The start of this post will be delayed while the author juices some limes.
Mama needs her tequila for this one.
Let me start by saying that I like giving advice. I'm generally much better at figuring out what other people should do with their lives than what I should with mine. And I must give halfway decent advice, because the same people ask for it over and over. I figure this either makes me pretty smart, or them pretty self-destructive and co-dependent. The truth probably lies somewhere in between. So when, as I was wrapping up my workday today, an IM popped up from someone I hadn't talked to in ages, saying they needed some advice, I was more than happy to listen and see what I could offer.
The friend in question is someone #1 and I know from our community theater days. When I met him, he was 16, and I was 25. I've always had kind of a sisterly affection for him, or at least as sisterly as one can be with a boy 9 years your junior who insists on inappropriately flirting with you at every opportunity. We won't even get into the Oedipal/Freudian nightmare that is the manner in which this boy relates to older women - his mother is a woman I would like to drop-kick from here to Tibet for bringing not one, but two very sweet boys into this world, only to turn them into complete basketcases that will be well into their adulthood before they ever stand a chance at figuring out what it takes to be a real man.
Deep breath...
So yeah, I guess it's hardly surprising that I only ever hear from him when he is wallowing in self-pity, needing advice, and not finding anyone else online. Regardless, I'm always happy to help someone who is at least smart enough to recognize that I am older and just a wee bit (oh, who the hell are we kidding - a HELL OF A LOT) wiser than he.
"So, what's the problem?"
Blahblahblah..."I have so many things I want to do, but I'm a workaholic (good thing the keyboard can't transmit eye rolls)...I work hard and I love what I do (which is, apparently, waiting tables at TGIFriday's...a true labor of love to be sure)...blahblah...but I come home at night and I'm exhausted, and just can't seem to get anything done."
(crickets)
"Um, so what exactly is your question?"
"Well...I want to go back to school. And I'm thinking that (name of desirable school withheld) is a good way to go, because they offer a BA in blahblahblah and a BFA in blahblahblah, and they wipe your record clean of any F's so you can start fresh." I feel the need to note here that my use of the word "desirable" is meant only to reflect this boy's desire to attend - not any notable academic reputation on the part of the institution in question.
Now is the time on Sprockets when we explain that this young man has failed out of not one, but TWO colleges. One was "the Julliard of the Midwest for musical theater" (so...many...jokes...must not...mock...openly...), and the other was fuckin' Millikin University. I'm sorry, if you can't get enough close personal attention in a "university" that is SMALLER THAN MY HIGH SCHOOL to pass all of your classes while MAJORING IN MUSICAL THEATER in what is essentially a Midwestern GHOST TOWN with absolutely NOTHING ELSE to do, you are CLEARLY DOING SOMETHING WRONG.
That's what I wanted to say. Instead, I said, "again, what exactly is your question? It seems like you know what you want to do."
"Well...I was going to take some classes at (name of less-desirable school withheld) to get my grades up. But I don't have any way to get back and forth because I don't have a car or a license because of my DUI."
THUD. That would be the sound of my forehead hitting the computer.
Insert big lecture for being stupid enough to get a DUI here.
So the score is as follows:
Stupid things he has done: Failing out of school? Check. Twice. Waited tables in an establishment that requires the wearing of Flair? Check. Endangered the lives of innocent Hoosiers by operating a motorized vehicle while intoxicated (mmm...margarita...oh, shut up, I take transit, remember?)? Check.
Intelligent things he has done: (crickets)
Ooh, Stupidity is up by a seemingly insurmountable margin of 4-0.
It is soon revealed that his punishment for the DUI was rather lenient (the judge apparently thought that a day in traffic school and some community service was adequate. Apparently. Personally, I'm more in favor of a day in stringing-up-by-the-balls school.) and Nicole Ritchie here can actually have his license back whenever he wants. There just "hasn't been a good time to do it."
GOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLL!!!!
Moronitude: 5
Brilliance: 0
He also has some cash saved up, so once he actually gets his license back, he should be able to buy some mode of transport. Aw, what the hell...
Imbecility: 5
Lack of Complete Mental Retardation: 1
So my advice was pretty radical - actually make some attempt at communication with (name of desirable school withheld) to find out if they would, in fact, consider accepting him with his current GPA. (It seems to me that any school that actually ADVERTISES a "clean slate" policy is probably not going to be too picky about how many F's they have to wipe clean, but what the hell do I know? Having never actually attended a school that feels the need to LURE FAILING STUDENTS into its enrollment, I can't say that I have much of a frame of reference.) If not, suck it up, get the license, AND the car, and register for some damned classes already, since you have already wasted an entire semester and are about to waste another.
"Okay, yeah, that sounds good. But..."
Ah, yes. Here it comes: the inevitable "I am completely fucked up over this girl..." moment. The school thing was merely a ruse to draw me in so that he could whine about his love life. I know this is coming, because every conversation I've had with this kid since he graduated high school is a two-parter. Part 1: How I Suck at School. Part 2: How I Suck at Picking Women.
To sum up: the woman in question is his manager.
She is 25.
And engaged.
And the mother of a very small child.
Witlessness: 9
Mental Fortitude: 1, but there may be a challenge on the field. Hey, this is my game, I can make up rules retroactively if I wanna.
My advice at this point? RUN, FORREST! RUN!!!!
"But...she tends to get too involved too quickly with men...and the flirtation...and the sexual tension...and the phone conversations and birthday and Christmas presents we exchange..."
RUN, FORREST! RUN!!!!
I am not a smart man, Jennay: 10
But I know what love is: 0 (Oh, yeah, I took that point back. It was really just a half-point at best - I was rounding up.)
Now, if we're going strictly with the Forrest Gump theme here, I would call this woman Jennay. Instead, I think I'll opt for Psycho TrainWreck Bitch From Hell. PTWBFH...that's pretty much the sound I'm making as I'm reading this giant, steaming pile of crap. The fiancee will henceforth be known as Sucker.
What I wanted to say: "What the FUCK is wrong with you???? How FUCKING STUPID do you have to be???"
