Questions of the Day

I think it may be official that Nordic Boy and I are the only two people on planet earth that did not like the Star Trek movie. What is wrong with us? We wanted, I think, something to discuss. Like, isn't that what sci-fi is for? To offer an allegory that you can geek out over and talk about afterward? Or is it just to watch ships fly around and blow stuff up? Maybe that's our misunderstanding.

After we saw the movie, it was crickets. I tried to think of something to say about it, but really? There was nothing. Listen, I am not opposed to mind candy, let's be clear about that. I have watched that Tori and Dean show, so let's just get that out of the way up front. But that movie was just cowboys in space as far as I could see, which is ok, but that's just going in one ear and out the other (or in a film's case, would that be in one eye and out the other?). I mean, if you're going to just put characters in space for adventure's sake, then I would prefer Captian Link Hogthrob, to be honest.

If I am wrong about this, please enlighten me. Seriously, because I feel like I am missing something.

After my long weekend of blissful nothingness, I am kind of flailing around this week in a sort of daze. What? I have to work? And pay bills? And act grown up? It's very unsettling, and convinces me even more that my true calling is to be an independently wealthy eccentric. I have visions of Nordic Boy and I wearing crazy hats and biking to the opera on a tandem bicycle for the evening.

What's up with dress shorts, people? I implore you. Is there ever a reason for them? I am open to be convinced on the dress short phenomenon, but to be honest I can't get behind them thus far. Maybe it's because I wore a pair of dress shorts in one of my senior photos in high school and I realize how frickin' doofy they look now. What are we thinking about dress shorts? Yea or nay? I vote nay.

Another thing I need your opinion on, is hugging at work. Are we for this? See, I saw someone hug another someone and I would bet one hundred grillion dollars that the huggie was totally repulsed by what was happening. But that didn't stop the hugger. I was really embarrassed by the whole thing. Just witnessing it was awkward. But then, the other day, a co-worker of mine told me something really great, and I really wanted to hug her about it. So I went in for the hug, but in the moments where I was traveling toward her in a mid-hug-ambush, I remembered the unwanted hug advance that I had witnessed last week, and I was horrified that I might be doing this very thing to another unsuspecting person who is just trying to get through their day without colleague-squeezing, but then I felt like I couldn't NOT hug the person, because it was clear to all that I was in mid-hug motion and to stop in the middle would be even more rude, so then before I could stop myself I opened my mouth and said "I'm totally going to hug you right now" and that made it worse, didn't it? There's nothing like emphasizing an awkward gesture like articulating it out loud on top of the whole thing, is there?

Why do I always have trouble hugging? This is how I got myself into the face-press debacle of '08.

Librarian Girl

Lady of Leisure

Let me start out all Life Coachy and ask you something. How often are you apologizing for stuff? And if you are apologizing for a lot, like let's say...oh, um, EVERY TIME YOU TALK TO ME...then, what does that say? That maybe you should stop apologizing and just stop doing the shit that makes you have to apologize in the first place? Or maybe possibly you are not in the least sorry or else you wouldn't keep doing that over and over again and apologizing ad nauseum? Am I right?

Or maybe I should stop being such a fuckwit for still talking to someone who always does stuff that needs apologies for it afterward? Which, yeah. You got me.

ANYHOO.

When I was a kid, there were days in the summer that I think back on as "at home days." They didn't happen with me very often because I was mostly busy with dance and stuff, but every once in a while I would have an awesome little kid day where I had nothing to do. I would stay home and do things like take a shower, get dressed in shorts and a tank top and sit out on my back porch and let the sun dry my hair. And I would lie in the grass in the back yard and pop the heads off of dandelions. If it got too hot, I would eat an ice cream sandwich. If I wanted to read for hours straight, I kicked back and did it. Sometimes, as a teen, my friends would show up and I'd hop in the car and we'd go to the store to get a slurpee, just for something to do, and even that would have a meandering quality about it. A whole day of nothing to do and nowhere to go and the day seeming 92 hours long and loving the whole thing TO DEATH.

