Typing From Under a Blanket

It has been snowing a little bit in Seattleland this week. Again. I have lived in this town for over a decade and I have never, ever seen the white stuff fall like this. It's not a lot by my Midwestern standards. It doesn't usually even stick after it falls, really. In the grand scheme of things, it's nothing.

But, people, I am telling you, it has GOT TO STOP.

Not even because I am cold. I can handle being cold. Heck, I am cold when it is 50 degrees outside. The real reason it has to stop is because I fear I will never leave my house again if it doesn't. I have a serious case of the cozies. Give me cold weather, a full fridge, a warm house, and (the ultimate kiss of death) a whole set of Deadwood dvds to watch, and you may never see me again. Nordic Boy and I, we just sit at home. All the time. And we never want to leave. Ever. There were things that I could have done this weekend. Things I should have done. I had free tickets to a play at the Seattle Shakespeare Company. We ditched it. There was an awesome librarian crafty party, but did I go? Nope. And there was a pub night out on Sunday evening, but again, as Ronny, Bobby, Ricky, Mike, Johnny, and Ralph would sing, you got to count me ow-out. Instead, we got under a blanket, ate grilled cheese sandwiches, and watched the snow fall. And also, watch Al Swearingen and Calamity Jane cuss people out. I am convinced this is all I need out of life.

Good thing I have to get my ass to work every day. Although that has been making me want to stay home even more, because things in Libraryland have been hella ornery lately. It's weird how these things go in waves. I can go days and days without anything too dramatic happening, and then all of a sudden, one day, it's like the entire city of Seattle has decided to collectively come to the library and freak out. Everyone lately is ANGRY. And they are especially angry at librarians, because we are being all pesky by helping them find information and doing research for them and oh, what was that other thing we do? Give them FREE STUFF. I can see why that would make someone want to go ballistic. Stupid librarians.

In other news, I think Nordic Boy is kind of rubbing off on me. Ew. Not like THAT. I mean his brain. Before a meeting yesterday, I was sitting and taking some pre-meeting notes.

Lady #1: (looking at the wall, and speaking to other people around me) What is that paneling made of? It's so interesting looking.
Lady #2: I don't know. It does look nice though.
Me: (butting in and not looking up from my notebook) It's MDF.
Dude #1: What?
Me: (still writing) MDF.
Lady #2: What is MDF?
Me: Medium Density Fiberboard.
Dude #1: What's that?
Me: (still writing) It's made from like, broken down wood fibers, and resin. They use heat and pressure to compress it together into sheets. Depending on the materials used, it can be pretty environmentally friendly. Unless they emit formaldehide from the binder, which some do, which is bad. But there are types that aren't toxic, and the materials used can be totally recycled, from like, recycled paper, or scraps from logging, or whatever. Or straw and bamboo, which are much more renewable.
(silence)
Me: (stopping writing, looking up, and seeing all three people staring at me).
(silence)
Me: I just...know that. Somehow.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

In Your Facebook

There are many, many things I love about Facebook. I love reconnecting with people that I haven't talked to in a long time. I love being able to see the photos of my friends and their families and trips and weddings and all. I love taking a moment out of my day to take a quiz on "Which Sweathog from Welcome Back Kotter Are You?" I love that I can Facebook Chat easily with my friends and relatives overseas. I love that it's easy to send my friends a quick message, or link, or photo, or video or whatever. I love that it's like having a high school/college reunion without, you know, actually having a high school/college reunion.

Those are the things I like about my Facebook experience. There are also things that confuse and perplex me. That's right, confuse AND perplex. Both. Not at all redundant, me.

The following are some of these.

The people from middle school who send you a friend request, and you accept, and then you say hi, and they NEVER MAKE A SOUND? I mean, what is that? Why are you friending me, oh silent one who I haven't seen since puberty? You have no interest in saying hello to me, or catching up, and yet here we are, Facebook friends. Goodie for us. This seems like the equivalent of asking me out on a date, and then sitting at the restaurant with me in silence the whole time. Which has actually happened to me, by the way. Except I was the one that didn't talk during the date. And that was only because I was so intimidated by the boy that I clammed up like I had too much Polident in my mouth. And I don't think that intimidation has anything to do with this behavior on Facebook. Regardless, it's weird.

