest (and often fakest sounding) of coughs to justify sitting on the couch, eating crackers, and not doing anything else. And the Olympics sure aren't helping either. They're in Canada, it counts!

It's nothing severe and doesn't warrant a check-up (who has that kind of cash or coverage anyway?). But I might need to check some dates. I could be expired. It's feeling about that time. It's important to check...

Here's a comforting comic from picturesforsadchildren, which is appropriate because children starts with C and so does comics, also the author/illustrators last name is Campbell (another C), and I don't want to say it, but I have to, it's sometimes downright Cute (yet another C!). So, see. Also it's probably the only comic that can make you want to smile, cry, laugh, die, hide, and ooh-and-aah all at the same time leaving you conflicted and staring, and hopefully alone.
And that's another thing, if I was a child I would have a parent to comfort and care for me during my time of sickness. Instead I have my mother asking me if I sent the check. And my credit card asking for cash too. Everyone is getting on the C wagon in all the wrong ways. Get off, people!




...I think I need more cold medicine.