I can't remember the last time I had such a day. Even on days that are plan-free, I still end up thinking of shit I need to do, like grocery shop or run to the bank or the post office or return emails or phone calls or fold my laundry or something like that. You'd think I was a grown up or something, the way I can act sometimes.

This weekend, though? I had a meandering day. THREE TIMES.

I slept well and then got up when I wanted to get up.
I opened the windows and read a book in the sunlight for three hours straight.
We sat on our front stoop and ate watermelon.
I sat on my front porch and read Bitch magazine cover to cover.
I wore a sundress and no shoes and pulled weeds in my yard.
We went to a movie.
I had potato salad.
Ok, so I had potato salad, and cole slaw, and macaroni salad.
We barbecued and then snuggled up later that night and Nordic Boy's hair smelled like summer smoke.
We went to brunch with our pals and then for a long walk afterward in no particular direction.
We talked and talked, about nothing. Our favorite topic.
We also didn't talk. Our second favorite topic.
I stared off into nothingness a whole hell of a lot.
I didn't wear a coat ONE TIME.
I didn't think about work, or responsibilities, or mortality. These are all things that I think about way too much, usually. I am so perky that way.
I sang "Simply the Best," full out, without any irony at all, with open windows, probably scaring the neighbors.
I dug out old videos that Nordic Boy and I had made over the years (not THOSE KIND, shut up) and watched them and was all awonder at our baby faces.
I put my face into some lilacs and smelled them up.
I watched bees buzzing.
I drew nonsensical drawings.
I painted my toes.
We went to a bookstore and sat there and read until they closed.
We walked to the local hardware store and back, with ice cream sandwiches.

Seriously, people. Why have I not been doing more of this? I LOVE IT.

Some photagerie:


Closing down the bookstore.


The view from the stoop down to my sidewalk.


At the hardware store, I discovered the "duck crack weeder." And laughed maniacally and took photos of it. Because I am classy.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

That's THREE

That's right, kids. Three posts in one week. I figure if I can't deliver quality then quantity is the next best thing.

My neck is still a little tweaked, thanks for asking. Nordic Boy has taken to calling me "Crinky" on account of my crinked up neck. I think that we should have a little kids' show starring two characters based on us, called the "Crinky and Cracker Show." (I call him a cracker sometimes, it's true. The love, it flows around here). Only I think the Crinky and Cracker Show might have a wee bit too much cussing in it, which I suppose is not ok by, you know, community social graces and everything. Although I grew up around a whole lot of cussing and so did Nordic Boy and we turned out ok didn't we? I said, DIDN'T WE?

So my most favoritest favorite show out of all the shows on all the channels is starting up a new season. That's right. So You Think You Can Dance is BACK. I can't really explain to you how much I adore, I love, I yearn for, this show. I watch it, and tivo it, and watch it again. Do you, any of my blog friends, watch? Because I must tell you that the only thing that is sad to me about the return of my favorite show is that no one I know gives a rooster's balls about it. It is such a watch-with-a-friend sort of show, and I have no one. No one! It's so sad. I watch by myself and talk to the screen as if there is someone else there, commentating all about which dances are the best, which dancers I think are doing each other, is Dan Karaty really 3 feet tall because he looks like it, and what Wade Robson is stoned on. Doesn't that sound like a fun night to you? Don't you want to come over and have a SYTYCD watch party with me?

Ah, whatever. I never said I was cool or anything, so you can't hold me to saying cool things.

We saw something really freaky last night. We came around this corner and we saw, in the middle of the street, a car that had spun out and a munched-up scooter and a woman (former scooter-driver) lying in the street. We whipped out our cell phones to call for help (which about 20 different other people were doing too, so I don't know how helpful it really was). It was so strange because she just looked so normal there, as if she was taking a nap in the street. No obvious cuts or broken limbs or anything. There were lots of people running toward her in an attempt to help and it was SO FREAKY. It was strange because there were so many people around, and after a few minutes, Nordic Boy and I sort of looked around and we were both torn about what to do. It seemed like an appropriate show of concern to stand there and send "please let her be ok" thoughts out. But on the other hand, we weren't really DOING anything so there was a part of us that was like, are we being icky crash-watchers? Finally, we left. I hope she's ok. Would you have stayed? I don't know. Is it gross that I'm talking about accident-ettiquette like it's frickin Emily Post or something? Ack.