What I actually said: "Read what you just wrote. Are you kidding me?"
So apparently, the thing I don't understand is how strong the Connection between Forrest and PTWBFH is. Apparently. She said something like, "I mean, I care about Sucker a lot, but with you...it's like you're my SOULMATE..."
FOOM! All that remains in my desk chair is a cloud of dust as I fantasize about taking my leave in manner of Road Runner.
Okay, maybe I'm just getting crotchety in my old age. But any time I hear one of these kids today mention Soulmates...well...I think they call this the dry heaves. Even at 21, I wasn't so hopelessly naive as to think that there is one, and only one, person on the face of this earth that I am Meant to Be With. I guess I sort of believe in soulmates...but more in the sense of kindred spirits. Believing that one person will complete you is unbelievably dangerous and laden with self-delusion, but there are people you come across in this world that you connect to on a deeper level, even before you know anything about them. Some of my soulmates are platonic, and several of those are reading this right now. Some have the romantic chemistry element, but you don't always meet them at the right time. I like to think that someday I will meet one of them at the right time for both of us, and we will live happily ever after. But we won't make it to death-do-us-part because we are each the only person the other could go the distance with - it'll be because we choose to make it so, and accept that any other soulmates we might meet from then on will just be dear, dear friends.
In a kindly, maternal moment, I explain this particular philosophy to Forrest.
"That makes SOOOOOOOO much sense."
No shit, Sherlock. That's why I have a Ph.D. and you don't.
I'm totally kidding. A Ph.D. in chemistry, contrary to popular belief, does not make me an expert in everything. It's the fact that I just happen to be really fuckin' smart that makes me an expert in everything.
Again, I'm kidding. I suck at sports trivia.
So anyway, this kinder-gentler moment is just part of my overall message to, in no uncertain terms, RUN, FORREST! RUN!!!
"But..."
No buts. This girl is selfish, fickle, and ludicrously unstable. And even if she did dump her fiancee to be with you, do you want to be with a woman who would accept a PROPOSAL OF MARRIAGE, only to TAKE IT BACK????
"But...who knows what would happen..."
I DO. She will BREAK YOUR HEART. Run. Run like the fucking wind, as fast as you can, as far as you can, from this woman. Small towns all over the country are littered with women like this...PARTICULARLY in the state of Indiana. No good can come of a 25-year-old manager from TGIfuckingFridays who thinks a 21-year-old waiter with no education is her SOULMATE. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200. THE CALL IS COMING FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE.
I don't really get anywhere until I play the "you deserve so much better" card. I didn't want to have to go there, but damned if it doesn't work like a charm.
"Yeah, you're right. I do deserve so much better. And I feel like I have SO much to offer...BIG things I want to do...blahblahblah..."
Yes, yes...I know...you're going to be a big, bright shining star. With Flair.
So at this point, Forrest seems to at least be taking my advice to heart, if not actually taking my advice. Baby steps. I take the opportunity to excuse myself so I can finally head for home.
"But wait...I have more questions..."
Sigh...no, I don't know much about student loans...oh, well, if you had a payment due a month ago then you need to get on that immediately...interest is not your friend...can it wait a couple of hours until I get home...great. Talk to you then...yep, no problem, that's why they call me Dr. Beth...
"You're a doctor now?"
Final score:
Idiocy: an even dozen
Faith in America's youth: nonexistent and yet somehow still plummeting
Monday, January 14, 2008
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Google Update
Okay, so apparently, if you mention Google a few dozen times in a single post, you suddenly get a lot more click-throughs from Google hits. Apparently. Since I put up my post on the topic less than 72 hours ago, I have had people visit my site after Googling:
elvis cake pan (TWO MORE TIMES. Am starting to consider leaving chemistry to enter celebrity-shaped confectionery business - clearly there is a demand going unfulfilled here.)
Martha Stewart comeback (the kids love the Martha)
martha stewarts beaver (whoa...maybe just a little too much)
And then a couple of hits each for my last two titles. The Dylan Thomas quote makes sense - it's one of the quotes of the day on my Google homepage. But I'm not entirely sure why someone decided to Google "Watch you weave then breathe your story lines." These ones were neat, though, because they seem to have come from all over the world. I like to see more than two flags in my log.
And because people keep asking, the commenter formerly known as "Professor Howdy" is NOT, in fact, Fearless Leader. FL is, in fact, the last person on this Earth who would EVER send me a link to a video that makes a "convincing argument" against evolution. I have no idea who or what Professor Howdy is, but I guarantee he does NOT want to hear what I think about his comments. Or his blog, for that matter.
Oh, great Oracle of Google, will I ever understand your mysterious ways? Probably not. But at least I know that if you Google "chicken porn," this page now comes up as hit #84 out of more than 2 million.
Not bad.
elvis cake pan (TWO MORE TIMES. Am starting to consider leaving chemistry to enter celebrity-shaped confectionery business - clearly there is a demand going unfulfilled here.)
Martha Stewart comeback (the kids love the Martha)
martha stewarts beaver (whoa...maybe just a little too much)
And then a couple of hits each for my last two titles. The Dylan Thomas quote makes sense - it's one of the quotes of the day on my Google homepage. But I'm not entirely sure why someone decided to Google "Watch you weave then breathe your story lines." These ones were neat, though, because they seem to have come from all over the world. I like to see more than two flags in my log.
And because people keep asking, the commenter formerly known as "Professor Howdy" is NOT, in fact, Fearless Leader. FL is, in fact, the last person on this Earth who would EVER send me a link to a video that makes a "convincing argument" against evolution. I have no idea who or what Professor Howdy is, but I guarantee he does NOT want to hear what I think about his comments. Or his blog, for that matter.
Oh, great Oracle of Google, will I ever understand your mysterious ways? Probably not. But at least I know that if you Google "chicken porn," this page now comes up as hit #84 out of more than 2 million.
Not bad.
"An alcoholic is someone you don't like who drinks as much as you do."
-Dylan Thomas
You would think I would have something to add here, but no.
You would think I would have something to add here, but no.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Watch you weave then breathe your story lines
If the Pope shits behind a fallen tree in the forest and there isn't a blogger around to hear it, does it sound like one hand clapping?
