Mensa for Dummies

Unfriending Wars

2011-07-10T12:48:00.002-04:00

This clearly means that I am better, clearly, so it's actually good news!

I'll just say this. People who threaten suicide as a manipulative device to frighten their spouse into being hella crazy right along with them don't deserve much consideration.

Like no one has ever said those things before, especially not you; like they are any more than words, and like you weren't in the room with me when they told me I definitely needed a heart transplant. Like you don't talk about people in your family in a judgmental way any more or less than anyone else.

You're still in my book. 67 pages so far. Probably won't use your names though!

Imagine That, One Year Later...

2011-04-26T00:55:00.003-04:00

I just happened on over here, on the occasion of replacing our horrendously inoperable MacBook with a Windows PC -- this will take FOREVER in adjustment time -- and I giggled when I saw the date of my last entry.

A lot has changed, but I'm still wearing a 0 with a belt. We have a different dog now, probably largely because enough horrifying stuff hadn't already happened to us, and Different Dog (R_____) was just certified as a Therapy Dog! That made me proud, but also kind of neglectful in the S______ department. She would have been an awesome Therapy Dog.

I'm working on a Giant Cell memoir. I have 40 pages. J_____ is also writing. We plan to combine our thoughts and pages. I have learned via minimal research that before seeking out an agent, I'll need to actually write the entire thing first. That's probably for the better, end-result wise anyway.

Someone needs to get to bed for work tomorrow! Imagine, a whole year later.

Waiting in the waiting room is no fun waiting at all (or so)

2010-04-26T14:24:00.002-04:00

The good news is that I actually was taken down, as promised, first thing in the morning for my follow-up biopsy. It really was much more painful than usual, this time. What they do is they lidocaine up my neck and then go in through the vein that sits over the corotid artery, and they shove in this tube that measures the pressure around the heart, and then they take some tissue samples to check for signs of rejection or of giant cell myocarditis, the original disease that destroyed my first heart. It hasn't really ever been a painful procedure before, though. The lidocaine burns a bit, but then after that it's mostly just a lot of pressure and kind of a weird fluttery feeling that follows. I guess it's because my last biopsy was only just under a week ago; everything was still sensitive. But boy, I really wouldn't wish this kind of thing on anyone: not Madoff, not even someone violently horrible. Everyone is complaining about the rain today. I'd like to go play in it with my dog, S______. Results take about 24 hours.

Still in the thicky thick but feeling ok

2010-04-25T19:04:00.003-04:00

If you are one of the two people who might actually check this blog occasionally, then you know about the latest chapter in my ever-evolving medical history. I'd been home for three months, doing quite well, but am now facing a (supposedly common) setback and have been re-institutionalized for a few days, finding myself without access to basic liberties like getting a cup of coffee, taking a shower, or walking my dog whenever I wish. I'm only 32; maybe someday.

So tomorrow (sometime) is my follow-up biopsy to (hopefully) determine that my new heart is not being rejected by my overly excitable immune system. I'll have to wait 24 hours for the biopsy results, (and let's remember that we are on hospital time, here) and then - with an ounce of really well-deserved luck, I'll be told that I can finally re-return to my life at home with my husband and dog and our upcoming move to the upper west side. This will really hopefully occur on Tuesday; I'd hate to have to stay until Wednesday just because of delayed test results.

Before all of this ridiculously extreme medical stuff happened to me (even before my *other* ridiculously extreme medical stuff back in 2000, I'd always kind of felt that I had a novel in me. I might be a bit too self-absorbed for a novel at this point -- after all, how the hell can I invent characters while my own body repeatedly tries (and fails) to kill me? I can say with 100% certainty that I have a pretty decent memoir brewing. I might co-author this with J_____, since without his support I can't even imagine having gotten through the multiple surgeries and lengthy hospital stays.

Jesus, this is depressing.

Anyone listening?

On the Market

2009-10-25T18:24:00.002-04:00

Real estate listings are giving me a headache. I think it's time to do some real writing, instead. Thanks for the nagging emptiness, blog.

What I Thoight of the BlackBerry Storm

2008-12-31T12:51:00.000-05:00

... So much that I type this brief entry from my new BlackBerry Curve...

I'm sure the second generation will be much better...

Odd Usage of Very Old Footage

2008-12-15T22:13:00.002-05:00

After attempting to watch Dexter for the very first time in my life (even though it's been recording on the DVR for months) I found myself bored and flipping through the stations. I stopped on my local Fox affiliate (and thus you may now understand the prelude) and found the news up to Gov. Patterson's new budget proposal. He is required by law to pass a balanced budget, apparently, and these difficult economic times are going to be solved with revenue generated from a tax on sugared soda beverages and an increase in public college tuition. "Fox 'News'" then moved onto a nonstory about a Queens councilman whose home which is still being constructed and how the project has accrued some building violations. The little I gather about New York City building codes suggests that there are lots of violations that can possibly be had, even by reputable people, similar to how the cleanest, best restaurant can still rack up a few health violations. The story taught me nothing, revealed the stupidity Fox News plays to, and was not entertaining, either.

What I really enjoyed, however, and even found myself rewinding more than twice to view again, was the stock footage rolling in the background of the Gov. Patterson sugary soda babble. (Like diet soda is a health drink? I heard that the organization that did the study about whether diet soda causes cancer won't even allow their vending machines to carry anything with NutraSweet (tm), Splenda (R), or saccharin.

First, there was a close up of a bodega glass soda case with a sliding door. My eyes went right to the Pepsi. It was Pepsi in the white can with the horizontal lettering and the red and blue broken yin yang thing sandwiching it! Is this 1981? I laughed and laughed and looked at S______.

Then, probbaly less amusing to the general public than to I, during the Fox babble about public college tuition potentially going up, the camera panned the campus of Brooklyn College--- from. The. Stairs. The. Stairs. From. The. Upper. Quad. Looking. Down. At. The. Lower. Quad. Yes, my friends. Brooklyn College has not had an upper quad since 2001, the same years those very stairs were demolished.

Why would Fox still have this footage in the "Use during the 10 o'clock new segments that have no real-time photo" file? Weird.

First Impressions of the BlackBerry Storm

2008-12-07T17:03:00.002-05:00

1. A gloved hand will not activate the touch screen. I know that this is the case on "classic" iPods, but I do not know if this is so for the iPhone or iPod Touch.

2. The side of your face will hit the mute button during a conversation. No audible alert will inform you of this; the person to whom you are speaking will simply hang up on you.

3. The initial software update takes for effing ever to download.

I have no more initial impressions, as my software update is still downloading. More to follow.

Brick

2008-12-02T23:00:00.002-05:00

It wasn't until just this second that I remembered how she used to turn the oven on when we didn't have enough heat. Cooking something would have produced the same effect.

Imprint

2008-12-01T22:22:00.004-05:00

Our awesomely generous neighbor, M______ dogsat S______ while we were visiting J_____'s family in North Carolina over the long weekend vacation turned into an entire week off vacation of Thanksgiving. Naturally, she had her own Thanksgiving plans which turned out to involve returned S______ a full two days after we returned home. Faced with such a situation, I did not know what to do with myself on returning home from work today. I normally put my things down, taking extreme caution not to touch any surface in my apartment with clothing that also has touched any surface at my workplace-- I am not neurotic, in this regard, as I regularly touch MRSA and the entire family of antibiotic-resistant staphococcolus infections, and, more notably, all that causes the sensory aspect of hospital environs may have eeked out an existance on my fibers which I therefore all but wash separately in boiling water-- quickly skim 345 Facebook status updates, and take S______ out for her poop stroll.

Today, following the clothing ritual and a shower that started out pleasently hot but slowly cooled thanks to our boiler pilot that goes out at least twice a day (Does anyone know how to solve this issue?) I Murphy Oiled the wood furnitures, Swiffered the staging area (what J_____ and I call the uninsulated space between our two front doors where we throw and sometimes neatly file our shoes and bits of wet and dried leaves, and wiped down the kitchen counter. It was then only five minutes past the usual time I might find myself returning from a walk with S______, and so I stared at the wall for a few minutes. Tonight was improv night for J_____, so he would be of little help.