I'm going to change the subject now.

Did I mention that I am about to embark upon a three day weekend? I have been so excited about it that each morning since Wednesday I have shouted out "It's FRIDAY!" when the alarm goes off. Finally, today, I was right! Plus, it's supposed to be sunny and in the 70s all weekend! I have nothing clever to say about this! It's delicious all on it's own, without added snark! As an added bonus, Nordic Boy and I have no solid plans! It's all loosey-goosey, what-do-you-want-to-do-I-don't-know-what-do-you-want-to-do style.

What do you have going on this weekend? What do you think we should do?

Librarian Girl

Pre-stupid

Four things of little to no consequence for you today.

1. Last night, Nordic Boy was rinsing off a pear. As he did so, he busted out the "Greatest American Hero" theme song, like this: "Believe it or not! I'm washing a pear, I never thought it could be so gree-ee-een!" That's still cracking me up today.

2. Here's a photo from my weekend. Try to imagine the gorgeousness I was trying to capture, because I am clearly no Margaret Bourke-White.

Please be aware that I did snapped this photo while in the passenger seat. I am not one of those crackpots who takes pictures, eats a bowl of cereal, and applies mascara while driving.

3. I was at Kinko's last week, and while I was waiting, I browsed the book display. What is the deal with the Kinko's book display? Why do Kinko's shoppers need so much self help?


My favorite on this display is "NEVER BE LIED TO AGAIN." This implies that by reading this book, you not only will be improving yourself, but you will also be improving those around you. People will not be able to lie to you anymore! Maybe the Wonder Woman lasso comes inside the book?

4. Here's an envelope from a piece of junk mail I received.


Really? We are moving from "pre-approved" to "pre-forgiven?" So like, I have YET TO TRANSGRESS against the junk mail people, but they have already forgiven me for that which has not yet happened? Well guess what? I am pre-unrepentant. So kiss that.

Librarian Girl

Pain in the Neck

So this weekend was in the 70s, sunshine abounding, calm breezes aplenty, making the skyscrapers in my city sparkle and the mountain peaks in the distance glisten white. There really isn't anything like this place when it's not frickin' raining. It really is prettiness all over.

That sounds nice, doesn't it? Then there was also this. I slept on my neck wrong on Thursday night and pretty much couldn't move by Saturday night because of it. My overarching thought on this development is that GETTING OLD SUCKS PIG ASS.

Despite this, the weekend didn't turn out all bad. I had a day off work on Friday and spent the morning being Turbo-Errand-Lady. Can I just tell you that I bank at way too many banks? I don't know how this happened but I have accounts at three different banks. I mean, I know financial diversification is good and all but really, that's just dumb. Especially considering how little fundage I actually have in said three banks. One of the banks I bank at (if a woodchuck could bank wood) is so clingy, it sort of scares me. Every time I go in there (which I must admit is not that often), the tellers are trying to sell me something in the most hard core way. "Can I interest you in a gold checking account? Have you considered re-financing? Are you in the market for a new credit card with bonus points and a reward system? Do you need a money market savings? Would you care to make out? Because I would totally make out with any of our customers. I am desperate for you to have a serious relationship with this bank. Please. I need every last piece of you. Please."

You know how everyone is talking about restoring confidence in the banking system? This behavior does not restore my confidence. It's so clingy. So desperate. Banks need to start being all "what? who are you? I think I saw you at that party the other night. You're kind of cute. But whatever." Then, like, EVERYONE will want to be with them.

I'm sorry, I think I just snapped out of a reverie in which the bank and I were starring in a John Hughes movie. Ex-you-zay mwah.

After that Hopscotch and I went out to lunch where we saw this businessman dude with the most Prominent Bangs Ever. They were gelled into sort of a curtain of bangs. Like The Donald took a flat iron to his bangs or something. We sort of looked at him for a minute, basking in the horror of the bangs. I'm pretty sure he thought we were yearning for him in a librarians-bangs-sandwich sort of way.