One of my Faithful Readers (tm) IM'ed me today (allegedly) to bitch about the fact that I'm not posting all that often these days (allegedly). Dave honey, this one is (allegedly) for you - I've been compiling it for a few months, and I guess now is as good a time as any...
Oh, and the same people who bitch (allegedly) about me not posting enough, are the same ones who, when I DO post, bitch (allegedly) about them being too long. You people can kiss my ass - you want brevity, find a Twitter page.
I know that a great proportion of my Faithful Readers (tm) (I believe five of a total of about seven, so that's, like, 71% of my readership!) are such because they also write blogs. Much like mine, they're all just chock full of clever little observations/rants about their daily lives, brought into existence by a need to vent/pontificate/keep in touch with long-distance friends. I started writing this silly thing (and continue doing so) because I was getting a fresh start in a new town and entering what I anticipated would be the best time in my life thus far. I wanted to document it for a couple of reasons: first of all, I wanted to remember all of the odd, interesting, and exhilarating things that you notice when everything in your life is new and fresh. Second, I wanted to remember that no matter how good life is, it still has its ups and downs - all too often, our memories are colored too heavily with either the positive or negative. When people ask me how I like living in Toronto, I tend to glow...I don't talk about the fact that the propensity for gloomy weather often gets me down, or that the wind chill can be unreal, or that single Canadian men all seem to fall into one of two categories - those that I scare the bejeezus out of and those that are Just Not That Into Me. On the other hand, only after a year and a half away from Lafayette have I been able to get to a place where I can remember it fondly - for a long time, any pleasant memories of football games, community theater, slumber parties, improv shows, etc. were all but obscured by the bad taste left in my mouth by those last couple of years trying to escape grad school. I like to think that this blog is a fairly accurate representation of what I've been thinking, feeling, and experiencing since I moved here, for better or worse. When I go back through the archives, I can remember quite vividly how I was feeling when I wrote each post, which is what I wanted. Finally, writing a blog is an easy way to keep people up to speed on what you're doing. I am a lousy correspondent - I've dropped the ball on so many e-mail dialogues that my e-toes are throbbing. I love IM, because it's an easy way to stay in touch with people...I feel more connected with old friends just because I see them on my contact list every day. Even if I haven't spoken to them in YEARS, I still see them every day and know they're just a click away from me, and that's comforting. But that doesn't tell me what they've been up to, and typing out a long story is exhausting, and you end up having to break up the story into fragments because each IM has a character limit, and you can't properly edit your storytelling for effect like you all know you do before you call your best friend to tell them what ohmyGodjusthappened to you, and retelling each story for everyone you talk to is justplainEXHAUSTING and...well...you get the point. And this is exactly why I encourage all of you who don't do so already to start a blog - so that I will REALLY know what's going on with you.
So yeah, I pretty much started writing this thing just for me, and that's the main reason so few people read it. My family knows I have a blog, but I haven't given them the address because, well, in the words of my very wise mother as she dropped me off for my first semester of college, "there are some things Moms just don't need to know." And while I could do what some people do and put a big, "Hey Mom, you might wanna skip this one" warning at the top of those sorts of posts, I know I would abuse the privilege. Mom doesn't REALLY need to know exactly how much shitty TV I watch, or how much I swear when I watch football alone, or how badly that last date went or how well the next one might go (winkwinknudgenudgeknowwhatImean?). And frankly, I would end up either censoring myself or putting a "Hey Mom" tag on nearly every post. I've said before that the people that read this thing fall into one of two categories: (1) my best friends of all time and (2) complete strangers. I only give this site out to people who I trust will still love me (or, if it's even possible, love me more) after reading it, and as far as the strangers go, hell, if you don't like it, you can move on, and if you do like it, chances are I like you too so I'm fine with it. But the fact of the matter is, if you put things like this out there, people can find it. This is why I never use last names, and avoid writing about people who I can't come up with a clever pseudonym for (there's more than one person that I have been DYING to write about but haven't, because I can't think of something clever to call them and refuse to use their real names). At any rate, I'm glad I have people reading this, because when I started writing it I had no idea how important feedback was going to be to the whole process.
There are a couple of things that bloggers thrive on. A pinch of narcissism (just enough to convince us that people might actually want to READ what we write)...endless navel-gazing...spellcheck...and in my case, copious amounts of alcohol and the freedom to ramble off-topic whenever I choose. And, of course, feedback. I think my fellow blogger friends would probably agree with me when I say that the frequency of your postings is directly proportional to [(the number of perceived regular readers) + (the number of new readers)^2] x (the number of comments received). Okay, so that may not be the exact formula, but a quick browse of the archives tells me that when people comment frequently, or I have just given this page to someone, or a new reader outs themselves in the comments, I post more often. And, let's face it, just as I can't be trusted to keep posting on a regular basis, my Faithful Readers (tm) can't always be trusted to comment to let me KNOW they're reading. So, a while ago, in an effort to keep myself motivated and keep tabs on whether or not there is, in fact, Anybody Out There, I put a webcounter on this here page. The particular tracking site I use is pretty nifty - it tells me who's checking the page, how often, and how they got here. I actually know when some of you get to work based on when you always check this page, and I can tell whether my regulars are checking from home, or work, or from their parents' house over Thanksgiving. It helps me figure out if I'm losing people because I haven't posted in a month. Or if the random people that happen on my page stick around, or get the heck out of Dodge as soon as they realize that they did not, in fact, find a site that will tell them how to make controlled substances out of common household ingredients in hotel bathrooms. (I've learned the hard way that identifying oneself as a chemist online leads to a certain amount of "Hey, I bet she can tell me how to make meth at home!")
Don't worry, I can't see your names or the fact that you left my page to Google "chicken porn."
