Saturday, February 22, 2014

By Official Decree...

Dear Everybody,

We regret to inform you that Monday is cancelled.

All of it.

The decision was made earlier today by the higher-ups, the bigwigs, the grand-poobahs. The little people like us, of course, have no say in the matter.

This will undoubtedly effect the economy, but you won’t hear about it until Tuesday, since no one will be working on Monday.

Your political party will blame the other political party, and it is probably their fault after all, but they won’t be able to do anything about it until Tuesday, because there won’t be a Monday.

You might have resolved to start a new habit after the weekend, such as a healthy diet or a parkour program, but now you can’t, because no Monday. Maybe next week.

It’s going to look like Monday’s still happening – it’s still on all the calendars, and all the alarms are still going to go off – but it really is cancelled. Just take our word for it. There’s no need to get out of bed.

The Officials, Who Would Know These Things

P.S. Trust us! We wouldn’t lie about this.

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Meeting Media: Fairytale Daydreams

Meeting Media are created during actual and very important meetings while I really was paying attention. Names or other identifying information, or inappropriate comments about my boss, have been blocked out to protect the illusion of innocence.

Saturday, February 8, 2014

The Only Voice of Reason in a Cold, Cruel World

As has been mentioned before, I’m not a fan of winter. The darker days and colder temperatures leave me feeling depressed and apathetic. Usually, nothing sounds fun anymore from November to March. This year, I haven’t had that problem. I’ve had a worse one: instead of being depressed over the winter, I’m mad about it.

The day after the snow storm, I worked the circulation desk in the empty library, huddled over a space heater, wearing six layers of clothing, fuming over the knowledge that every patron who came in that day – all ten of them – was cog’s-loose crazy. No one would be out in this weather unless they were crazy.

Every time someone called and asked, “Are you open?” I responded with, “No, sir. This is a recording.” Then I laughed maniacally for several minutes. Of course we’re not open. I’m just sitting here answering the phone. These calls continued for the rest of the week.

The temperature has scarcely risen above ten degrees and I have become more than a little bitter.

Yet I still have to go out in it.

There’s snow all over the fields and the houses and the roads. I’m blinded by the glittering whiteness, wearing sunglasses indoors like a crack-addled movie star, hissing like Nosferatu as the sun’s reflected rays provide no warmth. I’m eating nourishing soups two meals out of three (and often hot cereal for the third) although I am not a fan of soup, nourishing or otherwise.

Yet I still have to go out in it.

I bundle up, so many bundles I can hardly move, clothes that are uncomfortable and itchy, that no one should ever have to wear, layers that don’t match, sweaters that look ridiculous (layered under a near fifty pound coat made of the skin and fur of actual dead animals). I remove the extra clothes at my destination – a process taking decades! – and I don them all once more when I leave. My feet are always cold and usually wet because my unattractive snow boots, while great for providing traction on icy walkways and clashing with all my other clothes, are crap at keeping the snow out of my triple layered fluffy socks.

Yet I still have to go out in it.


Because the library is still open.


Because people are still stopping by.

While they’re out.

Doing other things at other places that are also open.

And why are those places open?

To accommodate all the people stopping by.

Do you see the pattern here?

And I ask you all now, what are we all thinking?

What if we all just closed and stayed home?

The library, the bank, the grocery store, the schools, the department stores: What in God’s name are we doing open? Do you see that snow?

People don’t need to go to the library when it’s ten degrees outside and there’s snow all over the ground. They aren’t going to have a book emergency. If you don’t have a pile of unread books that you just haven’t got around to yet on an end table somewhere, you have failed as a human being.

People don’t need to go to the grocery store when the roads are icy and their tires are bad. They need to stay home and cook the stuff in their pantries. If you don’t have stuff in your pantry, what is wrong with you? Don’t you hear the news? Meteorologists were talking up this snow storm for more than a week! They’re fricking psychic up in that news station and you are the only moron in the world who didn’t listen to their prophetic mumblings. You deserve your fate.

People don’t need to go to the bank. Money is not an object right now. Let’s all agree to a pecuniary freeze: for the duration of the snow storm, no money is going anywhere in any direction to anyone and you should be neither earning nor spending. All the stores can stay closed and the workers can stay home, then other businesses can do likewise, and then larger corporations, in a sort of trickle-down event like our politicians are always promising us but never delivering.

Every day as I go out in the cold and the snow, I get angrier. Other people insist on going places and doing things and making plans – What are all these people doing out of bed, let alone out of their warm homes? What is so important that it’s worth braving this weather? Can’t it wait until spring?

Seriously, people. Just stay home.

Saturday, February 1, 2014

My Body and Me, Part II

For part I, click here.

Me: Know what would be great right now?
My body: A nap?
Me: That burrito from that one place!
My body: You mean, like, after a nap?
Me: We could get in the car and go to the place right now!
My body: That doesn't in any way resemble a nap.
Me: Maybe we'll get beans and rice to go with it...
My body: But we don't even like that burrito.
Me: Of course we do! It's spicy and cheesy and full of delicious chicken.
My body: The intestines disagree with you. Remember what happened last time? And the time before that and the time before that? Pretty much every time, really.
Me: Nope. No idea what you're talking about.
My body: Yes you do! I can see the memory over there, behind the algebra you haven't used since high school! You're just ignoring it!
Me: What algebra? I don't see anything.
My body: Preemptive Cramp Attack!
Me: Ow! Dammit! Okay! I’ll stop thinking about it!

The Day After Surgery
Me: How you doing in there?
My body: I feel like John Hurt after the dining room scene in Alien.
Me: Not that bad, surely?
My body: I feel like Frodo getting speared by that cave troll in Moria.
Me: I’m sorry you had to go through that.
My body: You know how sometimes you use the skillet to flatten chicken breasts because you're too cheap to buy a meat mallet?
Me: Cheap is a strong word, but yes?
My body: I feel like someone did that to my large intestines.
Me: So I guess going for a run is out of the question, then?
My body: Hahahahaha!!!
Me: I’ll just sit here and read a magazine, shall I?
My body: Best read it slowly.
Me: Why’s that?
My body: I won’t be getting up to get you more.

Counting Calories
My body: I'm hungry.
Me: You just ate.
My body: I'm hungry.
Me: The math says you can't be hungry.
My body: What is this math thing you speak of?
Me: Using our body weight-
My body: 180 pounds!
Me: Which is, yes, 180 pounds, and our age, I've calculated our daily calorie needs at about 1600 calories. Divided between all our meals and snacks...
My body: You told me before that you couldn't remember any algebra!
Me: Yes, but then SOMEONE decided to slack off on their exercise after a really rather minor surgery. You wouldn't know who that was, would you?
My body: Okay, you're talking, but all I hear is blah blah blah.
Me: No food for you.
My body: But I'm hungry!
Me: No you're not.
My body: I am!
Me: No you're not.
My body: I shall sing you the song of my people! *rumble rumble rumble*
Me: OMG, really? Eat this apple then but cut that out!
My body: *snarf* So good. *chomp*

One Month After Surgery
Me: Are we ready to get on this treadmill and be virtuous?
My body: Nope. Can't.
Me: And why not?
My body: Well, it's simple, isn't it? We just had that surgery.
Me: That was a month ago.
My body: And we're still in pain.
Me: What pain? We’re not in pain!
My body: We mustn't push ourselves.
Me: *starts the treadmill*
My body: Any minute now…
Me: WTF? We’re still in pain! Why didn’t you tell me?
My body: Now she gets it.

Sirius Thoughts
Me: Why didn't Sirius just write to Dumbledore after he escaped from Azkaban? Like "Dear Dumbledore, Pettigrew's at Hogwarts. Let me tell you all about it now in this letter, instead of letting him run free all year while I wander the countryside behaving recklessly and looking all the more guilty..."
My body: You're joking, right?
Me: Look, I know what you're going to say: "How would he get the letter to Dumbledore? " right? An escaped convict can't just hire an owl at the post office. But I've already thought that through. See-
My body: That's not what I meant!
Me: What then? Did I miss something?
My body: How about the fact that it's the middle of the night?
Me: Oh, that! Yes, I noticed! Isn't it great? So easy to think when it's quiet like this!
My body: Do you not see me laying here trying to sleep?
Me: This is both urgent and important. I don't expect you to understand.

Two Months After Surgery
Me: We should go running.
My body: Do tell?
Me: It’s been two months. Let’s go.
My body: I'ma ask you a very important question.
Me: Shoot.
My body: Do you actually want to go running?
Me: Oh, hell, no.
My body: That’s great! I don’t want to go running either!
Me: We’re still going.
My body: Can’t we talk about this?
Me: You’re just hoping if we talk about it long enough we won’t actually go.
My body: I would never behave that way!
Me: Great! We can talk about it while we’re running.
My body: Preemptive Cramp Attack!
Me: Dammit!