We also took a walk along Lake Washington. Which was pure gorgeousness. This was followed by a smoothie (first warm weather smoothie of the year!) and then I went home and said "ow" every time I tried to turn my neck. So that was nice.

Saturday, I worked, which was really fun considering that by this time I could only walk around in a robot-like fashion and I was seriously considering going out somewhere and buying one of those neck doughnut things. Instead I went home and took some advil and a nap, which really didn't do jack.

That night, my friends came over to play the dumbest board game ever, which in case you didn't know, is The Newlywed Game. It's one of those things where it's so bad that it turns a corner somewhere and starts to be good again. But that just may be because my friends are hilarious, in that one of them commits to a Bob Eubanks voice for the entire game (which, trust me, does not get old) when reading the questions, and another one started every answer of every question by earnestly saying "this question was a hard one for me, Bob, but I'm going to have to say..." Earnestness is key during the Newlywed Game. Other tips for playing the game include mumbling "divorce!" every time your partner's answer doesn't match yours (hi Hopscotch), and collectively deciphering the questions that are written with way too many pronouns. Like "What would your wife say you think about her thoughts about your appetite when it comes to her cooking?"

You are probably thinking to yourself that Nordic Boy and I don't technically qualify as "newlyweds," but shut up. They don't make a "Decrepit Couple" game.

After all that frivolity I woke up on Sunday and really couldn't move my neck. Really really. It was so not cool. So I spent the day indoors (another sunny, gorgeous day, of course), which sucked. I went outside a couple of times to sit on my front steps and talk on the phone for a bit, but that was it.

Good news is, I am pretty much back to normal today. Well, my neck is normal. Me being normal is a whole other chihuahua.

Librarian Girl

Boss Man

Someone laid a turd outside of the staff door of the library the other day. I wish that was a metaphor.

Let's change the subject now, kay?

So for the past week or so, Nordic Boy came into contact with something that he is clearly allergic to. His arms broke out in hives, which at first we thought was maybe stress-related (it's been fun times for him at the salary-dispersal-establishment lately), but he has never really had that happen before so we couldn't be sure. When it first happened he went to his doctor who said that it was more likely an allergic reaction but not to worry, it will clear itself up soon. The doctor was generally wishy-washy and kind of dismissive of the level of misery that Nordic Boy had and minimized what Nordic Boy was saying. Nordic Boy tried to tell him that yes, in the grand scheme of things, it was probably a minor issue, but that he was having a horrible time dealing with it. He hasn't been able to sleep, or do anything without constantly being driven insane by the hives. Now here we are, a couple of weeks later, and the misery has continued this whole time. It's been terrible, really. So yesterday we went back to the doctor.

This is where I must interject that for all his mild-mannered-ness, Nordic Boy, when needed, can be straight up BOSSY. I find this very funny because I am never the target of the bossiness. So to me, it's like his outbursts of bossy are a spectator sport. The bossy comes mainly from his line of work, where he deals with high pressure safety issues and expensive equipment and stuff, so sometimes there is no room for diplomacy. He has to bark out orders to people, to be safe. This is so unlike how he is with me that I find it supremely giggleworthy. There are times when someone will call him from work and I just sit there and listen to his side of the conversation for fun, because all of a sudden Bossy-Britches will come out and he'll start to say something like: "NO. Stop doing that. RIGHT NOW. Have you stopped? I need you to listen to me. Stop doing that. Ok. Do this: release the air pressure from the hinky-valve until you see the tetra-gauge go down to 4.8 and then tighten it up. Don't do anything else. I do not want to come in on Monday and see that you have done anything else. I MEAN IT."

I mean, wow. He's the sweetest, you guys. Really. The sweetest person you will ever meet. But when he has his Bossy Voice going, it is kind of intimidating. And funny.