I can, however, see what people Googled in the first place that somehow landed them on my page. And really, now that my Faithful Readers (tm) leave me comments to let me know they're still reading, that's primarily what I use the silly webcounter for - I get endless amusement from looking up the Google entries. Like I said at the top of this post, I've been compiling some of these for a LONG time. Unfortunately, I was primarily compiling them in my head at the beginning, and some of the most amusing ones are long since forgotten. Now, I realize that by including these various phrases in a post, I am merely increasing the likelihood that some misguided sap looking for these topics will end up here, but, quite frankly, that's a risk I'm willing to take. I seem to remember MadMup doing a post like this some time ago, and I found it fascinating and highly amusing. And really, we all know that this blog exists for the sole purpose of amusing the Wahooty, faceless Googlers be damned.
I have noticed that the following Googles can be grouped into categories, so that's how I've decided to present them, rather than chronologically. Any spelling/punctuation/grammatical errors have been left intact because dammit, they're funny. However, anything in parentheses is my own commentary:
PSYCHOLOGY/SELF-HELP:
cartoon about unrequited love with an emotionally unavailable man
on a scale 1 to 10 what number i am i quizzes
dream interpretation wearing wedding dress no groom
dream interpretation people without faces
dream of a red weddind dress interpret
Horoscope information is currently not available (TWICE!)
self fulfilling prophecies horoscope
HOROSCOPE SELF FULFILLMENT PROPHECY
Okay, I find the first one just plain sad, but if there is such a cartoon, I am now convinced I need to see it. And apparently, I'm not the only one trying to interpret my own dreams. Or the only person that thinks that horoscopes tend to become self-fulfilling. Apparently. But seriously, who the fuck Googles "Horoscope information is currently not available"??? TWICE??? I mean, what is it about that sentence that makes someone think to themselves, "Hmm...I need more information. Perhaps if I GOOGLE it, the oracle of Google will tell me exactly why I have no future."
ALCHEMIST REFERENCES:
the alchemist symbols themes
the alchemist direct quotes
monologue from the alchemist
THE ALCHEMIST GIRLFRIEND
Okay, these make sense. I believe stuff like this is precisely why MadMup's blog is no longer entitled, "The Muppet Show," although I do think it was the most awesome title ever. I can't see myself changing my title, but if I ever do, "Chicken Porn" is going to be right at the top of my list of alternates.
FOOD:
fish sauce with pomegranate (I believe the word we're looking for here is EW.)
Penrose Fish and Chips Mt. Pleasant (I believe I can blame an Ian comment for that one)
How to make Curds & Whey By Alton Brown (I guess this one makes sense, I do love me some AB. Not getting the curds and whey connection but, eh, whatever.)
elvis cake pan (Em is to blame here - it came up not once... not twice... not even three times... FOUR TIMES. Seriously?!? Let me save you some time, Elvis cake fans - just search directly on eBay next time.)
POP CULTURE REFERENCES/SONG LYRICS (this is by far the biggest category, because we all know how much I love the random pop culture goodness):
im a hazard to myself but im a when im wi (um, what?)
lyrics um ba way A movie theme (not quite sure what they were after there, but I hope they found it)
I fought the law and law won t-shirt
Underalls commercial (this makes me happier than it has any right to)
Billy Vera and the Beaters
family ties song alex dances to at dance (as do these two)
terrible trivium (twice - for those of you who don't know, this is a Phantom Tollbooth reference)
lyrics "but i won't let it faze me"
bud beer commercials raindrops on roses (IS there a Bud commercial featuring "Raindrops on Roses"??)
cartoon germs
the awesome power of music
scrubs lyrics "this is ourselves"
I can't recall your name but your fez is familiar
Mr. Magee don't make me angry
make me angry magee
most charming supervillains
let auld acquaintances be forgot
I think it's funny how many of these come from my incredibly obscure titles. A number of them referred people to my "Awesome Power of Music" post, which is still one of my all-time favorites, so I figure it's Martha (in Wahootyspeak, that means it's a Good Thing). Which leads me to...
MARTHA STEWART (yes, kids, she gets her own category!)
martha stewart alchemist
martha is my hero
martha stewart home hero
That first one is my favorite. Because what on earth would possibly possess someone to need to Google those two things together? Is Martha secretly the holder of the Philosopher's Stone? Because I don't think I can handle loving her any more than I already do.
COMPLETELY RANDOM:
reasons i live alone (dude, if you don't already KNOW your reasons, perhaps you should get thyself a roommate)
Labmates Kennels (twice???)
grand & toy sucks (hee hee - it just makes me happy that Googling ANYTHING plus the word "sucks" would land you on my page)
SOMEWHERE, A GOOGLER WAS SORELY DISAPPOINTED:
girls in victoria's secret pink underwear
VGLM sex
That second one made me laugh, but also had me very worried that all this time I'd been using an initialism (not an acronym, that's something for another post I've been compiling for AGES) that meant something I really didn't want it to mean. So, just to be safe, I Googled the phrase to find out what that person might ACTUALLY have been looking for...all the time worrying that I was going to find pictures of some sex act so horrifically deviant that I had never even heard of it.
Fortunately, it turns out that the Googler in question was, in fact, only looking to have sex with a Very Good-Looking Man. Whew. But seriously...dude, I am SO EMBARASSED FOR YOU RIGHT NOW.
And, of course, there were a few hits where somebody Googled "Wahooty" or "the alchemist blog" or some combination. I trust that those folks are probably you people and you actually found exactly what you were looking for. I've tried Googling "Wahooty" and was pleased to find out that very few hits come up - there's this page, and then some random postings to message boards and the like where it is used merely as a joyful exclamation of sorts. It's good to feel original. I may not be a very reliable source for an Elvis cake pan, a pomegranate/fish sauce recipe, lingerie models, or biographical information on Martha Stewart, but I am the one, and only, Wahooty. I'm glad you found me, no matter how brief the stay.
Final side note: One other thing I just recently gleaned from my webcounter is that I now have reason to believe that my boss (aka Fearless Leader) may actually be reading this. Some would be scared pantsless by this, but since a) I don't blog while I'm supposed to be working and b) in my brief mentions of him I believe I only say things that range from inconsequential to flattering, I'm not all that paranoid about it. Especially since, if it IS you, I know you've stopped by when you're at work. ;) If you are out there, FL, I have NO IDEA how you found this thing or how long you've been around, but you are certainly welcome. But suffice it to say, you now know me WAY better than I know you, so you owe me at least one long night over many, many beers.