The people who were assholes in high school who continue to be assholes as grownups...on Facebook. COME ON! This is your big chance to show us all that you have changed! That you grew out of it! That you have become a decent human being! There was this one guy, who lived in my neighborhood? And although he was nice to me growing up, he was pretty much a dick to anyone that he deemed not on his level. I recently saw that he had made a high schooly dickish remark on a fellow classmate's Facebook page. Really? Still? You're going to go there? Gross.

Braggy braggy on the Facebook page status updates. WHAT? WHY? "Jane is wondering what she is going wear to the Oscars." "Jack is having highballs at the London Ritz Carlton." Jane, I remember when you barfed all over the floor during dodgeball, and Jack, I pantsed you in 9th grade and saw your skidmarks, so talk to the hand, ok?

Ladies who, instead of an actual profile photo of themselves, just put a photo of their hand with a big diamond ring on it. To be fair, none of my Facebook friends have done this, but I have seen these on the "suggested friends" lists that I get.

In "real life," people are funny. And weird. And confusing. So too on Facebook, I suppose. At least now I know that I am 70% Vinnie Barbarino with 30% Freddie "Boom Boom" Washington mixed in. So thanks, Facebook, for that.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Obamarama

I hate to be a bore and talk about what everyone else is talking about in all media, everywhere. But yesterday was momentous, was it not? I mean come on. A bonafide Big Deal. And we lived it, all of us, together. That's right, people. Shia LaBeouf got his driver's license suspended, and we all had a front row seat.

Oh, and there was that other thing too. In Washington DC, I believe.

So here's what I have to say to you about this whole Obamarama we are involved in. I HAVE GOT TO STOP CRYING. It is serious waterworks around here, and I am not used to it. I am not a crier. I hardly ever boo hoo it up and yet there I was, 8am and getting all choked up. They should call the parties after the inauguration the Inaugural Bawls, because me, crying, yes, check.

Inauguration Day Recap, here we go.

First off, I got up at the crack of ass so I could drive Nordic Boy to pick up his rental car that he took to Portland for a biznazz trip. I was sad that we weren't going to be all Inaugural together, but I kept the pouting to myself. I did yawn at him quite aggressively though, so my feelings were not bottled up inside, in case you were concerned.

After driving him through the fog (oh my god Seattle, with the fogginess! It's enough to make me wear my Foghat!) and back home, BioGirl came over and proceeded to be confounded by my toaster/microwave combo appliance. We narrowly escaped a waffle incident, but it all turned out ok and we settled in to watch the festivities.

I have quite a few friends that attended the Inauguration in person. And you know what? I was convinced-- CONVINCED!-- that I was going to spot one of them in the crowd shots on CNN. I blame Alli's mom for this. Ever since I watched the 1996 Democratic Convention when I saw Mrs. Alli's Mom dancing the Macarena on the convention floor, I am sure I am going to see people I know in crowd shots on tv. Alas, it didn't happen this time. Still, friends, I was thinking of you. It looked COLD. And I didn't see where they could fit enough port-a-potties in that mix either. I am still waiting to hear from a lot of them and I fear that the communication silence is due to some horrible lack of Pee Booths incident. How that would cause someone to go missing, I haven't really thought through.

So the coverage. First of all, the entrances. It was like a debutante ball, wasn't it? All the dignitaries walking in and finding their seats, blahdiddy blah blah. I must be getting old because I kept looking at the politicians and thinking that they looked older than I remember. George Bush Sr? ANCIENT! I remember when he was kicking up his heels and puking on the Japanese prime minister. Ah, how time passes. On the other hand, Jimmy Carter looks spry. And when do you really have a chance to use the word "spry?" But that's what he looked like. He shoulda rubbed it in everyone else's face a little, is what I think. Dontcha wish your girlfriend was SPRY LIKE ME? And jeez louise could Cheney look any more sinister? It's like he practices looking sinister in the mirror. Instead of Tyra-style smiling with his eyes, he seems to drip scariness. That sounded gross. But then again, he kind of is gross. Then W comes in and is it just me or does he always look super duper confused? It's like he doesn't seem to know where he even is. And to change the subject to something more awesome, god bless Aretha Franklin and her milliner, whoever that may be. You know you were thinking that too. The Clintons looked nice. Oh, and the Obama daughters? Clearly are on a strict diet of Cute Juice, because sheesh. The cuteness kind of smacks you in the face a little. Michelle Obama also kind of knocks me out each time I look at her. Do you think she had fleece lining inside that dress? Because she didn't look cold, but she must have been right?

