Bathroom Graffiti

Graffiti on the back of a stall door on the women's restroom in the library--

You're:
-Hot
-Worth it
-Peeing
-Crapping
-Beautiful
-In charge of your own destiny
-Whole
-Sexy as fuck
-Made in god's image
-Enough

Gen X Grows Up

Holy Christ. What a day.

I didn't know what to think when Michael Jackson died. I loved him, and I mean loved him, when I was 13 years old. Thriller blew my mind. I had pictures, magazines, and god knows what else devoted to Michael Jackson plastered on my bedroom wall. Thriller was not the first album I ever bought, but it was the first that I really remember.

But then he became a freak. I can't think of any other way to describe him. Even now, seeing pictures of him from the late-90s to now creep me out. I can't help but laugh uncomfortably at both his visual image and the train wreck that his life had become. But then I look at pictures and videos of him from the late-70s and early-80s and I get teary eyed. He was so young. He was so adorable. He was so talented.

But there is no denying the influence he had on music and popular culture from the '60s until he died. Can you imagine a world without Michael Jackson? No, me either.

And then Farrah Fawcett. She's been ill. It was just a matter of time. But, like Jackson, imagine a world without Farrah Fawcett. Can you imagine a world without Charlie's Angels, without that poster. I can't.

I've been shocked at my own reaction to both of these deaths. Surprised at how sad I am. But I don't know if I am sad about the world losing them or if I am shocked and sad that I am old enough to be losing my childhood icons to cancer and cardiac arrest.

MSNBC posted an article titled Jackson, Fawcett Deaths: Bad Day for Gen X that does a good job of summing this all up. A quote from a fan summed it up well: "These people were on our lunchboxes."

Thanks for the Memories, Brent

Since it's pretty much a given that Favre will be the quarterback for the evil, ass-sucking Minnesota Vikings, the trash talking has begun--except now it is personal. This is the one of the new t-shirts from Sconnie.com:

Image from Sconnie.com

I emailed this to a Packer friend (and Packer-game-attending companion) this morning. She said she was considering buying one. Which lead to this conversation:

Me: If it wasn't so garish, I might. Of course, I would rather go with something like, "I hate you, you motherf*cker." But that might be too harsh for a tshirt.

Packer Friend: just maybe a little harsh...





Still.... that's the tshirt I want.

The Return of Canadian TV

I don't know why it took me so long to finally watch Canada's Next Top Model. It's hosted by Jay Manuel and isn't nearly wanna-save-the-worldy as Tyra's borefest has become. Or as comical or overblown or stupid--and I mean those things as bad, not good (there is a difference). Don't get me wrong, Canada's Next Top Model has its moments, but it isn't an ego fest where Tyra Banks refers to herself as "Mama" at least once an episode. Makes me wish I would've watched from the beginning.

And where the hell have I been when this show was on? I know Spectacle: Elvis Costello with... is a Sundance thing, but I didn't know it was on CTV, too.

I'd kind of forgotten about Canadian TV.... I need to start paying attention again.

Hayfever Peak

This morning I woke up with a headache so bad I couldn't move. I mean serious, serious headache. I fed the cats and went back to bed. I didn't eat, drink, or move until this afternoon. What caused the headache? Allergies. Stupid, stupid allergies.

Then I saw an opinion article in the local paper that said allergy season was at its peak.

1) No? Really? I never knew.
2) This is a subject open to opinion? Iran is in turmoil, the stock market plunged, the state government is cutting the budget even more and the lead opinion article is one that goes out on a limb to say that allergy season is at its worse?

That's journalism.

Father's Day

This time of year is always hard for me.

Dad has been dead for three years. Today is Father's Day. June 30 was his birthday. He died on July 27. So, for me, Father's Day starts a period where I try not to think about my dad or tell myself that it's been three years so it shouldn't hurt anymore. Or I go the other way and wonder why I was such a pain in my dad's ass. Or why he was such a pain in mine. Or I think about how much I'd like to talk to him on the phone. Or how much I would like to sit on the back porch with him, drinking one of those god-awful Busch Lights.

But mainly I wonder if I'll ever stop missing him.

Me and My iPhone, My iPhone and Me

I got my new iPhone Friday.

This morning I took it out to the AT&T Store to get a case and screen cover for it (I eventually ruined all the screen covers and had to run to Fred Meyer to get more; I liked the ones from Freddies more). While there, they told me that no way could I have a 3GS. They said it couldn't be ordered from AT&T and it didn't have an S on the back of it. (Somehow they didn't know that for the first time, AT&T was allowing people to both preorder iPhones online in addition to reserving them for in-store pick up.) Anyway, it came in a 3GS box and it registers with iTunes and my account as a 3GS, so as far as I am concerned, it is a 3GS. But if it weren't, honestly, I doubt I would notice the difference.

I have been playing with it nonstop since last night. I completely understand when people say it becomes an extension of their hands. I activated it as soon as I got home and then had to run to the post office to pick up a package. While waiting in line I was scrolling through my iPhone's various functions, checking my email, looking at Facebook, reading the news... I was completely absorbed.

Then the woman behind me nudged me. The guy at the counter had been trying to get my attention. He saw I had a pick-up slip and said he could run to the back and grab my package for me saving me from waiting in line with people mailing items. When the woman nudged me, I actually jumped. The iPhone had me in a trance.

I have taken a few pictures. If the subject moves in the slightest, the image is blurry. But the video option works pretty well. Before leaving for the post office, I was helping a friend load up her stuff--and her cat--for a cross-country flight and move. I took video of her and her semi-drugged cat wandering around her mostly-empty apartment.

So far I have downloaded apps for Quicken, Google, PacMan, Twitter, the NY Times, Pandora, and so many others. The one that got me excited more than any other? A public radio app. I can listen to any public radio station that broadcasts online. I know, I know... I could do that with my computer. But with the iPhone it's mobile. I can plug it into my stereo and listen. I can plug it into my car stereo. I can plug it into my speaker system in my office. This morning I laid in bed listening to "Whad'ya Know" (broadcasting from Memphis) on Wisconsin Public Radio. I almost, the keyword being "almost," listened to Mississippi Public Broadcasting, but decided I didn't need the aggravation. I am a public radio geek.

There was some general weirdness that followed the arrival of my iPhone, but I'm not going to get into it. Let's just say that the chaos revolving around the release of a new iPhone can sometimes be a good thing.

I debated between the iPhone and the Palm Pre. I was very close to going with the Pre, but ultimately went with the iPhone for many reasons. But there was really just one thing that pushed me to the iPhone side: when talking about their iPhones, three friends from three different parts of my life said, "It has made me a better person." I know it sounds weird, but after 24 hours with my iPhone, I understand. I drank the iPhone kool aid.

On a completely different note: Nature still hates me. And looking at the pollen forecast, it's going to really hate me next week.

More Randomness

I saw a headline that said, "New foundation, new stability." I thought it said "new stabability." One, I wasn't sure "stabability" was a word, and two, that just doesn't seem right. I was relieved to realize I had misread.

We had a "we've done good" lunch for our library today. There was a short presentation of photographs from the last year. I was in a couple of them. If you know me at all, you know I hate having my picture taken, and I wasn't that crazy about seeing these. And then a friend came over to me and said, "After seeing the pictures of you from September and looking at you now, you can really tell you've lost weight." Totally made my day.

I have been reading the Dispatches from a Public library over at McSweeney's. I haven't read this guy's book yet, but I plan to. Maybe on the way to ALA. Seems appropriate.

Nature still hates me and probably will for some time.

I need a serious nap.

Furminator

If you have a pet that sheds, go buy a Furminator.

Trust me on this one. Just do it.

Sniff Sniff Cough Cough

I had allergy issues when I lived down south. Bad ones. I never knew exactly what was setting them off. I usually went with "everything that blooms." I had some allergy issues before moving south, but nothing major. I had hoped when I left the south I could live without a daily dose of Flonase, Singular, and Claritin-D topped off with an inhaler.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to do that.

I've had some light allergy issues since I have been here. I've had respiratory issues due to stagnant air (what happens when you are surrounded by mountains) and some barometric pressure headaches. But my allergies have been under control. Until yesterday.

It hit me like one of those proverbial ton of bricks. I am hoping I can medicate with OTC drugs and that allergy season won't last as long as it did in Mississippi. But, let me tell ya, it may only be 60-some odd degrees outside, but I would love to be able to close my windows and turn on the central air to keep the pollen out. But not having central air keeps me from doing that.

I like nature but nature doesn't seem to like me.

Dear United Van Lines

Suck it.

Yours,
Yankee Librarian



Let me explain, United lost a box of stuff when they moved me one year ago. It never made it on the inventory list and it never made it to my new place. According to them, it never existed.

Why am I just now bringing this up? Because they didn't come back to me until a few weeks ago with a settlement. See, the box isn't the only thing missing. They lost a piece of my grandma's spinning wheel, they broke a glass, and some vintage TV trays. They are willing to admit they lost the piece of the spinning wheel, but the box that I estimated at having a value of about $600? Noooooo...

Why did it take so long? Part of it was due to a wrong phone number. My old phone number was put on the form by the person handling my account and I didn't catch it before I mailed the forms. Once we got that worked out, someone came out to look at the spinning wheel and the other items damaged. That was several months ago. After getting tired of waiting, I called to find out where the claim was.

This is when they told me there was no evidence the box was missing because there was no evidence of it ever existing, and that I was, in my own terms, shit out of luck.

The bastards.

I cried foul. The claims dude, from here on out to be known as the moron, said he would check with his manager and get back to me the next day. That was a week ago. Again, tired of waiting and tired of dealing with the moron, I called his manger and left a message asking that someone, anyone tell me where my claim was. Because you know what? It had been a year. And why did I have to keep calling to get an update?

The moron called me back and told me I was still shit out of luck. Because see, it was my responsibility that the all items made it on the truck. I congratulated the moron for working for a company that writes policies so tight that they bear virtually no responsibility when moving items cross country. I told him it was ridiculous to expect someone to be aware of every tiny bit of small print when they are dealing with one of the most stressful things a person can do: pack up their lives and move cross-country. And what makes it worse, this is coming from the company that a person not only pays to move their items, but the company a person trusts to get all of their items to their destination. This is all coming from a company who tells you, no, reassures you, that they are there to make your move smooth.

There was no proof, he said, that the box existed or that it was ever in the hands of United Van Lines. I saw it, I told him. I watched it being loaded. I have a picture of it. Not good enough, he said. It wasn't documented. My word wasn't good enough. I thanked him for calling me a liar.

I went on to tell him that the company he works for is unprofessional and irresponsible. He works for a company unable to hire people to do the job they are paid to do: getting a person's stuff from point A to point B. They are unprofessional and irresponsible because they put the blame on the person who isn't the so-called relocation professional.

United Van Lines, you are invited to suck it. I'm irritated about losing my Where the Wild Things Are action figures. I am. Really. But I'm even more upset about the items I can't replace: five years of work-related contacts carefully compiled through some hardcore networking; pictures drawn for me by friends who stopped to see me at the reference desk; postcards sent to me by friends; Christmas cards made and designed by friends; gifts from friends; photographs of my nieces and nephew; photographs of a trip I took to Toronto; magnets and other trinkets I bought on various trips; a small glass globe my bother gave me when he returned from China.

Yes, United Van Lines, that box did exist and it meant a lot to me. It was my stuff. It contained my memories. It contained things I can never, ever replace. Not caring enough to even attempt to take any sort of responsibility in this matter is an insult to me and every single person who gave me something that is now gone.

You know what, United Van Lines, sure, you can suck it. But really, I think you should take this opportunity to fuck off. Completely, totally, and royally. Fuck off.

(My only option at this point is to go into arbitration. They are sending me the money to settle the other claimed items and they will send me the arbitration paperwork if I decide to file.)