There are times when the Bossy Voice will come out at kind of random times. Most of the time it's actually kind of helpful. It's weird how people will just sort of listen to someone if they have a Very Authoritative Voice and Manner. I have been in situations with him where like, a friend of ours is moving or something, and all of a sudden Nordic Boy will bust out with assignments. He's never mean about it. He never yells or seems stressed out himself or anything. He is very calm, but it's just...this tone he gets. Very rapid-fire, where you don't really have time to think or argue back. It'll be all "ok. So Librarian Girl, you feel like moving the boxes of books? Great. Looks like we need someone to help me with this couch. Neighbor B, can you do that? Awesome. BioGirl why don't you go ahead and start bringing the kitchen stuff to the movie truck. Neighbor J will continue labeling boxes." And EVERYONE JUST DOES IT. Happily. It's weird. It's a Bossy Voice, but more importantly, it's a Non-Assholey Bossy Voice. It makes people ok with being bossed. Pleased about it, even.

Anyway, so back to the hives. We went to the doctor's office yesterday. And you know how a lot doctors can be. It's intimidating to be there, and they have seen you naked before, or at the very least in one of those tissue gowns that show your ass, and they can make you feel kind of vulnerable. I have had pretty good doctors in my life (well, except for the one who told me I was old), but still, I hate going to the doctor. It just feels sort of powerless and they can seem overpowering with all their medicalness.

But yesterday? You know what happened? Nordic Boy BOSSED THE DOCTOR.

Dudes, it was so funny, I wish you could have been there. I can't adequately describe it. The doctor was all "ok, so the reaction didn't go away? Hmm. Well, how much discomfort are you having, really?" and before he could go on with minimizing Nordic Boy's troubles, Nordic Boy just went like this. "Ok, so here's what we're going to do. We're going to figure out what is going on with these hives and we are going to come up with a plan of action to make them go away. Right now."

I'm not kidding. HE TOTALLY SAID THAT.

And of course, it worked. The doctor went right along with it and got serious about figuring this shit out. It was like he SNAPPED INTO ACTION. He asked Nordic Boy a bunch of questions, spent some time, took it seriously. And by the end of it, we had an actual diagnosis and plan for treatment.

You know what Nordic Boy said then?

"That sounds really great, thank you. Now we need to make sure that this is the best course of action. So you need to find another doctor in this building who has a moment to come in and give me a second opinion. Right now. I'll wait."

DUDES. It was like the doctor was hypnotized, because he did not hesitate to do what he was told. He cheerfully went and found another doctor to come in and re-have the whole talk with Nordic Boy and come up with a second opinion. Which was slightly different so then the three of them talked it through and a slightly modified plan of treatment was reached.

ALL DUE TO THE NON-ASSHOLEY BOSSY VOICE.

I really need to practice a non-assholey bossy voice, people. I am convinced I could rule the world if I could do that.

And also, a sidenote to Nordic Boy: so yeah, I just discussed your hivey arm-rash with the entirety of blogland. You're welcome.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Really, I don't drink much

Another successful weekend in the can, homies.

Friday night Boy De La Nordic and I went to join some friends of ours for trivia and karaoke at a fine drinking establishment in our fair city. Truth be told, I am not much of a drinker. Why would I drink in order to feel loopy and make an ass of myself when I can do that just fine sober?

Exhibit A:
During trivia, I could be counted on for every last correct answer to any question that only a 15-year-old might know. And by 15-year-old, I mean a HIGHLY UNCOOL FIFTEEN YEAR OLD. If you play 4 measures of guitar music and ask what artist might have recorded that snippet, and you need someone to yell out "MAROON FIVE!" then you need to invite me out with you to trivia. If you need me to identify historical or scientific facts that a highly educated adult should know though, then don't call me.

Exhibit B:
If you don't want to be embarrassed by a thirty-something librarian wearing an Oscar the Grouch t-shirt getting up and singing a heartfelt rendition of "Papa Don't Preach" by Madonna in front of a group of friends and strangers, then also, do not call me.

Here's the thing about the Papa Don't Preach moment that I was having, people. I got up there, and sang it, and it was so horrible that the noisy bar actually got a little bit quiet as they watched me. And as much as I was punching those lyrics ("PPPapa don't PPPreach..."), the truth was that I was HOLDING BACK. The full on belting out was not even close to happening. Which, if you were there, should scare you a little.

Exhibit C:
Seriously, I don't drink much at all. Yet, I take photos that look like this.