Awesome Neighbor M______ returned shortly with S______ and I was so joyously elated to see her that I didn't even offer to help M______ with her packages.

S______ and I just completed a two-hour love-fest on the couch. I watched a movie (A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints) which we'd Netflixed and I super-highly recommend, and she nuzzled, fetal pig style, all over my neck and chest. If I were allergic, I'd be itchy. I gave her kisses. We are passionate about each other again, and I am glad she is home.

On Vacation

2008-11-24T10:52:00.003-05:00

We're down in North Carolina, visiting J_____'s family for Thanksgiving. We have a fair bit of shopping to do while we are here, as well. I already got nifty, noise-canceling headphones at Super Target; the other electronic purchase we're dying to do involves certain touchscreen, Verizon-compatible phones. J_____ needs a winter coat to replace his Triple Phat Goose from 22 years ago, cool and short as it is.

Serious eating will occur. We will keep up the jogging, so maybe some cancellation of badness will occur as well.

Wedding Preparations

2008-11-17T20:19:00.004-05:00

With seven months to go until the wedding, I can say with near certainty that we are pretty well ahead of where we need to be at this stage, preparation wise. I have this confidence because I signed up at some wedding planning website right when we first got engaged, but thus far it's been useless. Every Monday, I find an email from them that says something like, "There are 7 months, 3 weeks, and 2 days until your wedding, Joclyn!" The time bomb is always followed by "tips" and "advice" such as "Time to start thinking about where you would like to hold your ceremony" (did that months ago) and "Time to insure that engagement ring of yours!" (that was done before I knew there even was a ring.) "Suggestions" that encompass only things I have already done and forgotten about are just "annoyances." It seems that the webmasters behind this operation are not familiar with New York City, Long Island, or much of the rest of this region.

A New York-based wedding planning website would not even take new sign ups from couples whose wedding is sooner than two years away. The emails it would generate would begin something like, "There are 4 years, 9 months, 6 days, fourteen minutes and eleven seconds until your wedding, Witchy! What do you MEAN you haven't had your final fitting yet?"

My makeup artist told me I should get my eyebrows "threaded" before the wedding. What is that? It sounds Indian and henna-related. It would be funny if I went ahead and booked an eyebrow threading, only to find out that what I had really done was reserved a camel with fancy face jewelry to carry J_____ and I into the reception following the ceremony. ("Hold onto his eyebrows so you don't get bucked!" the trainer would warn.)

Yes, I had my "hair and makeup trial" last week at a salon on Jericho Turnpike. Charges were dropped, but were again reinstated following the graffitiing of my face with an airbrush. I was so painted, and it felt a little silly, considering the fact that I don't really wear very much makeup. My hair was made to be all up and fancy, with jangly curls and such, and the following morning, J_____ helped me remove 197 bobby pins from my hair. They are sitting on the dresser in case I need to bring them the day of the wedding.

We have a DJ, a photographer, a florist, my dress, the bridal party 'fits, the venue, and the hotel. We theoretically have a rabbi, but he's not really returning our enquiries. I won't panic about that yet, but if things really get desperate, we could have J_____'s Born Again pastor friend perform the ceremony. It would be meaningless, spiritually, but it would be better than just a blank space in front of us under the huppah.

Presidential Haiku

2008-11-16T21:08:00.002-05:00

On His Name

Barack Obama
His middle name is Hussein
Whatchoo lookin' at?

On What He's Walked Into

First black president
He'll deal with Bush legacy
Glad it isn't me

On How Far We've Come

Close Guantanamo
America don't torture
Under the black man

On Taking Care of Himself

Already graying
Looking more like Bill Clinton
One-twenty-oh-nine

On the Loneliness of it All

No Blackberry Storm
For out new black president
Emails are secured

On His Family

Which ritzy prep school
Will his two daughters attend?
They're in the money

Is it Plagiarism of Me to Make a Post out of a Comment I Left on Bec's Blog?

2008-09-05T23:26:00.001-04:00

Hello, I have a newborn with Down's Syndrome and a 17-year-old who is pregnant and threatening to marry the other teenager who happened to impregnate her. Maybe I should spend LESS time at home and force my underage child to marry him, potentially ruining her life, for the sake of my political career.
My family can fend for itself as I attempt to manage the families of America, starting right smack in the middle of the uterus and extending all the way out to the books they read. Hell, I attempted banning a long list of books from Alaskan libraries, especially that dastardly James and the Giant Peach and the despicable Death of a Salesman so don't think I won't. I also tried to fire librarians who disagreed with me. Watch out for those Alaskan librarians!

I am a firm believer in creationism, and my beliefs are so strong that I also want new books printed that don't mention evolution, because, of course, it's "just a theory," and I don't believe current science "education" that teaches that a scientific theory invokes the notion of "testability" and "retestability," nor can I comprehend that, in contrast, creationism is "just a hypothesis," meaning, tangibly, that it has no place being taught in public schools as unyielding fact not to be questioned under penalty of... of...

I know! People who don't support creationism only and abstinence only can feel free to take a walk on the scandalous Bridge to Nowhere! I don't have much experience with big budgets, but a popular theory is that project, for which I did originally support financing, brought more political ridicule than Charles Rangel and the Rent-Controlled Apartments!

I believe that the war in Iraq is a "task from God," which means to say that not only do I believe that God writes my "to do" list each day, I also believe that God delineates tasks that involve sending 18-year-olds to die and have their limbs mutilated by explosions involving rusty nails in the desert for no reason. Well, there is at least one reason: BP sponsored my inauguration to the Alaskan governorship!

I am ready to lead and manage. Hell, who am I kidding? I can't even manage my own family's abstinence-only policy.

The F Train

2008-06-18T20:14:00.002-04:00

is, I'm absolutely sure, the product of a cruel joke. I ride home from work without air conditioning, daily. Today's ride home featured the expected swelter, and the added bonus of 35 solid minutes of inhaling what could only be described as homeless vagina odor. I didn't, of course, actually verify the source of said stench, and, interestingly, each time I thought I'd pinpointed the person responsible for the homeless vagina smell she (or he!) left the premises and the odor lingered at full strength.

I don't think that the odor emanated from a disembodied vagina without an owner, but rather from a person who has hygiene at the absolute bottom of their priority list, even below thinking about next winter's holiday season.

I threw up in my nose twice when I foolishly tested the air.

2 Loves

2008-06-09T19:41:00.003-04:00

Pictures from San Diego

2008-06-09T19:21:00.009-04:00

Weins Winery grapes.

Find the error!

Approaching the nude section of the beach by accident...

And swiveling from said section...

Karma and the Upcoming Wedding

2008-06-08T19:19:00.005-04:00

That this wine glass broke while I was emptying the dishwasher fills me with karmic emotion.
Today was a wonderful day. I met C_______ at Kleinfeld's this morning, even though C_______ felt like death. She was hungover in a way that would certainly preclude my own keeping of an appointment, and yet even put on a cute outfit for the occasion of my first ever bridal dress trying--on session.
Only rich people buy wedding dresses at Kleinfeld's, as the addage goes. C_______ and I went for the "sample sale." The sample sale was for rich people.
"What's your budget?" was the natural first question, as we were guided toward the $4,500 section of the "sale." We pretended to pick through the racks for a few seconds, "too prommy; too beige; too shimmery" and made our way down to the $799 section of things.
Boy, was that end a mess.
"Why would anyone buy a gold wedding dress?"
Because it's $799?"
Long story short, I bought a dress. I understand the insanity now! I had no intention of buying a dress; we were only there to look, and yet when I tried on this amazing dress (which the saleslady brought to me NOT from the sale rack -- and yet somehow less pricey than much of what I'd seen -- I got that same tingly feeling as when I walked into my condo in DC for the first time. I. Just. Knew.
I'm not a bastion of self-esteem, and so I really don't think I've ever looked at myself in a mirror, proclaiming "I am gorgeous!" This dress did that for me. The saleslady said "Oh my God!" C_______ said "That's your dress. You have to get it. Oh my God." The accessories lady put her hand over her mouth. A consensus was reached regarding the crowd's response.
"Everyone will be in tears as you walk down the aisle."
Well, that's not really ever been my story, but I did it. I fell for it. Unreal.
I had to put down a 60% deposit, and following a rarely successful conversation with my mother, she agreed to pay the balance when the dress is ready.
Later on at work (yes, I did work for 2 hours on a Sunday in this heat) C______ texted me to tell me again what an amazing job we did; she is so happy for me; I seem so happy, yadda etc.
Back home, emptying the dishwasher, I felt some resistance on pulling out the top rack. I fiddled with it a little bit, removed the plastic travel salad bowl-- the one with the separately enclosed dressing area-- and felt and heard something give, followed by the disturbing shattering glass sound. I realized it was a wine glass when I saw all of the stems in the row, and felt really sad for a second. "Oh, please don't be one of the winery glasses from our trip to San Diego."
Best story ever. That broken wine glass, the one on the top of this post, was from J_____'s ex. They'd had a really expensive set or something, and she'd gotten to keep it. When he left, he took just that one with him, I guess hoping that one day she would be upset when she noticed it was missing.
What are we going to do at the end of our wedding ceremony? Break a glass, of course. From one shattering to another.
At the same time of the glass breaking, WFUV was tuning in the background some bluesy wedding music, so called.
Good day this was.