Then, Obama comes in. Could he have looked any more calm and collected? That dude is one cool customer. Perhaps inside his head he was all "ohmygodohmygodohmygod." Because wow. Talk about pressure.

Then Rick Warren spoke. Phooey on you-ey, Rick.

That song that Yo Yo Ma and Company played was really sad sounding. Me and BioGirl got all teary listening to it, in a sort of sad way. Did I mention that I am a big ass crybaby these days?

Then Chief Justice Roberts (who I can't help but think of as Dread Pirate Roberts), screwed up the oath. Talk about a whoopsie. Listen, it could have been worse. He could have accidentally said "fuckface" or something, which is a fear that I have. That I will accidentally say "fuckface" or the like at the wrong moment.

Then the speech was made. And I choked up again. WHAT THE FUCK.

And then the poem, and the final prayer, and putting Bush in his helicopter, and the parade, and the balls. I laughed every time Anderson Cooper said "each of the balls," I am not ashamed to admit this.

Plus, tonight I get to watch it all over again when Nordic Boy gets home from his trip, since he missed the whole dang thing because he was on the road. I'm sure I will be a crying freak the second time around too.



I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Happy Birthday Butchlaroy

Hello internets! I'm glad that you traveled through a series of tubes to come see me.

Today is a lovely day, you want to know why? It's the day that Nordic Boy was borned. Which, to me, is a highly important day, since if that hadn't happened things around here would be totally different in a not good sort of way.

What is there to say about Nordic Boy? So many things. Let's limit to 5.

1. Nordic Boy is like Mr. Ed, who only ever spoke to Wilbur. Or Snuffleupagus, back when only Big Bird could see him. When you first meet him, he is friendly, understated, introspective, kind of serious, and an intense listener. If you stay acquaintances with him, he will continue to be all of those things. But once he has truly befriended you, this whole other side opens up. He is, it turns out, the silliest mothereffer you would ever want to meet. To the outsider's eye, I am the zany one in this pair. But little do you know, people. I learn it all from him. Once he starts doing Supermodel impressions for you (BioGirl and Neighbor J, remember his Kathy Ireland?) you know you are truly in the circle.

2. When he was born, his mom almost named him Butchlaroy. That is pronounced like this: Butch La Roy. But spelled all as one word. Not Leroy, mind you. Laroy. Lah. Roy. I love his mom to death but I am convinced there was some sort of crack pipe involved in this story. Because really. What the hell is that? I am convinced that had that been his name, he would have grown into a very different sort of guy. God bless whatever part of her brain decided that it was a bad idea. Am I right or am I right?

3. Nordic Boy likes to put an s on proper nouns that do not have an s on the end. Like George Michaels. Or Dukes of Hazzards.

4. Nordic Boy is an awesome dancer. He is also a dancer that only dances in front of a select few people. Again, it's very Mr. Ed. He likes to make up dances, with names to go along with them. My two favorites are called "Butt Bongos" and "The Bowling Ball." I will leave you with those names and let you conjure up your own images.

5. Nordic Boy is awesome about going with me on things. Like, if I all of a sudden bust out with "YOU ARE THE SUN! YOU ARE THE RAIN! THAT MAKES MY LIFE A FOOLISH GAME!" he will not even react in any other way other than to say "YOU NEED TO KNOW! I LOVE YOU SO! AND I'D DO IT ALL AGAIN AND AGAIN!" It doesn't matter what kind of mood he is in, or I am in, or what we are doing, or even if we are in the same room. If I initiate acting like a nutjob, he will go with it. I believe this to be a pillar of our relationship.