Come to think of it, maybe I should start sloshing it up. Maybe that will make me more presentable in public or something.

Saturday morning, we went out to brunch with BioGirl, Borgsmith, and BioGirl's mom. BioMom is the keeper of all stories embarrassing and awkward when it comes to BioGirl, which for us, is sort of awesome, but for BioGirl, is excruciating I am sure. My parents don't really play this sort of role in my life, so I find it kind of fascinating. I know I did all sorts of Very Embarrassing Things growing up, but my moms and pops wouldn't dream of divulging. The only people in my life that can play this role for me would be Alli and Map. And they have. There have been times when I introduce them to my other friends and I just sit there and WAIT FOR THE BOMB TO DROP. And it always does. Like the time Alli told all of my friends that she and I almost had an out-of-body experience watching FIELD OF FRIGGIN DREAMS starring Kevin Costner when we were in high school. Like, we thought that movie was talking to us. Personally. Oh, it's a long story, never mind. Just even saying that much is horrifying. So BioGirl, if you're reading this, I may not get your parental pain, but I get it on some level. Sorry to laugh at you that way. But not sorry enough to stop.

Saturday night Nordic Boy and I went to see a play. And although the play was good and I could certainly tell you about that, I would rather gripe about some bad manners I saw post-play. Here's what happened. The actors sang and acted their hearts out for us for over two hours, and did a smash-up job at it too, and when the lights went down on the last scene of the night, you know how they were repaid? By about 100 or so members of the audience GETTING UP AND WALKING OUT. I mean, most of the audience stayed and clapped, like, you know, human beings are supposed to. But a lot of them didn't. And it wasn't like they were leaving because the show was bad. It wasn't! It was great. And the way that they were leaving wasn't in a huffy "that sucked, dudes," sort of way either. It was more like they just were leaving because, hey, they just wanted to go now.

I was APPALLED by this. Totally, completely, appalled. As I clapped, I kept having Stephanie Tanner moments by turning to Nordic Boy and saying "how rude!" This is Seattle, which some argue to be the third best theater town in the country (dang New York and Chicago, always showing us up). I expect more from Seattle audiences. They should know better.

So, on the off chance that you are one of the people that was at the Fifth Avenue Theater on Saturday night and you left the show without so much as a single clap? I have many things to say to you, among them:

1. Have you ever been in a professional theater production? Or any type of theater production? Do you think that shit is easy? IT ISN'T.
2. This isn't a movie theater you know. Those actors up there? They can SEE YOUR ASS as you turn your back on them while they are trying to take one measly bow, you know.
3. Also, just FUCKING APPLAUD, MOTHERSUCKERS.

I am still appalled. Can you tell?

On Sunday, we had a jam-packed day where we both went for a run in the morning, followed by grocery shopping, followed by mom-calling, followed by lunch-making, followed by home improvement-doing (him) and painting (me), followed by laundry-doing, followed by ice cream eating with Hopscotch, followed by dinner-making, followed by bill-paying, followed by falling asleep by 10:30 pm.

I love weekends.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Voicing my concern

This happened last week.

I came home from work, and Nordic Boy was unusually low key. No dancing, no "we're both home!" celebrations. He was sitting in his chair and reading. I got my computer and started surfing (do people still say surfing? I don't know. It sounds dated).

After a few minutes, I looked over at him and wondered if perhaps he had had a really horrible day or something. Had he had to fire someone? Had he gotten fired? What was going on? So I gently said, in a small, serious voice, something like: "sweetie, are you ok?"

Dudes, he just about busted a nut laughing. Like I had just told him the funniest thing known to man! Holding his stomach. Crying with glee! Unable to speak!

"What did I say?" I kept saying, starting to laugh in that contagious way when someone else is totally losing their shit laughing. "What is SO FUNNY?"

"Oh my gahhhhhhd! Hahahaahaaahaaaaaaaa! Ohh! Jeeeeez! Hahahhaaaaa!" He got up and walked around with laughter. He gasped for air. He pounded the wall. We laugh a lot in our house, but this? This was BEYOND HYSTERICAL. I was so confused!