Oh, and you are reading this site along with some poor schmuck who just Googled "pantsless chicken porn." I hope you're proud of yourself.
One of my Faithful Readers (tm) IM'ed me today (allegedly) to bitch about the fact that I'm not posting all that often these days (allegedly). Dave honey, this one is (allegedly) for you - I've been compiling it for a few months, and I guess now is as good a time as any...
Oh, and the same people who bitch (allegedly) about me not posting enough, are the same ones who, when I DO post, bitch (allegedly) about them being too long. You people can kiss my ass - you want brevity, find a Twitter page.
I know that a great proportion of my Faithful Readers (tm) (I believe five of a total of about seven, so that's, like, 71% of my readership!) are such because they also write blogs. Much like mine, they're all just chock full of clever little observations/rants about their daily lives, brought into existence by a need to vent/pontificate/keep in touch with long-distance friends. I started writing this silly thing (and continue doing so) because I was getting a fresh start in a new town and entering what I anticipated would be the best time in my life thus far. I wanted to document it for a couple of reasons: first of all, I wanted to remember all of the odd, interesting, and exhilarating things that you notice when everything in your life is new and fresh. Second, I wanted to remember that no matter how good life is, it still has its ups and downs - all too often, our memories are colored too heavily with either the positive or negative. When people ask me how I like living in Toronto, I tend to glow...I don't talk about the fact that the propensity for gloomy weather often gets me down, or that the wind chill can be unreal, or that single Canadian men all seem to fall into one of two categories - those that I scare the bejeezus out of and those that are Just Not That Into Me. On the other hand, only after a year and a half away from Lafayette have I been able to get to a place where I can remember it fondly - for a long time, any pleasant memories of football games, community theater, slumber parties, improv shows, etc. were all but obscured by the bad taste left in my mouth by those last couple of years trying to escape grad school. I like to think that this blog is a fairly accurate representation of what I've been thinking, feeling, and experiencing since I moved here, for better or worse. When I go back through the archives, I can remember quite vividly how I was feeling when I wrote each post, which is what I wanted. Finally, writing a blog is an easy way to keep people up to speed on what you're doing. I am a lousy correspondent - I've dropped the ball on so many e-mail dialogues that my e-toes are throbbing. I love IM, because it's an easy way to stay in touch with people...I feel more connected with old friends just because I see them on my contact list every day. Even if I haven't spoken to them in YEARS, I still see them every day and know they're just a click away from me, and that's comforting. But that doesn't tell me what they've been up to, and typing out a long story is exhausting, and you end up having to break up the story into fragments because each IM has a character limit, and you can't properly edit your storytelling for effect like you all know you do before you call your best friend to tell them what ohmyGodjusthappened to you, and retelling each story for everyone you talk to is justplainEXHAUSTING and...well...you get the point. And this is exactly why I encourage all of you who don't do so already to start a blog - so that I will REALLY know what's going on with you.
So yeah, I pretty much started writing this thing just for me, and that's the main reason so few people read it. My family knows I have a blog, but I haven't given them the address because, well, in the words of my very wise mother as she dropped me off for my first semester of college, "there are some things Moms just don't need to know." And while I could do what some people do and put a big, "Hey Mom, you might wanna skip this one" warning at the top of those sorts of posts, I know I would abuse the privilege. Mom doesn't REALLY need to know exactly how much shitty TV I watch, or how much I swear when I watch football alone, or how badly that last date went or how well the next one might go (winkwinknudgenudgeknowwhatImean?). And frankly, I would end up either censoring myself or putting a "Hey Mom" tag on nearly every post. I've said before that the people that read this thing fall into one of two categories: (1) my best friends of all time and (2) complete strangers. I only give this site out to people who I trust will still love me (or, if it's even possible, love me more) after reading it, and as far as the strangers go, hell, if you don't like it, you can move on, and if you do like it, chances are I like you too so I'm fine with it. But the fact of the matter is, if you put things like this out there, people can find it. This is why I never use last names, and avoid writing about people who I can't come up with a clever pseudonym for (there's more than one person that I have been DYING to write about but haven't, because I can't think of something clever to call them and refuse to use their real names). At any rate, I'm glad I have people reading this, because when I started writing it I had no idea how important feedback was going to be to the whole process.
There are a couple of things that bloggers thrive on. A pinch of narcissism (just enough to convince us that people might actually want to READ what we write)...endless navel-gazing...spellcheck...and in my case, copious amounts of alcohol and the freedom to ramble off-topic whenever I choose. And, of course, feedback. I think my fellow blogger friends would probably agree with me when I say that the frequency of your postings is directly proportional to [(the number of perceived regular readers) + (the number of new readers)^2] x (the number of comments received). Okay, so that may not be the exact formula, but a quick browse of the archives tells me that when people comment frequently, or I have just given this page to someone, or a new reader outs themselves in the comments, I post more often. And, let's face it, just as I can't be trusted to keep posting on a regular basis, my Faithful Readers (tm) can't always be trusted to comment to let me KNOW they're reading. So, a while ago, in an effort to keep myself motivated and keep tabs on whether or not there is, in fact, Anybody Out There, I put a webcounter on this here page. The particular tracking site I use is pretty nifty - it tells me who's checking the page, how often, and how they got here. I actually know when some of you get to work based on when you always check this page, and I can tell whether my regulars are checking from home, or work, or from their parents' house over Thanksgiving. It helps me figure out if I'm losing people because I haven't posted in a month. Or if the random people that happen on my page stick around, or get the heck out of Dodge as soon as they realize that they did not, in fact, find a site that will tell them how to make controlled substances out of common household ingredients in hotel bathrooms. (I've learned the hard way that identifying oneself as a chemist online leads to a certain amount of "Hey, I bet she can tell me how to make meth at home!")
Don't worry, I can't see your names or the fact that you left my page to Google "chicken porn."
I can, however, see what people Googled in the first place that somehow landed them on my page. And really, now that my Faithful Readers (tm) leave me comments to let me know they're still reading, that's primarily what I use the silly webcounter for - I get endless amusement from looking up the Google entries. Like I said at the top of this post, I've been compiling some of these for a LONG time. Unfortunately, I was primarily compiling them in my head at the beginning, and some of the most amusing ones are long since forgotten. Now, I realize that by including these various phrases in a post, I am merely increasing the likelihood that some misguided sap looking for these topics will end up here, but, quite frankly, that's a risk I'm willing to take. I seem to remember MadMup doing a post like this some time ago, and I found it fascinating and highly amusing. And really, we all know that this blog exists for the sole purpose of amusing the Wahooty, faceless Googlers be damned.
I have noticed that the following Googles can be grouped into categories, so that's how I've decided to present them, rather than chronologically. Any spelling/punctuation/grammatical errors have been left intact because dammit, they're funny. However, anything in parentheses is my own commentary:
PSYCHOLOGY/SELF-HELP:
cartoon about unrequited love with an emotionally unavailable man
on a scale 1 to 10 what number i am i quizzes
dream interpretation wearing wedding dress no groom
dream interpretation people without faces
dream of a red weddind dress interpret
Horoscope information is currently not available (TWICE!)
self fulfilling prophecies horoscope
HOROSCOPE SELF FULFILLMENT PROPHECY
Okay, I find the first one just plain sad, but if there is such a cartoon, I am now convinced I need to see it. And apparently, I'm not the only one trying to interpret my own dreams. Or the only person that thinks that horoscopes tend to become self-fulfilling. Apparently. But seriously, who the fuck Googles "Horoscope information is currently not available"??? TWICE??? I mean, what is it about that sentence that makes someone think to themselves, "Hmm...I need more information. Perhaps if I GOOGLE it, the oracle of Google will tell me exactly why I have no future."
ALCHEMIST REFERENCES:
the alchemist symbols themes
the alchemist direct quotes
monologue from the alchemist
THE ALCHEMIST GIRLFRIEND
Okay, these make sense. I believe stuff like this is precisely why MadMup's blog is no longer entitled, "The Muppet Show," although I do think it was the most awesome title ever. I can't see myself changing my title, but if I ever do, "Chicken Porn" is going to be right at the top of my list of alternates.
FOOD:
fish sauce with pomegranate (I believe the word we're looking for here is EW.)
Penrose Fish and Chips Mt. Pleasant (I believe I can blame an Ian comment for that one)
How to make Curds & Whey By Alton Brown (I guess this one makes sense, I do love me some AB. Not getting the curds and whey connection but, eh, whatever.)
elvis cake pan (Em is to blame here - it came up not once... not twice... not even three times... FOUR TIMES. Seriously?!? Let me save you some time, Elvis cake fans - just search directly on eBay next time.)
POP CULTURE REFERENCES/SONG LYRICS (this is by far the biggest category, because we all know how much I love the random pop culture goodness):
im a hazard to myself but im a when im wi (um, what?)
lyrics um ba way A movie theme (not quite sure what they were after there, but I hope they found it)
I fought the law and law won t-shirt
Underalls commercial (this makes me happier than it has any right to)
Billy Vera and the Beaters
family ties song alex dances to at dance (as do these two)
terrible trivium (twice - for those of you who don't know, this is a Phantom Tollbooth reference)
lyrics "but i won't let it faze me"
bud beer commercials raindrops on roses (IS there a Bud commercial featuring "Raindrops on Roses"??)
cartoon germs
the awesome power of music
scrubs lyrics "this is ourselves"
I can't recall your name but your fez is familiar
Mr. Magee don't make me angry
make me angry magee
most charming supervillains
let auld acquaintances be forgot
I think it's funny how many of these come from my incredibly obscure titles. A number of them referred people to my "Awesome Power of Music" post, which is still one of my all-time favorites, so I figure it's Martha (in Wahootyspeak, that means it's a Good Thing). Which leads me to...
MARTHA STEWART (yes, kids, she gets her own category!)
martha stewart alchemist
martha is my hero
martha stewart home hero
That first one is my favorite. Because what on earth would possibly possess someone to need to Google those two things together? Is Martha secretly the holder of the Philosopher's Stone? Because I don't think I can handle loving her any more than I already do.
COMPLETELY RANDOM:
reasons i live alone (dude, if you don't already KNOW your reasons, perhaps you should get thyself a roommate)
Labmates Kennels (twice???)
grand & toy sucks (hee hee - it just makes me happy that Googling ANYTHING plus the word "sucks" would land you on my page)
SOMEWHERE, A GOOGLER WAS SORELY DISAPPOINTED:
girls in victoria's secret pink underwear
VGLM sex
That second one made me laugh, but also had me very worried that all this time I'd been using an initialism (not an acronym, that's something for another post I've been compiling for AGES) that meant something I really didn't want it to mean. So, just to be safe, I Googled the phrase to find out what that person might ACTUALLY have been looking for...all the time worrying that I was going to find pictures of some sex act so horrifically deviant that I had never even heard of it.
Fortunately, it turns out that the Googler in question was, in fact, only looking to have sex with a Very Good-Looking Man. Whew. But seriously...dude, I am SO EMBARASSED FOR YOU RIGHT NOW.
And, of course, there were a few hits where somebody Googled "Wahooty" or "the alchemist blog" or some combination. I trust that those folks are probably you people and you actually found exactly what you were looking for. I've tried Googling "Wahooty" and was pleased to find out that very few hits come up - there's this page, and then some random postings to message boards and the like where it is used merely as a joyful exclamation of sorts. It's good to feel original. I may not be a very reliable source for an Elvis cake pan, a pomegranate/fish sauce recipe, lingerie models, or biographical information on Martha Stewart, but I am the one, and only, Wahooty. I'm glad you found me, no matter how brief the stay.
Final side note: One other thing I just recently gleaned from my webcounter is that I now have reason to believe that my boss (aka Fearless Leader) may actually be reading this. Some would be scared pantsless by this, but since a) I don't blog while I'm supposed to be working and b) in my brief mentions of him I believe I only say things that range from inconsequential to flattering, I'm not all that paranoid about it. Especially since, if it IS you, I know you've stopped by when you're at work. ;) If you are out there, FL, I have NO IDEA how you found this thing or how long you've been around, but you are certainly welcome. But suffice it to say, you now know me WAY better than I know you, so you owe me at least one long night over many, many beers.
Oh, and you are reading this site along with some poor schmuck who just Googled "pantsless chicken porn." I hope you're proud of yourself.
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Should auld acquaintance be forgot?
New Year's Eve just ain't all it's cracked up to be. It's like Valentine's Day - full of optimism and planning, and nearly always disappointing.
About a month and a half ago, I had a conversation that went as follows:
Me: I'm trying to decide on Christmas travel plans.
Unidentified Other Person: Yeah? What's the problem?
Me: I can spend New Years' either here or at home. If I stay home, I am guaranteed that Mom and Dad will go to bed by 10pm, and I will ring in the New Year alone at midnight because I am too damned stubborn to go to bed before then. If I come back here, chances are my friends will forget about me/not know I'm back in town because I'm too tired to remind them and I will ring in the New Year alone at midnight because I am too damned stubborn to go to bed before then. Either way, there's a 90% chance I'll be alone at midnight anyway, so I don't know why I'm debating it.
Me again: Oh, and this is complicated by the fact that I have a friend that has invited me to a wedding on the 30th. Not that I'm expecting that particular invitation to hold water, since this friend has a history of disappointing me.
UOP: Well, my friends and I never decide until a couple of days after Christmas what we're doing, but whatever it is, you're welcome to join us.
It was a nondescript, yet I believed sincere, invitation.
Around this time, I am also invited by BNL to a "house party." I tell him I already have a tentative invitation, but will keep him in mind if that falls through. I am a first-come, first-served kind of girl. Besides, I'd rather hang out with people my own age and not attending a kegger, no matter how ragin' (but I keep that to myself).
Cut to a couple of weeks later. I ask AforeMentioned Friend if he knows yet if he is invited to said wedding with guest, because I would go with him if he agrees to take me to the airport the next day. I figure that way I get to see him (which would be nice - AMF is one of 3 people from high school I still make an effort to speak to) but also get a ride to the airport out of it, which makes everyone happy. He agrees to this arrangement, but qualifies it by saying that he's not sure he's going to get invited with a date, because it's going to be a small wedding. Okay, let me know, I say.
Cut to a few days later - I ask if the invitation has come. He says no, but don't count on the invite, because his buddy got his invitation and his wife wasn't even invited. A day later, it's confirmed that when his invite arrives, it will not read, "AMF...and guest." Glad to hear that my low expectations have been met perfectly.
Cut to a week ago. I e-mail the UOP because I haven't talked to them since I went home and am about to be out of internet/phone contact for a couple of days. I figure this would be a good time for the UOP to renew the New Year's invitation if they were actually serious about it. No response.
Cut to yesterday. I arrive home after 14 hours of travel and no sleep. Still no response. AforeMentioned Friend IMs me: "hey there."
Me: "hey."
AMF:
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH MEN? Why would you IM me if you have nothing, repeat NOTHING, to say to me??? Oh, and may I add that the AMF lives in my hometown? He has waited until the very night I have arrived back in Toronto to even attempt talking to me. Even though I popped online every evening while I was home. He has a knack for doing this.
Fine...
Me: Aren't you supposed to be at a wedding?
AMF: That was yesterday.
THE MOTHERFUCKER HAD THE DATE WRONG.
Me: you told me it was the 30th.
AMF: it was the 29th. The invitation hadn't arrived yet, and I was just going on what I was told.
Me: I'm glad I didn't make travel plans around it or anything.
A little history on the AMF: He made a trip to Buffalo this past summer. Months ahead of time, he told me he was planning said trip. He said he would come see me (Buffalo is only about 2 hours away from Toronto). I said, "great." He hinted at it again about a month before he came up...how it wouldn't be a big deal to drive up here since it wasn't far. I heard nothing from him for a few weeks, until he IMed me to say, "I was up in your neck of the woods a few days ago." This is fairly representative of our entire relationship. He and I are great together in theory, but in practice, he can't seem to care enough to actually see me. Ever. Don't let the frequent mantra of, "so when are you coming home? Harrisonburg isn't that far..." fool you. I've learned not to.
Anyway, I digress. I managed to not let the AMF fuck up my plans this time like he has with, oh, pretty much every other trip home ever. It was a narrow escape, but an escape nonetheless. The problem is, I still haven't heard back from the UOP, the person I would really have liked to spend New Year's with. The UOP is fun and interesting, and has fun and interesting friends that I can make conversation with. And okay, fine, the UOP is a single man whose company I enjoy and whom I would not at all have minded kissing at midnight, platonically or otherwise. So sue me.
Regardless, my prediction came true. It's midnight, and I'm alone and wearing flannel cow pajamas. To be fair, I don't feel much like going out anyway - I'm allergic to something in my parents' house (probably their Christmas tree, although you'll never see me buying a fake one because I don't believe in them) and have come home with something that may or may not be a sinus infection but involves something fluid inside my right ear because I can hear better if I tip my head to the left. And sometime this morning I decided to make myself a Good Dinner because after a week and a half away (and a few days beforehand of takeout because I didn't want to leave any dirty dishes behind) I miss my own cooking. I won't get into the details, but there was Sauce involved. And I have discovered a new cocktail - a glass of bubbly with some pomegranate juice and a few seeds dropped in - it's like a pink, sparkly, alcoholic lava lamp that I can watch along with Shrek 2 and some old episodes of Sex and the City. And tomorrow, I have a few inches of snow and a full afternoon of football planned - I have laid in a good supply of beer and whiskey and a Crock Pot dinner in the works - and if you know me even a little bit, you know that you probably shouldn't disturb me (Gator Bowl + Rose Bowl = blue and orange collegiate goodness all around). So all in all, it's a pretty nice New Year's, and a freaking fantastic Monday night.
It is the nature of the self-indulgent blogger to look back at what they have written and re-evaluate. Last year, I wrote, "So I'm raising a glass to 2007, in the hopes that a new cycle will begin. One in which every year is the BEST year of my short life. Foolishly optimistic? I'm sure. But what can I say? I'm a hopeless romantic."
Here's to 2008. So far, so good.
About a month and a half ago, I had a conversation that went as follows:
Me: I'm trying to decide on Christmas travel plans.
Unidentified Other Person: Yeah? What's the problem?
Me: I can spend New Years' either here or at home. If I stay home, I am guaranteed that Mom and Dad will go to bed by 10pm, and I will ring in the New Year alone at midnight because I am too damned stubborn to go to bed before then. If I come back here, chances are my friends will forget about me/not know I'm back in town because I'm too tired to remind them and I will ring in the New Year alone at midnight because I am too damned stubborn to go to bed before then. Either way, there's a 90% chance I'll be alone at midnight anyway, so I don't know why I'm debating it.
Me again: Oh, and this is complicated by the fact that I have a friend that has invited me to a wedding on the 30th. Not that I'm expecting that particular invitation to hold water, since this friend has a history of disappointing me.
UOP: Well, my friends and I never decide until a couple of days after Christmas what we're doing, but whatever it is, you're welcome to join us.
It was a nondescript, yet I believed sincere, invitation.
Around this time, I am also invited by BNL to a "house party." I tell him I already have a tentative invitation, but will keep him in mind if that falls through. I am a first-come, first-served kind of girl. Besides, I'd rather hang out with people my own age and not attending a kegger, no matter how ragin' (but I keep that to myself).
Cut to a couple of weeks later. I ask AforeMentioned Friend if he knows yet if he is invited to said wedding with guest, because I would go with him if he agrees to take me to the airport the next day. I figure that way I get to see him (which would be nice - AMF is one of 3 people from high school I still make an effort to speak to) but also get a ride to the airport out of it, which makes everyone happy. He agrees to this arrangement, but qualifies it by saying that he's not sure he's going to get invited with a date, because it's going to be a small wedding. Okay, let me know, I say.
Cut to a few days later - I ask if the invitation has come. He says no, but don't count on the invite, because his buddy got his invitation and his wife wasn't even invited. A day later, it's confirmed that when his invite arrives, it will not read, "AMF...and guest." Glad to hear that my low expectations have been met perfectly.
Cut to a week ago. I e-mail the UOP because I haven't talked to them since I went home and am about to be out of internet/phone contact for a couple of days. I figure this would be a good time for the UOP to renew the New Year's invitation if they were actually serious about it. No response.
Cut to yesterday. I arrive home after 14 hours of travel and no sleep. Still no response. AforeMentioned Friend IMs me: "hey there."
Me: "hey."
AMF:
WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH MEN? Why would you IM me if you have nothing, repeat NOTHING, to say to me??? Oh, and may I add that the AMF lives in my hometown? He has waited until the very night I have arrived back in Toronto to even attempt talking to me. Even though I popped online every evening while I was home. He has a knack for doing this.
Me: Aren't you supposed to be at a wedding?
AMF: That was yesterday.
THE MOTHERFUCKER HAD THE DATE WRONG.
Me: you told me it was the 30th.
AMF: it was the 29th. The invitation hadn't arrived yet, and I was just going on what I was told.
Me: I'm glad I didn't make travel plans around it or anything.
A little history on the AMF: He made a trip to Buffalo this past summer. Months ahead of time, he told me he was planning said trip. He said he would come see me (Buffalo is only about 2 hours away from Toronto). I said, "great." He hinted at it again about a month before he came up...how it wouldn't be a big deal to drive up here since it wasn't far. I heard nothing from him for a few weeks, until he IMed me to say, "I was up in your neck of the woods a few days ago." This is fairly representative of our entire relationship. He and I are great together in theory, but in practice, he can't seem to care enough to actually see me. Ever. Don't let the frequent mantra of, "so when are you coming home? Harrisonburg isn't that far..." fool you. I've learned not to.
Anyway, I digress. I managed to not let the AMF fuck up my plans this time like he has with, oh, pretty much every other trip home ever. It was a narrow escape, but an escape nonetheless. The problem is, I still haven't heard back from the UOP, the person I would really have liked to spend New Year's with. The UOP is fun and interesting, and has fun and interesting friends that I can make conversation with. And okay, fine, the UOP is a single man whose company I enjoy and whom I would not at all have minded kissing at midnight, platonically or otherwise. So sue me.
Regardless, my prediction came true. It's midnight, and I'm alone and wearing flannel cow pajamas. To be fair, I don't feel much like going out anyway - I'm allergic to something in my parents' house (probably their Christmas tree, although you'll never see me buying a fake one because I don't believe in them) and have come home with something that may or may not be a sinus infection but involves something fluid inside my right ear because I can hear better if I tip my head to the left. And sometime this morning I decided to make myself a Good Dinner because after a week and a half away (and a few days beforehand of takeout because I didn't want to leave any dirty dishes behind) I miss my own cooking. I won't get into the details, but there was Sauce involved. And I have discovered a new cocktail - a glass of bubbly with some pomegranate juice and a few seeds dropped in - it's like a pink, sparkly, alcoholic lava lamp that I can watch along with Shrek 2 and some old episodes of Sex and the City. And tomorrow, I have a few inches of snow and a full afternoon of football planned - I have laid in a good supply of beer and whiskey and a Crock Pot dinner in the works - and if you know me even a little bit, you know that you probably shouldn't disturb me (Gator Bowl + Rose Bowl = blue and orange collegiate goodness all around). So all in all, it's a pretty nice New Year's, and a freaking fantastic Monday night.
It is the nature of the self-indulgent blogger to look back at what they have written and re-evaluate. Last year, I wrote, "So I'm raising a glass to 2007, in the hopes that a new cycle will begin. One in which every year is the BEST year of my short life. Foolishly optimistic? I'm sure. But what can I say? I'm a hopeless romantic."
Here's to 2008. So far, so good.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