Happy birthday to Nordic Boy. When it comes to him, I do indeed quote Lionel Ritchie. You need to know! I love you so! And I'd do it all again and again. Whoa. Whoa. Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Mr. Bentley was TOO on Sesame Street

I have become the once-a-week-if-I'm-lucky blog lady. Whassup with that? I'll try to get it back up to two times a week, as in the glory days of yore. All you daily bloggers out there, dang. You are wondrous to behold.

So let's see, what's going on with me. Shall I list? Let's list.

1. The crazy days of snow have abated and Seattle is back to cold, cold rain and gray skies aplenty, as Jeebus intended. That's ok though because my entire life is now revolving around watching Deadwood dvds. How come nobody told me about this show? Huh? I count on you to tell me these things. I'm not going to go so far as to recommend the show, because you know, it's not for everyone. But if you are like me and enjoy good writing with a lot of creative cussing bandied about, you should watch it. This is with the caveat that it's basically a show all about filth, so be prepared for that. Those effers are naaaaasty. And I love them.

2. Are you all going to the inauguration? I feel like the whole world is going except for me. All I hear from my Facebook friends is who is going and where are they staying and when should we all meet up and la la la. On the one hand, I tell myself that being in the middle of that many people is bound to be a clusterfuck with not enough port-a-potties. On the other hand, it would be kind of cool to be there. The fear of not enough port-a-potties is enough to keep me away though. I can be flexible in many respects, but I like to know that people around me will have access to their number one-ing and two-ing in an orderly fashion. Call me crazy.

3. Am I the only one who listens/reads economic news and laughs every time someone says the phrase "ponzi scheme?" Because the word ponzi? Come on! It's like Arthur Fonzerelli and Warren Weber had a baby together. Fonzie and Potsie hybridized. Into PONZI. Am I the only person who is thinking this? Am I?

Ok, so maybe I am.

4. This happens to me a lot, this whole no one understanding why ponzi schemes sound funny. My pop culture references never seem to go anywhere with people. You ever feel that way? Like this one time, BioGirl took me to a party when she lived in California. It was at her boss's house. Her boss was a Bonafide Big Shot. And in the middle of this party, someone made some comment about how annoying it was to make air quotes whilst talking. And I said something along the lines of "ha ha, that reminds me of that Chris Farley thing on SNL where he does air quotes so much that he starts flying away. Like his air quote fingers are wings." And the whole party stopped talking to each other to stare at me. And so I began to overexplain the Chris Farley air quotes. And maybe act it out a little. Or maybe a lot. And no one knew what the hell I was talking about. And there was lots of silence, and looking at me, and me not shutting up.

5. In fact, this same thing happened to me this weekend. People were talking about spectactular falling (the likes of which was seen on New Year's Eve) and I brought up how on old skool Sesame Street, there was that falling chef guy, who would do that thing where he stood at the top of the stairs with a pyramid of some sort of baked goods on a tray and then fall down the stairs with the whole thing. This then triggered that memory of Sesame Street when Mr. Bentley from the Jeffersons would go around painting numbers on things where he wasn't supposed to. Like, a guerrilla graffiti artist. Once again, everyone looked at me like I was wearing underwear on the outside of my pants. DOES ANYONE ELSE REMEMBER MR. BENTLEY ON SESAME STREET? ANYONE?

6. It's hard to live in my head sometimes. Also, it's hard for me to remember to keep my mouth shut when I want to talk about things like Mr. Bentley on Sesame Street.

7. This list isn't really a list any more is it? It's more like me randomly numbering my insane thoughts.

8. Sit on it, Ponzie.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Our New Year is Old

Happy New Year everyone!

I know, it's kind of late for that. But I have realized that for the past month or so, I have been late. No, not that kind of late. Not lady business late- bite your tongue. I am just about a week late with everything that is going on. I have managed to meet all deadlines pretty well, but only with an overwhelming sense of "wait, WHAT?" as I am crossing those finish lines. It all started on Thanksgiving. And I have been cruising by on a 5-7 day mental delay ever since. So to me, it seems like the new year right about now.