As the laughter started to die down a little, he managed to squeak out, "why would you say that to me? That is such a weird thing to say!!"

Me: What? Why is it weird? You were just sitting there all silent! I just asked if you were ok!

Him: No!!! Haaahaaaahaaaaa. You didn't! HAAA. You didn't say "are you ok" hahaaa...

Me: I didn't? What did I say?

Him: You said "Sweetie, did someone do something to you?" ha haaaaaaa! Why would you say it like that??? haa haaaa! That is so weird!

Me: (starting to laugh) That IS weird. Did I really say that? I think I did! I did say that!

Him: It's like you think that someone at work today touched me in my no-no place!

Me: It does sound like that!

Him: "Sweetie, did someone DO SOMETHING TO YOU?" Really??? What the hell kind of thing is that to say?

Me: Well, you know how, when a little kid has been beat up at school, they don't come home and tell you about it. They come home and go sit in the corner, all withdrawn. You know? And that's what you looked like, I guess. I guess that's why I said it.

But really people. I don't know why I said it. It really is a weird thing to say to a grown person after a long day at work. I'm so strange.

But I got a good laugh out of him with my strangeness. So that's something.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Twitter is freaking me out now

I am sooooo sleepy.

Have I ever told you that sometimes, I just don't sleep? Usually it's just for a day or two, and then I'm ok again, but every once in a while I go for days where I only sleep for 3 or 4 hours a night. I am currently on day 4 of very limited sleep. So if I all of a sudden start typing ahipaetbj[ate-ahipe or something, you will know that I somehow fell face forward onto my keyboard (and clicked "publish" in my sleep). Which, pretty much, wouldn't really be a decline in the quality of the writing here so who cares. I am supposed to go see some friends' band play tonight, but their set starts at 9:45 and I don't know if I am going to make it, fellas. How pathetic is that? I don't know, maybe I will drag myself out, but it's not looking promising. All I can really think about is making sweet love to the Sandman.

I am not a technophobe, you know (wow, hello, defensive-sounding non-sequitur). I handle my way around the new fangled teknologeez pretty ok. But I have to let you in on a secret. That Twitter feed on the sidebar there? Currently shows a link to my most recent activity on Goodreads. And I have no idea how that happened, because I don't remember setting up that linkage. When I update Goodreads, how did Twitter know? I know that you are thinking that I probably linked the two and I just don't remember doing it, but really. I don't think I did that. Because I have been trying to keep my Goodreads account out of bloggyland because it was getting too work-related. My only recourse is to believe that Twitter is ALIVE and that it is infiltrating my life in a disturbing way. Although I admit that maybe I am only thinking that because I spend time in my workplace among patrons who think that the CIA is twittering them through the metal in their fillings. You hear that stuff enough and it starts to become a normal thing to think, I suppose.

Do you guys remember that episode of Gilligan's Island when Gilligan gets knocked in the head with a coconut and his filling gets loose and as a result he starts getting radio waves through them? So every time he would open his mouth, radio sounds would come out? Remember that? That was a good episode.

OhmygodIamtired.

Lastly, I will just share this. People sometimes bring things to the library so that we can add them to the collection. The other day someone brought these in to donate to us. They aren't even full issues, they are just the covers torn off of the real issues. Strange. But awesome.


Who's hair is more impressive, Oprah's or Larry Appleton's?

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Happy Hopscotch Day

Today is my friend Hopscotch's birthday. Today is a day that I officially call Cinco de Hopscotch in her honor and I think you should start using that phrase too, if I am going to be absolutely bossy about it, and I totally am.

Here are some reasons that Hopscotch rockeths out with her cocketh out.

1. She's just...nice. Nice may sound like a flaccid sort of thing to say about someone. But really, niceness is way underrated. She is one of those folks who is naturally kind and gracious. She listens to people when they talk. She has heart. She, like Tyra, smiles with her eyes. But thankfully, she has nothing else in common with Tyra.

2. She laughs readily. A girl after my own heart.

3. She is hella neighborly. Ever since she moved in down the street from me, she has always lended a neighborly hand with things like checking my mail for me when I am out of town, or gossiping about our fellow neighbors, or co-grousing about doing yard work.

4. She warns me about things like watching Twilight. But then talks me through the horror after I do it anyway.

5. She is a SUPERSTAR librarian. Her skills would knock you blind, seriously.

6. She is high-larious.

7. She loves fancy duds as much as I do.

8. She also loves fancy dudes as much as I do. I have one and so does she.

9. She listens to me when I want to whine about work, which I don't really do with very many people. But with her? I let the WHINE GO FREE! I bet she is so happy that she gets to be the receiver of all that lovliness.

10. Etc. etc. etc.

Cinco de Hopscotch! Hell to the yes.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

Well they did sow our freedoms, you know.

It is Monday! I must list!


1. There is no correlation between it being Monday and me having to make a list. I don't know why I started this out with the implication that those two statements are related.


2. I forgot to tell you that when Biogirl and I went to see the tulips last week, we passed by a road sign that said "Next Exit For Visitor InFARMation." Which, let's face it, is awesome.


3. This sign made me think of a story about high school. When we were in 11th grade (or maybe it was even 12th grade), we read aloud from the text book in history class. Yes, I went to a public school in a depressed town, and this is the type of crap we did in school a lot of the time. College prep, not so much. ANYHOO. Alli was reading aloud that day, and as usual, no one was listening. Not the other students, not the teacher, no one. Well, maybe God was, but even that is questionable. Even Alli wasn't really listening to herself. And she was reading a section of the textbook on the framers of the Constitution. Only, she was so disengaged from what she was reading that she droned on and on saying it wrong. She kept saying "the FARMERS of the Constitution." Repeatedly. Finally, she caught it her own self and corrected herself. Because, you know, the teacher was probably really busy combing his mustache hairs or something. I realize that this story is really funny but also really sad in a way because we were kind of neglected youths ("what's a yoot?") in so many ways that it's kind of a bummer. So there you go. Comedy and tragedy, all in one story. Tears of a clown, people.


4. The weekend was super delicious. The weather was great (whenever I don't have to wear a coat I become a much nicer person) and I got lots done. I saw this movie, which made my brain grow a little. And then I followed it with this movie, which shrunk it right back down again.

5. I weeded in my yard yesterday, and dudes, I am SORE TODAY. That makes me feel so freaking decrepit.

6. I went out for coffee with my friend Sarah yesterday morning. We walked to a cafe about 15 minutes away from my house. We had something to drink and two scones, chatted, and then walked back to my house. In that time span? About two hours? Nordic Boy had bought and installed a new toilet in our bathroom. It is amazing that I don't have a complex about being a lazy slow ass, living with a dude like that.

7. We now have a shiny new dual flush toilet. Our water bill and the planet will be very happy with us. I do have some trepidation that when guests come over they will not know how to flush their unmentionables down the crapper, but other than that, I'm happy with it.

8. I think unmentionables are underwear, right? Not number ones and twos. I misnomered that I do believe.

9. Early this morning I have to go teach a class on Intellectual Freedom philosophy and library policy. Which is something I love to do. Which is a nice way to start off a week.

10. I'd like to think that my teaching that class would make farmers of the Constitution proud of me.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl

The Difference Between Us

For BioGirl's birthday card, I wrote on half of it, and Nordic Boy wrote on the other half. I don't remember verbatim exactly what we each wrote, but it was something like this.

My side (which I wrote by whipping out a pen and writing without pause):

Happy birthday to the most awesome of the awesome! You are the most bestest type person of which I am acquainted and I think you're swell and I am so glad that you were born because you are such a huge part of my life and across the years we have known each other you have just gotten awesomer by the minute. I love you a lot and thanks for being such a super terrific friend (even if you are getting sort of old now) and wow we have celebrated lots of birthdays together haven't we? I hope we celebrate tons more. I love you! Love, Librarian Girl (writing getting smaller as it almost runs off the bottom of the page).

His side (which he sat and thought about in silence for about ten full minutes before writing):

Happy birthday! BFFs forever! Love you! Nordic Boy
(then an expanse of empty card space).

I wish I could explain how much this is a metaphor for the two of us as people.

I'm out,
Librarian Girl