Yeah, um, no

I haven’t really felt like writing lately, so I haven’t.  I’m sorry.  My life outside the computer has been pretty busy, though, and I’ve been feeling drained and scattered.  This week I’m traveling for work.  Maybe when I get back I’ll feel like writing again.  For now, I’m alive, just not inspired….  Blah.

Consumer Inquiry

Regular dinner time Lean Pockets have a perfectly acceptable cheese-like substance in them.  So why is there weirdo icky American-type cheese-like substance in the breakfast ones?  And why are they so much smaller?

Playing Roger Says

Over the weekend I bleached out the old fish tank, cleaned it up, and packed it up to bring into work.  I figured I would set it up; the gurgling would be soothing and nice whether I got a new fish soon or not. 

Then on Sunday I attended my book club (where we petted sweet beagles, ate a ton of food, and did not really discuss The Secret History of the Pink Carnation) and told them the story of Inari’s ultimate demise.  One woman immediately got excited and asked if I was planning to get another fish soon.  Before I could answer, she launched into the story of her friend she visited the night before who had a betta that needed a new home.  Previous residing in a 30 gallon tank with some angel fish, he was currently residing with but one angel fish as he had killed the rest. 

So of course I said I would be more than happy to take this hapless fish who was clearly not getting the care or living environment he needed.  I was informed that he was bright red, very speedy, and his name was Rocket.

Rocket, awesome!

I went home that afternoon to tell the Boy all about it.  “Fish named Rocket!”  “Speedy!”  “Chases the other fish!”  “He’s going to be so badass!”

Later that evening my friend called me back to say a) her friends were delighted I was willing to take their fish and b) his name is Roger.

Roger?  That’s kind of..  lame. 

So on Monday I set up my tank at work.  Tuesday evening my friend and I went on a serious fish rescue mission (right after I finished a delicious tilapia dinner.  so logical).  It turned out the reason the fish was in the inappropriate tank was that some GENIUS preschool teacher had decided to give all her students betta fish.  This family has three girls in preschool, thus, three fish.  They also have three cats, so after two fish bit it, they figured the third would be better off with the angel fish than on the counter.  Not so for the angel fish.  Let that be a lesson, preschool teachers, give them pencils, not living creatures!

Roger, as it turns out, is anything but lame.  I would go so far as to say, without hesitation, that Roger is a badass.  He’s a brilliant dark red, and the expression on his face means business.  Also, he’s fully twice the size Inari ever was. 

I’m seriously considering getting him a larger tank.  In the meantime, Roger has taken to bossing my office around.  My co-workers have been bring me fresh coffee and such because Roger says.  You never wanna mess with the office badass.

Mmm, books

I just got back from spending my lunch break at the Barnes and Noble.  Now it’s all I can do to focus on my computer instead of diving into The Namesake or A Long Way Gone, both books I’ve been coveting the chance to read for some time now.  I’m even itching and twitching to get back to North and South, even though it’s proving a long read, very reminiscent of college classes.

I believe part of the reason I want to dive into these new books is that I haven’t read anything earth-shattering lately.  Overall, my life has been very grey, dull, and not terribly exciting, par for the first quarter of the year course.  I’m sure that grey has affected my reading in some way, whether its my choices or my perceptions that are the prey.  But tomorrow is the first day of spring, so I’m banishing the grey.  With it, here are my uninspired reports on the relatively uninspired books I’ve read lately:

The Dogs of Babel, by Carolyn Parkhurst
Not a fan. The writing wasn’t that great, the characters were overblown and unbelievable, and there were some horribly graphic scenes depicting violence to dogs.  If it weren’t for the unnecessary violence, I wouldn’t have had a problem with this book.  I even think depiction of violence like that could be used effectively in some cases.  It wasn’t here.

Dry: A Memoir, by Augusten Burroughs
I felt like this book treated a subject as serious as that of A Million Little Pieces with as much gravity as a chick-lit-oriented weight loss memoir. I liked that aspect of it, but I didn’t like Burroughs voice. The author’s tone was a bit self-important and arrogant.  This is one I think might defintely have been influenced by my general malaise, though.  I’ll have to read another by him, as he is so well-loved by others.

The Memory Keeper’s Daughter, by Kim Edwards
Very good, enjoyable read. It was a little thought-provoking and very touching, definitely worthwhile but nothing earth-shattering.  I might feel differently about that if I were a mother, though.

The Secret History of the Pink Carnation, by Lauren Willig
The Masque of the Black Tulip, by Lauren Willig
First two books by the author; I think she’s working up to quite a series. Blend of historical romance, mystery, chick lit, a little smut for fun. I read the first in one long sitting on President’s Day afternoon. I think they’re pretty good for what they are, although some in my bookclub turned their noses right up.

North and South, by Elizabeth Gaskell
Originally published serially, its taking me forever to get through.  A little heavy-handed with the main point of the toll of the industrial revolution on the human condition, but at the time it was written that was a more novel idea than it is now.  Great writing and great characters; I’m enjoying it.

Fish-plosion of Words

I apologize to whoever came here on the search term “dropsy dead fish.”  You, my friend, do not have a good outlook on life.  Try “dropsy live fish” or “dropsy fish recovery” or something!  However, what I haven’t shared with the Internets is the story of how my Inari is not so much of this world anymore.  We had a good run of it from May 12, 2006 to February 23, 2007, but yes, a few weeks ago, he passed.

It was a pretty horrific thing, actually.  Also, funny as all hell.  I had taken him home the weekend before because it was a long weekend, and I thought he would be too cold in the office with the heat off.  Then I just got lazy and didn’t take him back in.  Plus, Geoffrey liked to look at him, and I figured a little healthy fear might encourage him to get better.

You see, he was very sick.  He got fin rot while I was away in Africa last fall and never really recovered.  Now I know part of that was the colder temperatures in my office.  At the time I was just pumping him full of fish medicine and changing his water twice a week.  Which, let me tell you, made my co-workers think I’d lost my obsessive compulsive little mind.

So, anyhow, fish at home.  With myself and the Boy and the two cats and the at home fish (who was also ill briefly, but seems fine now, thanks for asking).  Thursday evening before I went to bed I noticed the fish was, um, vertical.  I found that odd, but whatever, he was an odd fish, right?  Well, right before I fell asleep it occurred to me that he was veritical because his gills were so inflamed he couldn’t breathe underwater.  I feel ill just thinking about what torture that must have been for him.  Ill.

The next morning the Boy and I both observed him independantly and came to one another to say he needed to be put out of his misery.  Surprisingly enough, here comes the funny part…

Just go check out a couple of these.

What in the hell is wrong with the world that THAT MANY people have considered putting their pet fish in the blender?  I mean, seriously.  How is that the first thing that comes to mind?

And is there something wrong with me that I am reduced to giggles at the thought of someone contemplating the end all, be all, most humane way to BLENDER THEIR PET?

I think this quote sums it up:

So how should one kill a fish? People recommend some incredibly brutal methods. Throw them in a blender, they say, it’s quick—yeah, and I imagine that throwing cats in a woodchipper would be quick, too, but no one suggests that humane societies should adopt it.

Yes, the logic is so flawed it’s just funny.  Now the funny part is over.

We settled on using vodka to kill the fish.  It was between vodka and ice water, and since the vodka was in the freezer, we figured it was a sure thing.  So I picked up the cat and clutched him to me in terror and love in the bedroom, while the Boy poured out a couple shots of Ketel One in the next room. 

And then I hear, “Woah, that was quick!”  Followed by, “Oh god! Oh god!  Not quick, not dead!  Oh god!”

Apparently the inflamed gills and the not being able to breathe also meant the fish couldn’t DIE quickly.  The Boy poured another many ounces of vodka on him and fled the scene.  Five minutes later he was definitely dead.

While we considered bringing the blender out THEN, we couldn’t think of any good frozen drinks with vodka, let alone vodka and raw pet fish.  Plus I was late for work.

As I said above, the home fish, a red female betta by the name of Pants, is doing very well.  I got a thermometer so I know her tank is just shy of the optimum temperature.  I don’t know how to raise it, really, but I know where it is, anyhow. 

Which brings us to, How the Fish Man Irritated Me.  The other day I stopped by the fish store to pick up said thermometer and also look into ways to heat a tank so I could get another fish for work.  First the first time I ever, I did find tank heaters for tanks smaller than 5 gallons, but still nothing for my 1 gallon tanks.

While I was purshasing my thermometer, I explained the situation to the cashier and asked his opinion.  He said, “Well, you could just wait a few weeks, then it will be warmer.”

There you have it, folks, global warming will take full effect in a few weeks and it will never be winter again.  That must have been what he meant, right?  Surely he wasn’t implying that I wouldn’t be able to keep the fish alive for more than 6 months, right?

Bastard.

Observation

Bangs.  They’re a very tricky hairstyle, to be sure.  However, my stylist chopped me off some pretty ones that sweep very nicely to the side, add the illusion of volume without teasing and curling them within an inch of their life (can anyone guess the last decade in which I had bangs?), and aren’t all up in my eyeballs.  The hidden downfall?  By 4:00 pm my pretty bangs were greasy as Mickey-Ds thanks to my compulsive weirdo inability to stop touching them.

Two (and two halves) Things I Learned Today

(Preface: I don’t have stage fright. I was performing onstage from the time I was three all the way through the end of highschool. I have no fear of public speaking. I know it’s unusual, but it’s true, it’s actually one of the biggest reasons I almost majored in education and became a teacher, b/c standing in front of people is so ok with me.)

1. I heart nonverbal clues. I am an absolute mess presenting online when I cannot see my audience.
1 1/2. My audience can’t see my blush when I present online, so I am willing to try to learn how to make this work for me, rather than running and hiding like I really, really wanted to.

2. The stress of presenting to an unseen audience can drive me to drink ALL THE BOURBON IN MY HOME.
2 1/2. There is startlingly little bourbon in my home! Either someone drank it all or someone didn’t plan ahead! Perhaps there is a clearly an imbalance between PowerPoint Perfectionism and Palliative* Procurement here?

* P-p-p-p….. I don’t know! I’ve been drinking and I typed in www.thesaurus.com and then “booze” and it told me it’s a synonym. The dictionary doesn’t associate it with booze at all. It must be colloquial.

Banter

Last night at the coffee shop…

Me: I got stuck in the women’s bathroom again. Can’t we get that fixed?
Rather Odd Male Co-Worker: I don’t think we can really blame the BATHROOM. I think the blame lies with you, oh member of the Weaker Sex.
Me: Eff you.

Later, I was in the back washing dishes.
Co-Worker: Oh, hey! I wanted to tell you–
Me: Jesus Christ! You startled me!
Co-Worker: Huh, you’re not the only one who gets into your own private world washing dishes. What’s up with that? Emily and Phoebe are like that, too…
Me: Are you implying that as members of the Weaker Sex, we have a zen relationship with dishwashing?
Co-Worker: YES. I think that’s it! Anyhow, don’t clean the bathrooms for a while, the men’s is… smelly. Very smelly. I’m just going to wait to use it…

Time passes, apparently the men’s bathroom remains VERY smelly (as a member of the Weaker Sex, I declined to check it out). My co-worker finally decided just to use the women’s.

He got stuck.

Co-Worker: I think we need a sign on the door in there. It’s tricky.
Me: <gloats>  <smirks>  <sighs in resignation at the truth…> Do you KNOW the trick? I mean, I don’t know an answer, just that it eventually opens if you jiggle it long enough.
Co-Worker: So make a sign!
Me: That says, “Jiggle”?!? In the women’s bathroom? Isn’t that harassment?
Co-Worker: Maybe we can just take the door down. Get a curtain!
Me: Curtain? Whatever, just take the door down and work off the honor system. Don’t look, don’t tell.

It’s amazing that any of the students with their laptops stick around. They’re probably just desperately hoping to get their degrees so they can be as cool as us…