What did you all do on your new year's? You probably already told me, but I am about a week behind on checking in on blogland. Here's what I did. On New Year's Eve, I worked. And by that time, I had just limped to the end of a week of very snowy days. I shall not bore you with why snowy days in Seattle result in extra long work days for library folk, but suffice it to say that I had worked a week where the hours, they were looooong. I did nothing but work for a week there, and I know some people live their whole lives doing nothing but work, and have no kind of downtime or fun or seeing of loved ones whatsoever, but that just ain't me so that week was way weird. And then New Years Eve rolled around and there I was, still at work. The whole thing made me want to say GOOMBYE TWO FOUSAND EIGHT as quick as humanly possible so that I could have a fresh new year with which to remember what Nordic Boy's face looked like, I hadn't seen it in so long.

On the last eve of '08 the snow had let up which meant that I was free to leave work at a reasonable hour and not think about it for the rest of the night. YEE HAW. Nordic Boy and I met up with BioGirl and Borgsmith at the Borgsmith homestead, where we proceeded to act like big old fogies. Here's how.

First of all, Nordic Boy and I had gotten up that morning before the crack of ass and had been running non-stop until the moment we hit the deck at Borgsmith's house. That meant that we arrived tired. Like, yeah, we are ready to party, as long as the party can be in a sitting down position. Staying upright was just about the most we could do.

But you know what? We were just thinking about not staying upright. Little did we know that one in our midst was going to not just THINK IT. She was going to BE IT. See, it all started because I needed a coaster. And the ones right there on the table were already in use. So BioGirl runs upstairs to get me another coaster. And on the way back, she decided to fall down the stairs. Like, fall on her ass and slide all the way down the stairs in the loudest, scariest-sounding manner possible. CRASH BOOM CRASH OOF BANG. As the rest of us stood up in alarm and looked toward the stairwell, all we saw was the requested coaster, doing a perfect roll right toward me.

We all rushed over. BioGirl was fine. Well, she actually was hurting due to the smacking of her ass on all the stairs, but she took it like a champ.

All I did was ask for a coaster, and that girl sure busted her ass for me trying to get one.

Get it? She busted her ass, as in she tried really hard, but then she literally busted her ass. See what I did there? Ha ha! For droll acquaintance be forgot!

Anyhow. To recap. So far, the ingredients that indicate a Grandmaw Style party are:

Arriving at 7 pm already ready for bed.
Being very concerned about having a proper coaster.
Running around the house to fulfill coaster needs.
Almost breaking a hip falling down a flight of stairs.

And then, do you know what the Grandmaw Style Party Handbook says one should do once someone has almost broken their neck while coaster hunting? DO YOU?

You spend the next few hours talking about every injury and ailment you have ever had in your mothersucking life.

I'm serious. This is what we did. We talked about the time someone broke a bone as a child, and the time someone almost got run over by a car, and the time someone got stitches. How many stitches? How much blood was there? Did you almost die? Ooh, that reminds me of the time I fell out of a two story window! Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I projectile vomited across two rooms!? FOR HOURS. We didn't talk about bowel movements, but it was this close to going there.

After all the war stories were told, we attempted to play a board game. Which at that point was almost incoherent because the sleepy sauce was hitting us hard. And then at about ten minutes to midnight, we turned on the tv to watch the ball drop. Well, first we watched an incredibly awkward few moments of Ryan Seacrest welcoming us to Times Square while Taylor Swift and that Joe Jonas kid tried to stand as far away from each other as possible to as not to get break-up cooties from each other and Kellie Pickler mesmerized us with her glowing white eye shadow. Then the ball dropped.

We all sat on the couch as the seconds ticked down to midnight, our drinks in hand, ready to clink. Happy New Year! Nordic Boy and I smooched. Borgsmith and BioGirl smooched. We clinked glasses. Then I turned to stand up to give BioGirl and Borgsmith a hug each. Which they received graciously in Grandmaw fashion, by chiming in, along with Nordic Boy, in the following manner.

"Oh my god, she's standing up for hugs. So, we're all getting up? Ok, we're all getting up. Oh my god I'm so tired. What the hell, Librarian Girl? Who asked you to get up?"

Happy New Year, everyone.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl