Archive for the 'stories' Category

Oh, I forgot to mention.

February 5, 2007

I finally saw the bad family Christmas card that my in-laws sent out. I wouldn’t say that I’m scowling, but I definitely look vexed. And I probably was, considering that Tim’s aunt went on some kind of freak-rant about how the wine Tim and I brought was dessert wine, which it wasn’t, but since she’s got shitloads of money* it apparently means that she knows EVERYTHING ABOUT WINE.

I’m not sure if the picture is the worst thing about the card, though. I’m not particularly happy having my name associated with a religious holiday card of the “camels visiting the Baby Jesus and have a blessed holiday season” variety. They don’t get that I’m not religious, nor is Tim. I keep getting religious geegaws from them: nativity sets, angel protection charms for my car, that kind of stuff. I have no idea what I’m going to do with it. Anyone want a primitive-style wooden nativity set? Come on! You know you do! The Baby Jesus looks like a peanut!

I am also not happy that the card is (electronically) signed “from the In-Laws Family: Nanette, Tim, [insert in-laws names here].”

Seriously, if I had wanted to send out holiday cards, I would have sent out my own damn holiday cards. I did not ask my in-laws to send holiday greetings on my behalf.

My 81-year-old grandmother was right, though: they do look like a bunch of dorks in the photo, what with the grinning and the festive holiday-wear. I swear I will never, ever let those people near me with a camera ever again.

*She also has a house that looks like a Miami drug lord’s hangout, circa 1983. The wallpaper in their downstairs bathroom kills me. It’s teal and magenta paintbrush swishes. I feel like people should be snorting coke off the top of her toilet tank. Someday I shall brave her and her stockbrokerbankerdude husband who refuses to acknowledge my presence and take a picture for posterity.

Kidz Rap.

February 5, 2007

Okay, so I know I’ve written about the Kidz Bop series of CDs before. They’re these awful compilations of kiddie cover versions of popular songs that are insanely popular with the elementary-school aged youth of College Town. These things are so evil that they make me want to have my ovaries removed to prevent me from ever having a child so I will never have to purchase such a ridiculous thing, ever.

It gets better, though.

Today, I received a copy of Kidz Rap Radio, which is apparently the rap music version of Kidz Bop. If you thought a kiddie version of “Take Me Out” was nutty, wait until you hear the kiddie version of The Ying Yang Twins’ “Wait (The Whisper Song.” You know, the song with these lyrics, which are so not safe for work that they may set your computer aflame with their straight-up dirtiness.

Needless to say, the sanitized version is only 2 minutes and 30 seconds long, and features the refrain “Wait ’till you see my kicks.” The Ying Yang Twins did not mention shoes at all in the original version. As a matter of fact, I’m sure that all shoes had already been removed. As well as pants. And underpants.

There’s also a version of “Laffy Taffy,” another song I’ve blogged about before, but I can’t bring myself to listen to it.

Also, I would love it if someone would tell some of the folks on Newlib-L to shut up. Seriously. This argument about whether or not MLS holders are entitled to a job is getting stupid. It’s the same five people going “yes it is!” “no it’s not!” over and over and over.

I can’t believe some of the people out there who consistently make asses of themselves online and then wonder why they can’t find a job.

Night of the tornado!

April 7, 2006

Last Sunday, Tim and I went to Decatur to visit some friends and to enjoy the lush, delightful smell of soybean processing in action. We knew that the weather was supposed to get nasty that afternoon, but we didn't give a crap–the last time we canceled our plans to go to D-town because the Weather Channel had a "tornadoes likely" forecast, the weather didn't do anything and we felt like jackasses.

One of our stops in Decatur was Menards, because Colin needed to return some stuff. We decided that it would be a good idea to purchase a new weather radio, because the old one is no longer functional, and because I am a weather geek who really likes to know when the Big One is coming so I can scare the living crap out of myself over it.

After a long afternoon of gyros at the Lincoln Lounge (which is surprisingly fresh-smelling on a Sunday afternoon), shopping at the Hickory Point Mall (which just isn't the same since the demise of Corn Dog 7), loafing in Colin's basement, and watching the cable TV get interrupted by tornado warnings, we decided that it would behoove us to get the heck out of Decatur while it was still semi-decent outside. We listened to the radio on the way home, and heard the warnings for the approaching storm, which hit Decatur right as we arrived back at our apartment.

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Laffy Taffy.

February 23, 2006

On the way home from work this fine afternoon, I heard a song on the radio that encouraged me to “shake that Laffy Taffy.” Since no parts of my body are reminiscent of Laffy Taffy (or Now ‘n Laters, or any other type of candy that was ridiculously popular among the students I taught back in my Catholic schoolteachin’ days), I decided to dust off my musty ol’ reference librarian skillz and do a bit of research.

According to the Urban Slang Dictionary, “laffy taffy” means ass.

So I am now off to my bellydancing class to shake my laffy taffy, which I will decorate with a jingly hipscarf!