Background Screaming

2008-05-14T22:03:00.001-04:00

is a level of insanity.

HOW small is it?

2008-03-14T22:46:00.004-04:00

J_____ and I just finished watching Jersey Girl and became somewhat transfixed on the main menu "root" screen. We stared at the rudimentary map of New Jersey, trying to name where we thought different parts of the state could be. It was a short-lived game because the only places we've ever heard of in New Jersey are Hoboken, Fort Lee, Red Bank, and Closter. We thought that maybe the places called Orange were on that map somewhere also, but everyone we know who lives in Directional Orange has a thick New York accent, so they might actually be upstate.

Once we found the four cities of New Jersey, I commented that New Jersey is so big.

Without missing a beat or a shrug, "Size of Israel."

Ha! I love how J_____ turned that one around.

Dear US Airways:

2008-03-12T19:49:00.003-04:00

I recently had the misfortune of finding myself booked on US Airways Flight xxxx from New York to Raleigh. Original departure time was set for 7:25 p.m. on Thursday, February 14, 2008. Arrival at the airport, check-in, and security all went smoothly, and while the food court fare was edible, what was sorely lacking in quality was well made up for by the fact that we would be in Raleigh soon enough.

To our extreme disappointment, on arrival at the gate, we bore witness to the on-screen departure time literally changing before our eyes from 7:25 pm to 10:10 pm, and then 10:46 pm. No announcements had yet been made, so we—for some reason – assumed that the chatty ladies behind the desk at LaGuardia’s Gate 1 would provide us with an explanation for the delay.

“Maintenance,” followed by loud teeth sucking and zero eye contact was the retort from a US Airways employee I had clearly annoyed by daring to ask a question.

“What does that mean?” wondered the few people around us who also noticed the screen change.

“I dunno. Oil, something maybe like that,” posited the US Airways person.

“How can we be certain that if we wait here for 3 hours, a flight will actually arrive to take us to Raleigh?” The man behind us with a bushel of roses was obviously distraught.

The US Airways ambassador had had enough. “Well do you WANT it to be canceled?” she nastily asked no one in particular.

We were made to feel as if it is typical for people to spend over $700 on something—in this case a pair of plane tickets-- and then be treated as if we are low-lives who have asked for something for nothing. I have gotten better customer service in the Port Authority Bus Terminal at 3 am, and the cost of that ride was $69.

Hours later, we happened to notice that the departure time for our flight was now listed as 11:10 pm. 2 bathroom trips, a laptop movie, and a very expensive snack later, the time had inched up to 11:13. An unhelpful gate change announcement for no reason in particular seemed to yield the next addendum to departure time, 11:20 pm.

Despite my fiancé’s pleadings to not waste my time, I again attempted to obtain an—oh, I don’t know—an explanation? Empathy? God forbid an apology? Quickly, I realized, eye contact really is a premium commodity in US Airways Land and I would not be getting any that evening.

“Excuse me, “ as I approached Gate 7. “Is it normal for an airplane to be delayed for four hours without explanation?” I can’t say I was surprised by the response.

“That’s not my gate.” Actually, she said “Das nah my gay” and pointed to Gate 6, perhaps indicating that was where my answers lie. I turned to her esteemed colleague at Gate 6, but as I began the painful walk to even more frustration, that Gate 6 representative walked toward, and then past me, and furiously whispered in the ear of the Gate 7 lady.

Clearly, US Airways customer service is of another league, and my fiancé was correct. I should not have wasted my time.

The time on the board never inched past 11:20, but as we all still sat in our ripped, broken gate chairs at 11:25, I dared not ask again, lest I again incur the wrath of a cruel and indifferent US Airways representative.

We finally boarded, still sans explanation, at 11:35 and took off shortly thereafter. The welcome announcement on board unbelievably made no mention of the 4+ hour delay, almost as if we were perhaps even finding ourselves airborne ahead of a scheduled midnight departure.
On landing in Raleigh just over an hour later, the stewardess actually apologized! She said “We sincerely apologize for the delay.” I almost fainted.

I understand US Airways’ slogan is “Fly With Us.” Well, we certainly tried. The word “with” does generally connote togetherness, and not the presented image of bitter and angry airline employees. The message we took from this experience is more like “Fly From Us.”

Sincerely,

Joclyn and J_____

We got results! We were given $75 each toward future travel. Now convincing J_____ to let us fly out to California to meet and visit his other brother L__ is my next challenge. Perhaps I will write a letter.

I've said for years that OT will give me something to write about. Here goes. First in a series.

2008-03-11T14:36:00.002-04:00

The crotchety woman down the hall worthy of detestation despite the generosity of her time screams out loud over the telephone at car service dispatchers. This was not part of the job description. She does raise my ire, but only if I think about it and certainly not for long. Even in the moment she suggested that I purchase hand sanitizer rather than dare wash my hands in the lounge from which she screams, it was all I could do to muster a reaction.
She screams from across the way, most of the day in my line of sight. The children appear to fear her and freeze up as she moves toward, albeit an aimless move. They do not know her name.
Jonathan rolls on the floor, and Justin kicks balls wildly. Allan improves his aim, and Christian remains unpredictable. My workspace is a tiny section of a stairwell, and despite this the crotchety woman decorates the windowsill with holiday figurines, the fragile collectibles designed for late-at-night home shoppers without Internet access, and also possibly for the desperately lonely.
I marvel daily. “Let’s not aim for the Burl Ives snowman,” or “that heart within arm’s reach certainly looks breakable.” “Is that kneeling leprechaun violating a church/state separation agreement?”
I did not need, but nevertheless learned from the brief clover lecture. The three leaf variety represents the Trinity, but four leaves as good luck was made up.
I anticipate friction.
“Now who’s in the bathroom?” I fart on purpose and slow down. She tries to bump into me on my way out, but I am 30 and nimble.
One morning, I greet her with such and she does not respond in kind. I silently laugh in her face.

I Guess They Just Closed to the Public

2008-01-21T18:50:00.001-05:00

Tekserve just called to say that my computer is ready. I can pick it up tomorrow. (But physically, can I?)

Displaced

2008-01-21T13:31:00.000-05:00

My MacBook is in the hands of Tekserve repairpeople. (Well, not at the moment. Today, being Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday observed, it is fairer to estimate that my MacBook is on a shelf at Tekserve.)

Tekserve, brought to the HBO subscribing world's attention during the episode of Sex in the City where Carrie's PowerBook died-- and was it subsequently resurrected, or did she end up purchasing a new one?-- is a pretty excellent establishment. I have no idea whether the Apple Store is closed today, but I think it is nicely socially aware of a store that would certainly generate decent revenue on a day which finds many folks such as myself home from work to remain closed, on this one of few federal holidays deemed optional.

(Granted, my working at a hospital days taught that all holidays are potential mandatory time-and-a-half assignments, and Veteran's Day was NOT one of them, for some reason, but I had never before heard of Veteran's Day being one of the optional federal holidays, nor have I since, but in general I think the one holiday where most people bask in the delight of suspended alternate side of the street parking regulations but still put out their trash, forgetting, is today.)

And of course, as I go on about how wonderful it is to recognize MLK by closing for business, I do wish that today counted as one of the 4 business days it will take to replace my hard drive with one that possesses function. I cannot wait much longer.

Some weeks ago, my MacBook stopped working well, and started acting like my first Internet-oriented computer had in 1997 whenever Windows 95 would misbehave. It froze unexpectedly; it would not boot up consistently, and, frankly, it surprised me. My previous Apple computer, an iBook, lasted 6 years and-- I promise-- froze up a grand total of 4 times. That computer still does live, actually, in the living room of a friend's mom so she too may enjoy the pleasures of email, albeit with a 7-year-old laptop monitor that has to be positioned just so else it go dark.

Disk Utility claimed all systems were go, and Tekserve told me that my problems were software-related, and I was to reinstall the operating system, first backing up all of my files. I did as I was told, and yet the problems persisted, although on a smaller and slightly less annoying scale. (I actually did not immediately do as I was told. I could not find the discs that came with my computer, and so I purchased "Leopard," the latest version of OSX which, as far as I could tell, is exactly the same as the older version except with a touch of kitsch.) I backed up as much as I could onto an external hard drive. (Some files just wouldn't go over, for whatever reason.) I then installed the new OS, and began transferring files back. An empty computer does not seem very homey. I first moved all of my Word documents, and then tried to pull over my music files. That's when I knew things weren't OK. It just didn't seem right. Not every file transferred, and some arrived with garbled file names.

I waited until the system crashed to again reinstall Leopard, but I knew that this was the beginning of the end. Disk Utility still was of no assistance, and so when I did find my original system discs and reinstalled them OVER Leopard, I imagined that I would soon find myself again at Tekserve.

This time, Disk Utility was at least mildly utilitarian. It listed the name of my hard drive with red letters, a first. Clicking revealed "S.M.A.R.T. status = failing" or something like that. A helpful window also suggested that I replace my hard drive with one that works. Terrific!

I have a feeling that Disk Utility just didn't pick up on this failure the last few times. Thank goodness for the AppleCare warranty plan. New hard drive: priceless, er, free.

Until 4 business days or so from whenever, I am displaced.

I am using J_____'s Dell desktop, currently. Can you say "ucchy" and "Why are so many AOL things embedded into practically every application even though no AOL user has ever existed on this computer?" The fan whirs loudly; windows blend into one another; (You have to give it more time before you start clicking on things, explains J_____) and despite granting Gmail permission to "remember me" multiple times, it does not remember.

It is probably positive that I am not remembered. If I were, then perhaps my login information would be captured by "spyware" and published in some creepy usenet forum frequented by guys who don't get out much.

We are Doomed

2008-01-07T19:44:00.000-05:00

Prediction: Obama becomes the democratic candidate in the next presidential election. Huckabee takes the republican ticket. The people living in the inside, non-coastal parts of our country that no one talks about turn out in droves to vote against the black guy and for the homophobe.

We are doomed.

4 more years! yeehaw.

Dishes

2007-12-15T22:25:00.000-05:00

Tonight I did the dishes manually because I could not summon the energy to empty the dishwasher.

I never even had a dishwasher in my life before November of '06 when I purchased the now rented-out DC condo. Now my tenants have my dishwasher.

I did also-- twice now-- become accustomed to having a garbage disposal-- an InSinkErator to be exact while residing in the District of Columbia. I don't have one now, nor does anyone I know in NYC, because they used to be illegal here. I believe I read it had something to do with sewage regulations. They are no longer illegal, and someone missed their market by not going around door-to-door with garbage disposals for sale.

Dishwashers and garbage disposals are two appliances never thought of when never previously encountered.

Emptying my dishwasher in DC was not that bad. It is a scaled-down-in-size model for a scaled-down-in-size condo. The one in this apartment, while definitely circa 1987, is tremendous and almost all of our dishes fit into it.

It cleans the dishes, for some reason takes two hours, and requires a real time commitment to empty. It is a pain in the ass.

A Yid Who Wears Pants

2007-12-15T19:18:00.000-05:00

I work as an occupational therapist for a contract agency in NYC. My week is split among three different assignmenst: two public elementary schools, and one pediatric therapy clinic in Borough Park, Brooklyn. (Although I do have disagreements with and several puzzlements over the arrangement and certain statements within the article to which I link, it might at least paint a picture in an unfamiliar head.)

The elementary schools are pretty much what one would expect. I work in the hallway, schlep my own supplies, and most of the parents do not know that I am working with their children. (I almost used industry lingo and said "servicing" but that sounds out of place and unlike what it really means when taken out of context.)

Borough Park is really something else. Most of the kids I treat speak Yiddish fluently and English as well, except they do it with a strong Eastern European accent and cadence, as evidenced by the following two examples.

Boy, 9, explains how he would like to employ my assistance in building a set of train tracks with Legos. (He had never before seen Legos, so he said.)

Me: How can I help?
Boy: (Holds up a Lego piece, and indicates instructively with the index finger on his other hand.) "You take such a piece..."

And the second example, which is really my first example, not only because it occurred earlier than the other one, but because it is the one I have been telling everyone about, involves an 11-year-old girl who was very hesitant to work with me. I completely understood. She had been coming to the clinic for years; the whole place had been recently remodeled; she was having trouble in school, and her former therapist didn't even work there anymore. I let her walk around and pick her own things to do. She sat down at the computer-- not as much of a novelty as I'd hoped, as she does have a computer at home just like ours, one that is not connected to the Internet. She then started to cry. Through her tears, I heard her complain that I'm "not even Jewish!"

A-ha! I had found an in.

"Wait a second. I AM TO Jewish. ("Am to as in are to and not as in too Jewish."

She stopped actively crying and eyed me suspiciously. I received elevator eyes. A moment or two of decreased oxygenation passed, and familiarity registered in her eyes. I made sense to her.

"Ahh." (Remember the accent and the cadence.) "My speech therapist last year too was a yid who wore pants."

We all have our categories, for sure.

One thing I did that I am not sure whether or not to have feelings about is that I lied to a different Chasidic girl and her sisters. They wanted to stay in OT beyond the end of their session, which was also the end of my work day. I explained that I would love to let them stay but I had to go home because I was starving and that dinner was waiting for me.

"Who made the dinner?"

which was, of course, immediately followed by

"Are you married or did your mother make the dinner?"

I glanced down at my engagement ring and felt that there was no acceptable answer. I could have just responded with "purple" at that point, because my lifestyle choices probably would have made just as much sense to them.

"Yes" indicating that I am, indeed, married, feeling that far more question-quashing to say than "No, I am not married, but I do live with my fiance, J_____, with whom I also share a bank account and, of course, a bed, and sometimes we even touch when I am menstruating."

I lied because if I hadn't, her mother would have called up the very next day, or even possibly that very evening to either:
A. Speak very quickly and loudly in Yiddish
B. Speak very quickly and loudly in English once she realized it was me
C. Pull her child from my caseload
or
D. Inform the community via outdated media of the clinic's propensity to hire people who
will corrupt said community

I don't like to lie. I compromised my ethics to shield those girls from what lies beyond their ethics. I definitely would have not lied to Chasidic adults over the same matter.

De-vu-ja

2007-11-18T18:08:00.000-05:00

As I'd been saying, I was a bit under the weather all of last week with a cold, came home from a routine MD appointment, and pretty much started puking and fluing immediately on entering the apartment from the visit.

I use "fluing" because was under the impression that I had contracted influenza. I may have, but it was definitely the nastiest variety I've experienced. (And no, I did not get a flu shot this year, although I have done so every year since beginning a health profession. The move and new job got in the way of typical approaching winter schedules.)

On the evening of my puking and fluing, I found it difficult to breathe. My chest and lungs ached, worse on breathing, but also painful at rest. I'd not ever experienced this before, and I was also scarily unable to catch my breath, so J_____ and I went to the ED at Methodist in Park Slope.

I will never again visit an emergency room unless rushed there via ambulance due to something gushing or failing or imminently life-threatening. I was, at first, seen right away secondary to "chest pain." I was taken into a freezing room for an EKG and then, after verifying that I had insurance (which was difficult considering I just started my new job and hadn't received my card yet) was told to wait in the "green chair area" for a doctor. We required an escort to find said area, since no one with an ID badge knew what we were referring to, but once we found it (it was labeled "Asthma Center" or something like that) there we (well, I) sat for five hours. It was five hours of shivering and sweating and wanting to just be asleep, all with J_____ hovering over me since there was nowhere non-patients were allowed to sit. It was also five hours of nary an update, a query, a checking in on, nothing. There was no one to ask, and I was getting sicker, so we left. We were there for five hours, and no one from the green chair area had been seen except for one older gentleman who supposedly was done when we first arrived but just needed someone to take out his IV. I later found out that some people wait in that ER for 27 hours!

So we went home, and I started to get a little bit better. I wasn't getting better in the typical rhythm, however. I've had the flu before.

to be continued...

flu

2007-11-13T12:50:00.000-05:00

I am so sick with the worst flu ever. It's from the filthy kids I work with now. First thing in the morning, dirty fingernails. Connect 4 piece? Let me put it in my mouth!

I haven't even had a chance to write about all the wonderful things that have happened: turning 30 was assuaged by being offered a shiny ring whilst atop an oceanliner; we escaped DC; we had a week's worth of fun at watching people gorge themselves into diabetic complications.

I've got to go rest in the meantime. I promise an update in the near future. I read a headline on Drudge Report about how Bloggers are "striking" to show solidarity with the Hollywood writers, or stagehands, or whoever. So maybe that is what I am doing.

Nice News

2007-09-29T11:18:00.000-04:00

J_____ and I are returning to NYC! We're starting exciting new jobs, and are signing a lease on our new apartment in Windsor Terrace!

More to follow... in the meantime, I have to go work my LAST half-Saturday.

:-)

(Anyone have a tenant for us? Stainless steel, granite, jacuzzi, DOG friendly...)

http://washingtondc.craigslist.org/doc/apa/433950506.html

"Look at" TV

2007-09-11T21:56:00.000-04:00

Little is more irritating than this vernacular. Speaking it almost implies, "Little happens between my ears. I see no difference between a motion picture and a sofa. I hear; I do not listen. I react; I do not process. I look; I do not see."

In other news, I thought only 8-year-olds rode bicycles on the sidewalk. Why do so many adults in DC do it? It's completely dangerous and retarded.

Hearing Things

2007-08-05T17:13:00.000-04:00

Today's final column in The New York Times Magazine, Wall of Sound, reminded me of a couple of experiences.

1. I once saw an allergist who told me that when he was dating, he wouldn't even meet the girl if she owned a cat. I was walking down P Street to Whole Foods one day, telling this story to someone on the other end of my cellular phone, and I made the stranger walking alongside me laugh out loud.

2.One of my nursery school teachers thought I was hard of hearing, apparently because I spoke very loudly. On more than one occasion, she sneaked up behind me and whispered my name to see if I would turn around. I always did.

The flu in July?

2007-07-31T21:20:00.000-04:00

Has this happened to anyone else? I am all bodily achily and feel awful. I actually wasted a sick day on being sick today, and probably will do the same tomorrow. Of course, if this were France, my vacation time would not have been affected, but, of course, I live here. These colors don't run! Booyah!

I'm going to try and drink something now without having to rest my left (facial) cheek on the bathroom floor afterward to try and control the sweating. One of J_____'s friends said that she hopes I'm not pregnant. No fetus could survive this, I am confident. It is nice to be able to say that pregnancy is at least a remote (albeit thus far unwanted) possibility, rather than only possible if I were carrying a Messiah Baby.

I had to sit out my condo association meeting secondary to this illness tonight, as well. As K_______ across the hall said-- roughly-- "I've never seen so many white people with so much to complain about." From unauthorized satellite dishes to unreturned phone calls to barbecue curfews, there's really no accurate method for anticipating the hot topics of the evening. I'll just have to wait for J_____, incidentally, our new condo association VP, to return and fill me in. He's been gone a while. I will hold off on calling the pollice.

I am very tempted to go into work tomorrow despite my frequent bouts of needing to collapse onto the floor a la ET. I wish to demonstrate dedication. I had also planned on calling in sick at some other point in time, like for a spontaneous NYC visit or something. Well, that's what you get when "Paid Days Off" encompass all possible reasons for absence.

My sister R_____ is having a belated Bat Mitzvah celebration in a couple of weeks. I IM'd my modern orthodox friend T___ about this, to which she replied "Those wacky Reform Jews!" I don't know that my family is affiliated at all, though. I can sound out Hebrew painfully slowly, though.

I'm back into Big Love. Tres creepy.

Touro College

2007-07-19T17:31:00.000-04:00

This is not surprising at all.

(Lifted from Karl's blog )

How is Michael Vick different

2007-07-17T22:41:00.000-04:00

from any of the stereotypes portrayed in Oz, except for the fact that he happens to be a "professional" football player rather than in a maximum security prison? He has the same disregard for life; the same noncomprehension of what one with a brain might do with tons of money (See Chris Rock's diatribe on rich vs. wealth,) and the same "animals are the same as rims, gold teeth caps, and tinted windows" mentality that make him a psychopath. Someone who kills dogs en masse is absolutely capable of killing a person or two. J_____ just told me that Michael Vick's brother has been in jail. Shocker. I wouldn't be floored if his father figure has a record, as well. Interesting, I think, that neither American football nor dogfighting are actually sports, but rather thuggy, violent activities designed to reap undeserved money for people who often lack basic literacy skills or drive for an actual vocation, not to mention morals and that which is otherwise basic for coexistence in society.

If the NFL doesn't ban this guy for life without paying off his contract (hmmm... if I were convicted of a felony, I'd lose my job AND my professional license) I can't wait to see PETA boycott the NFL and its sponsors. Howard Stern and his girlfriend are big animal rights people as well. Remember what he did to Snapple...

OK, my new favorite Sopranos theories...

2007-06-17T18:31:00.000-04:00

http://www.bobharris.com/content/view/1406/1/

I just got back from a weekend of camping and am soooo sunburned and nauseous and cold and hot. I love 3-hour naps, though.

What may have happened on the Sopranos as told by a girl I work with's boyfriend

2007-06-11T17:28:00.000-04:00

This is my favorite Sopranos theory.

"So here is what I found out. The guy at the bar is also credited as Nikki Leotardo. The same actor played him in the first part of season 6 during a brief sit down concerning the future of Vito. That wasn't that long ago. Apparently, he is the nephew of Phil. Phil's brother Nikki Senior was killed in 1976 in a car accident. Absolutely Genius!!!! David Chase is truly rewarding the true fans who pay attention to detail.

So the point would have been that life continues and we may never know the end of the Sopranos. But if you pay attention to the history, you will find that all the answers lie in the characters in the restaurant. The trucker was the brother of the guy who was robbed by Christopher in Season 2. Remember the DVD players? The trucker had to identify the body. The boy scouts were in the train store and the brothas at the end were the ones who tried to kill Tony and only clipped him in the ear (was that season 2 or 3?).

Absolutely incredible!!!! There were three people in the restaurant who had reason to kill Tony and then it just ends. This was Chase's way of proving that he will not escape his past. It will not go on forever despite that he would like it to "don't stop". Not the fans!!! Tony would like it to keep going but just as we have to say goodbye, so does he."

I don't have a job

2007-05-15T20:26:00.000-04:00

that allows me to sit at a computer watching music videos and reading blogs all day, so I'm really late to the world of YouTube. (Even if I wasn't on my feet all day, my organization's internet usage policy prohibits and actually tangibly blocks access to most things that most other people do all day.)

But anyway, watch this.

Extortion?

2007-04-15T22:45:00.000-04:00

Is that what you'd call it if you learned that Al Sharpton had his entourage call national sponsors of the Don Imus show to make sure they were pulling their ads? Do his way or else?

Why does the yellow line

2007-04-11T19:48:00.000-04:00

only go its new, extended route when it isn't rush hour?

I went to the gym and elipticized. Then I went to board Metro Rail and a woman holding a stack of newspapers shoved one in my face and said "This is a new newspaper called The Onion."

Then I came home and J_____ asked if he had a fever. I said I'd check, but he'd only let me leave the room after I promised that my checking would not involve sticking anything inside his rectum.

I just found out that the word "nappy" used to be considered a very racist thing to say.

So Don Imus is a fuckface. I still don't think he should be "fired." They're just words.

As an aside, I'll just point out that I am so excited that I also just found out that Reverend Al does do things besides make mountains out of molehills!

I am sorry, Reverend

http://www.gothamist.com/2007/04/03/sharpton_50.php

This Imus Thing

2007-04-09T17:36:00.000-04:00

Understand that I don't think the Don Imus is listenable, and also understand that I have a tendency to first question a charge of "racism."

The "ho" word is used frequently; I hear it multiple times every day, but not nearly as often as I hear the "n" word. (And the "n" word is not "nappy," although I hear that word quite often, too. The big "n" word could be mistaken for the American version of the British/ Australian "mate," as in "I enjoyed dinner with my *mate/"n" word* by someone who is not from around here.

(Isn't there a very popular song by a black person that has a line that goes something like "All these bitches and all these hos say what?" Am I allowed to sing along? That song really tells a story worth repeating, you know. )

My understanding of the word "nappy" has until this point been that it refers to the typical texture of a black person's hair. Does it suddenly mean something else? And if it is so offensive, why do so many black people say it all the time?

Furthermore, can we all just remember for a minute that Al Sharpton is famous because he defended and manipulated an desperate, attention-seeking woman into lying about being sexually assaulted by a white man? Shouldn't he have been "fired" (or the Reverend equivalent of losing his smicha?) When did he and Tawana Brawley serve prison time, exactly? Oh, right, never.

Double standards give me a headache. There are so many good things this "Reverend" could be doing with his show, since he has certainly proven that he has the power to rile.

Did you put this teddy bear here?

2007-04-04T00:00:00.000-04:00

I'm in J_____'s brother's guest room and have some worry. I pulled back the blanket (to get into bed and feign sleep while J_____ and M______ talk about how much better I am than the last one) and there was a teddy bear under the blanket that definitely grew excited by my arrival.

It lifted its arms up expectantly and went "Prrrrr?" I started laughing and put it on top of a suitcase. But then it kept making different cutesy noises and lifting it's arms It didn't stop for so long that I actually pulled out my computer to write about it.

It stopped now. I will try my best not to touch it again.

American Idol

2007-03-20T22:47:00.000-04:00

I just watched this show for the first time. It certainly is not bred from good taste in music. "Passionless" comes to mind. Do those judges have experience with music beyond teeny bop pop?

I'm with The Howard. I just voted for Sanjaya thirty-two times (while doing something far, far more important simultaneously, of course.)

(It's actually kind of ironic that Howard Stern motivated so many folks to vote for the least talented singer. Howard's taste in music has always been pretty Flavor-of-the-Month and non-authoritative.)

J_____ and I just had a funny conversation:

"The same people who think the Supreme Court should pick presidents like American Idol."

"The same people who think Kid Rock wrote 'Cats in the Cradle' like American Idol."

"The same people who don't believe in science like American Idol."

"The same people who spend all their vacation days at Disney World like American Idol."

"The same people who like a 65/35 content/commercial ratio like American Idol."

"The same people who bring Charles Shaw to a party like American Idol."

"The same people who pick Budweiser when there are other options like American Idol."

"The same people who get the Filet 'o Fish when they are on a diet like American Idol."

"The same people who think that opposing the war means the same thing as saying 'Go fuck yourself' to a soldier like American Idol."

"The same people who say "freedom ain't free' like American Idol."

"The same people who get excited over a 15-piece bucket for $9.99 like American Idol."

"The same people who saw Titanic more than once like American Idol."

"The same people who live in Brooklyn but have never been to Central Park like American Idol."

"The same people who think the movie was better than the book like American Idol."

"The same people who think Paris Hilton isn't a hotel like American Idol."

"The same people who still like 'Lost' like American Idol.

and...

"The same people who hate Howard Stern for throwing the vote like American Idol."

My Dog Seems to Have a Nipple Growing Behind Her Ear

2007-03-18T15:27:00.000-04:00

It's either a black-eyed pea or a flesh-colored nipple. M_ calls her "Old Ten Tits" anyway, but this is probably different.

I'm taking her to the vet tomorrow, but what could it be?

"It's Not Just Walter Reed?"

2007-03-08T20:27:00.000-05:00

I don't know how long it will take for people to realize that "It's Not Just the VA" either. The Washington Post's website search feature is down at the moment so I can't link to anything to point you there if you haven't yet heard about the horrific VA healthcare situation, but much of what the Post was portraying is the situation at regular hospitals as well.

One quote (paraphrase?) from one in the Post's series stands out in my mind. A soldier patient's mother complained that hospital staff would "argue in front of my son over who was going to give him a bath!"

Do only people who work in hospitals know that cruel, mean people (the same people who will argue over bathing a patient will also leave a patient on a bedpan for 45 minutes, make him wait endlessly for pain medication, and are probably also from the same stock that actually makes fun of a patient for wearing a diaper) have weaseled their way into the status quo?

The Washington Post said that after their "expose" on Walter Reed, they received hundreds of letters from veterans with complaints about VA health care from around the country. Have they really not received a single letter about civilian health care?

Am I bathroom obsessed?

Sometimes, the Title is the Hardest Part

2007-03-03T21:47:00.000-05:00

I was shown around; I was. I saw Santa Clara, San Francisco, Napa, Sacramento, and maybe even some other places that sound stolen.

One thing that is so sexy about J_____ is that his friend C____ (S_______'s brother) is the winemaker at one of the Napa wineries, so that granted us drinking from barrel privileges and impressive discounts.

(see above for proof that J_____ is sexy)

Another thing that happened that was more of an example of humor was the time spent at the Rockstar Supernova concert. I'd never seen the show, let alone heard of it, but this program played an important role in the once-a-week evenings of a certain group of friends in northern California. Prior to my attending the live concert, I had a private viewing in M___'s garage-turned-home theater so I would be up to speed with the season's highlights, and the apparent horror that The Girl wasn't picked to front the crappy band. (I added the crappy part, but didn't want to say anything before the concert.)

Eh, I'll write more about the awful concert tomorrow. Tengo mucho sueno.

Uber Alles

2007-02-13T16:33:00.000-05:00

California! OOooober Alles!

So maybe I don't know as much about the Dead Kennedys as someone who has been to a show or two, but I do have at least one of their CDs, and I also cannot believe that it actually will take 8 hours to reach the west coast on Friday, but that's where I'll be if you are looking for me.

Not that reaching me will be any different. My cell phone number and email address will remain the same; I'll just be retrieving messages 3 hours earlier than you sent them.

And so what if I told you I come home and straight away pour myself an Absolut and cranberry? Sex on the beach? Not in this "snowstorm." ("Aahh! There might be an inch when it's all through!" Who am I imitating? People from here who aren't from Buffalo don't understand weather patterns, it seems.)

I desperately need to write more. I don't need to necessarily update my blog more often, but since writing is one of those things I thoroughly enjoy and would unabashedly enter into a contest over, I thoroughly need to simply integrate it more into my routines. I go to the gym often enough, at least when it isn't freezing, and so I just need to work words into the mix as well.

The exterminator -- Adam -- is braving the weather, barreling his truck (once stolen) down 16th street so he can come and complete the repairs he initiated on my entry closet door.

Ha. Use of the word "entry" in this context would make some people think "Joclyn has an entry closet; therefore she has an entryway, and thus must have an impressively sized condominium home."

(I learned the phrase "condominium home" from the wise minds behind real estate listings and full-page New York Times Magazine advertisements; it was created by the same people who list their listings as "apartment homes;" these terms suggest that via real estate purchase one acquires something somewhat other than a tangible structure, and not just because an apartment or a condominium is generally smaller than a house, but something more along the lines of the 1988 George Carlin special What am I Doing in New Jersey? when he bemoans the adjective "homeless" since it's simple houses that people need to survive.)

Adam the Exterminator just left, and he also left a wine bottle preserver/re-sealer vacuum contraption because he drank the bottle of wine that he brought for me last time he visited. I suspect he might like me like me like that. I'm actually certain, but not as certain as my new DC friend N_____ was when her parquet floor salesman actually called her post-fact and asked if she wanted him to come fuck her on her new floor.

But it wouldn't even matter if I wanted Adam the Exterminator to act like N_____'s parquet-floor salesman because I haven't even really begun to write about J______.

J_____ is why I'm going to California Uber Alles, but just to visit. I've only been to the left side of the USA once, when considering schools for OT. I thought about attending the University of Southern California, but then I learned that the other acronyms were "University of Spoiled Children" and "University of South Central," neither of which are really my scene, nor were they four years ago when I was applying for graduate programs. The real reason I didn't go to USC was that it was pretty much going to cost me in the long run the same that Columbia would, except in California Uber Alles I would have also needed to purchase a motor vehicle. I probably would be a better driver today had I selected that as the thing to do, but it wasn't what I chose, and so I couldn't really change any of the after-effects now even if I wanted to.

I am being shown around. I will be taken places. I will be given a tour of Some Winery in Napa Valley even though I hated Sideways. (That guy never would have had that lady in the first place; gimme a friggin break.) I like wine, though.

Gotta say, though, I'm pretty happy. And he's Jewish! (Who saw that coming?)

Anna Nicole Dead

2007-02-08T17:16:00.000-05:00

A terrible tragedy, no doubt, but, um, what is she famous for again?

Again With the Exterminator

2007-01-24T22:36:00.000-05:00

The best part about owning a condo has so far been the fact that there is a building management company that comes to fix things just like how a super does in Brooklyn. (Also, because my building is a new renovation, the builder is responsible for all repairs for two years.) So it's sort of like renting except now that I have more money I can't swap to one of the two-bedrooms across the hall without losing oodles of money for reasons I full understand and can wrap my mind around but cannot explain without sounding like I don't know what I'm talking about.

It was to my absolute disappointment that I briefly feared I housed mice.

(There may be a previous mouse story or two on this weblog.)

I heard noises that may have been telltale mouse noises.

My dog, S_____ and her friend, B___ (who was visiting) barked and flipped out a little bit at the possible telltale mouse noises. The origin was the washer/dryer area (which is behind a louvered door that is not clear or see-through.

I ran into the hallway.

B____ and S______ began crying. I pounded on C____ and C____'s door, Unit 12, for some reason. (What would they care?/do?) I immediately regretted knocking, because what if they answered? What would I say?

They were home.

"Ahhh... ummm.. how do you... uh... how do you guys feel about mice? I mean, have you had them? I mean, can you come see?"

Long story short, one electrocution trap and two exterminator visits later, I find that I don't have mice. I do, however, provide safe haven to birds in my dryer vent.

I do? I meant I did.

I did? They dead. hahahahahahahahahahaha.

Suckers.

And the exterminator fixed my alarm system. And my closet door. I think he likes me.

No room for that. He's not my type.

But... more to the point... have I mentioned on this weblog that I have a boyfriend? No? Well...

Here I is!

2006-12-23T17:57:00.000-05:00

I've been offline and out of touch but I'm connected and in the market for a new computer. That's right; I've been using the same iBook for five years.

I am dogsitting and need to run for now, but I am ready to commit myself to regular bloggy updates of my goings on in the coming days.

Gut Yontif!

It is far less gross than it is disappointing

2006-11-15T20:40:00.000-05:00

when someone I work with, whom I generally have a modest deal of respect for, walks out of the bathroom, leaving it to me, replete with pee all over the seat, the space in between the tips of the "U" of the seat, and even the floor right in front of the bowl.

"in" blogs?

2006-11-13T21:44:00.000-05:00

In a successful attempt at procrastinating rather than packing for my upcoming move to stainless steel luxury, I googled myself.

I googled various variants: my full name alone, my full name + NY, my full name plus DC, my first name + NY, etc.

It was on googling "Joclyn NY" that I found a link to "www.inblogs.com/joclyn." Following that link led to an internal server error of some kind, but the google reference showed that it was at least at one time a link to my (this) blog.

I then directed my browswer to "www.inblogs.com" without any backslash. Um, apparently my blog is banned in India, China, and Pakistan?

Maybe all blogs are.

1-800-Y-RENT?

2006-10-15T21:39:00.000-04:00

No, I'm not moving to the Poconos to enjoy a 6-hour round trip daily commute between the mountains and New York City, but I can apparently afford to buy a condo in Washington, DC.

Even though I have nothing to put down and staggering student loan debt?

And credit card debt?

And uncertainty about my LOS (that's hospitalese for "length of stay") in the region?

Apparently so.

Hmmmmmm.

A Song by Living Colour

2006-10-15T21:36:00.000-04:00

or, A[n] [Open] Letter to [My] Landlord,

Hi D______,

I'm sorry to be so blunt, but the mouse situation is pretty unsanitary at this point. The Orkin folks have been coming once a month since I moved in, but we still have mice. I never would have even thought to look *inside* the oven for a mouse, and so I ended up broiling one the other day. The guys upstairs were really, really nice and offered to take the mouse out of the oven for me, but there is still fur and mouse organs stuck to the inside of the broiler. While they were busy trying to scrape out the dead mouse, they noticed that the bottom of the oven is completely littered with mouse droppings. That's unbelievably disgusting. I have no idea how long it'd been like that, or how many times I might have turned the oven on, mouse, droppings and all.

I'd really prefer not to move because I do remember that the main reason you let me move in with a dog was that I was going to stay for more than one year, and I know that I signed a 2-year lease, but that's the type of thinking I'm doing right now. I'd like to either have the oven professionally cleaned or replaced, as I'm *sure* you would want for yourself as well.

Thanks,

Joclyn

Little Mousie Birkenau

2006-10-11T22:42:00.000-04:00

It's probably too late for a "graphic content below"-style disclaimer, but I am once again in the market for an apartment to let.

I'll let the headline allude to my discovery on flipping a $9.81 certified organic certified Angus steak this evening.

Let's just say I have awesome upstairs neighbors. And a slumlord for a landlord. And no appetite. Ever. Again. And a happy dog. I gave her the steak to split with my upstairs neighbors' dog.

I deal with pretty gross things much of the time. Ever smell a bedsore? A really bad one? One where you can see muscle? Things like that make me need to leave the room for air every now and again, but tonight's events made me need to sit down, hold onto the table, wet my lips to no avail, take a full five minutes to be able to swallow, and actually call my landlord in the midst of a hysterical, full-on I'm a Girl Whose Thoughts, Words, and Actions are not Dictated by Reason or Anything Even Close, Therefore-style fit.

I want immaculate, stainless steel luxury. I don't care how many roommates I need to afford sanitary conditions. I'm there.

Don't YOU wish you were a high school teacher?

2006-10-11T22:35:00.000-04:00

A good friend wrote this. I am nauseous for said friend. Said friend has also received countless memos dictating the arrangement of desks in the classroom and font and style and contents of hallway bulletin boards. I am nauseuous-- oh, wait, I said that already.
On Priorities….

Upon leaving school on Wednesday the 11th, I was surprised to see a (non-optional) invitation (more like a summons?) to a 2-period school assembly being held this Thursday. The assembly is a pep rally to honor a *RANDOM NYC PUBLIC HIGH SCHOOL* student-athlete who has been selected by the *INSERT NAME OF TEAM HERE*, to play football (and presumably attend school?) I was happy for the student, when I originally learned of his remarkable achievement, as I understand that this particular organization is extraordinarily selective, and that he would be receiving honors and accolades from the media, local politicians, and of course, Snapple. His selection for this particular distinction speaks volumes about our dedicated athletic department, and the teachers and coaches who work tirelessly within it, in their efforts to encourage outstanding athleticism and sportsmanship amongst our students.

My happy, fuzzy, idealistic, congratulatory haze was broken when I realized that I teach very advanced courses during both of the periods for which the rally has been scheduled. An oversight? Usually these things are scheduled for after-school, and are attendance-optional…after all, how much “pep” can be “rallied” while answering a summons?
The rally is sending the wrong message on two levels. One being the prioritization of athletics over academics…two periods lost for twenty-odd teachers and classes in the building translates into a lot of lost instructional time, and last I heard, teachers were being penalized for failing to provide bell-to-bell instruction, even on the last days of the semester (or year), or on a barely-populated half day. We’re not even allowed to throw an in-class party anymore, to celebrate an accomplishment or milestone in the classroom, because it would detract from minutes of instruction. But here we are, precariously at the end of a marking period, traditionally a time fraught with testing, (and students who need to be prepared for testing), being compelled to pause learning and commence cheering.

The other reason that I think this rally is sending the wrong message is that the celebration and adulation of an athlete is WONDERFUL…if it is balanced fairly with celebration and adulation of a scholar. Students at *RANDOM NYC PUBLIC HIGH SCHOOL* believe that “if you’re not an athlete, then you’re nothing”. We can blame some of this ideology on the media and the sneaker-hocking, ticket-selling industries that have ensnared the minds and hopes of our young people. But if we worship athletes exclusively, to the exclusion of scholars, then we can blame ourselves as well. Do I think that the rally should be canceled? Of course not. I’m not the grinch. I think that what this student and what his teachers have accomplished is note-worthy and deserves to be praised. I just wish we could have an in-school, attendance-required assembly honoring all of the students who receive college scholarships, who perform astounding feats of academic performance, who are role models because of their GPAs, and who even take time out to tutor other, less gifted students…”no brainiac left behind”, right? If we gave equal time and respect, publicly, to both athletes and academicians, if we change our priorities, I bet we would see a school-wide change, even a tiny one, in students’ attitude towards all that fancy book learnin’.
Rah-rah-rah.

Washington Deluxe and Vamoose Bus Aren't the Same Company?

2006-09-07T22:32:00.000-04:00

I've traveled with both of these companies many times, and was just wondering why Vamoose Bus is not picking up from DC suddenly (They now stop in MD and VA, which is closer than Brooklyn is to Manhattan). The NY Times said something about a rabbinical court ruling between Vamoose and Washington Deluxe, but wouldn't a rabbinical court have a problem with Vamoose Bus operating on Saturday? What's the difference? Greyhound operates between DC and NY. Will there be a rabbinical court ruling against them, as well? Fung Wah? What if I decide to drive people between DC and NY myself? Is that allowed? Why doesn't Vamoose take Washington Deluxe to actual court as rebuttal to the charge that Vamoose "stole" Washington Deluxe's route?

I honestly thought that Vamoose and Washington Deluxe were the same company. Their websites look exactly the same; even the fonts and the description of the duration of the trip is exactly the same. And when you arrive in NY after being driven from DC by either, a big, black guy or that one really crazy West Virginia white guy who always has his wife on the bus as well, Hasidic Jews magically appear through the doors of Penn Station and board the bus to collect everyone's tickets. I do like Vamoose better, though. Vamoose has usually had a better schedule, with the last bus leaving on Friday at 5:30 or 6, rather than 4:30 with the other guys. I remember Vamoose showing better movies, and I've usually made better time with them.

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/09/07/nyregion/07buses.html?ref=nyregion

Vamoose

Washington Deluxe

/throws hands up and then looks slightly disappointed

2006-09-03T23:08:00.000-04:00

My dog's the black one. Bella, my charge for the weekend, is the other one. Along with Bella comes S____ and M____'s nifty condo, complete with rooftop grill. Long story short, I went and invited some people over for meat. I ended up expecting 9 folks, 2 dogs. It ended up only being 3 folks (including myself) and 2 dogs.

I have lots of food and a little bit of effort wasted. Can you really not refreeze meat?

Here are some more pictures.

Bondi Beach and gluten-free pizza in Sydney

Sleeping In

2006-08-03T06:00:00.000-04:00

is something that S______, my lovely dog, has never had trouble doing. I return from Australia, sleep the following day until 1 pm, and she doesn't even stir when I groggily pull myself to the bathroom. Now it is 5:56 am, I am going to be at work in 1 hour, and I have not slept one teensy bit since 1:30 pm yesterday. S_____ is fast asleep. This should be fun!

I am SO getting a latte tomorrow morning.

2006-07-18T22:56:00.000-04:00

You may realize through your e-sleuthing skills that, at least accoring to my previous post, I should be en route to the other side of the planet by now. Wait, you may be actively reasoning. "Maybe they have wireless internet on international flights now."

Well, I'm responding, I'm sure they do for some folks, but I am not privy to whether or not Qantas does, as I am typing on my computer at my red peanut desk in my crappy apartment in NW DC.

Utt..utt..utt! Just pause a minute and agree with me that if there were ever an occasion justifying the purchase of a cup of coffee costing more than a can of coffee, this might be in the running to be named such an occasion.

I think I'll put cinnamon on top and ask the bored coffee man to put the sugar in first so he (or I) can stir it in without messing up the foam.

I'm currently the everything hurts and I'm really thirsty sort of tired.

Granted, 2 hours between my flight from Baltimore-Washington International Airport (which is not even CLOSE to Washington, but I guess the acronym BIA is already in use even though those people are NOT Indians) to LAX and LAX to Sydney might have been cutting it close, but it wasn't too close for Orbitz's processing purposes, and even when the first delay of my BWI-LAX flight was announced, I was assured that we were still running "a full eleven minutes ahead of schedule" and I'd make my connection.

I wish Columbia Heights Coffee sold foodstuffs I could actually eat with my frickin' latte. You'd think everyone on Earth was gluten-free intolerant. How about some cereal, people? Oh, only bagels and pastries? I'll just nosh on a square peel-back button full of jelly, thanks.

At 8:45, a full hour and 25 minutes after our scheduled departure time to LAX, there was still no plane to take me to my next plane. (I also learned via the cell phone that M_____ would be spending the night in San Francisco on her own dime because her flight from JFK to Frisco leading up to Frisco to Sydney also didn't make it out on time)

I once saw some dumb TV show that was really just footage resulting from a camera having been pointed at the customer service desk of Southwest Airlines for seven months or some other length of time that was long enough to allow for some excitement to ensue. All the show was was people yelling and demanding things and losing luggage and being drunk, but it also almost always ended with vouchers. Vouchers for tickets, nights in hotel rooms, snacks at the food court, ya know, a little something us occupational therapists who work at the only hospital on Earth that has a mascot call SERVICE RECOVERY. (I'm actually authorized to give a patient up to $50 for such a recovery. I'm not sure how I feel about introducing cash into a care environment, but it is a good illustration of something having to do with customers.)

Show in mind, I told the counter people that I could just wait until whenever the plane to LAX arrived, and I would just stay in a hotel out there and they could pay for it. I'd get the next once-a-day flight out (over? across?) to Sydney tomorrow.

I am way too deadpan and not at all mean enough to get things for "free" from counter people. I was told that hotel rooms are not paid for if the delay or missed connection is because of weather.

I know, I DID tell them that the whole chain of events could have been avoided if not for the "mechanical problem" that caused the original 30 minute delay. "Nope" the counter people said. "We were ahead of schedule even with that delay."

Wha? Does that have something to do with time zones or physics?

"Why don't I just go home?" I asked in response to being asked. "Do YOU live in Baltimore? Because I certainly don't. I know how to spell 'snitching.'"

OK, I didn't say that last part. But if you know anything about Baltimore -- which would differentiate you from me entirely-- except for one little thing I saw on the news once-- or maybe no wait someone told me that they heard it was on the news once a long time ago-- there's a grafitti campaign by the local thuggy people that you should not tell on them to the cops over something that's none of your business like when they shoot someone for no reason. They let you know not to do this by writing "Stop Sniching" on everything all over the city, especially on surfaces within the city's mass transit system.

What the counter people DID do for me was to rebook my Qantas flight to Sydney for tomorrow night, and get me on a noonish flight to LAX departing from REAGAN National Airport which is actually in the same municipality as my residence. I actually had to take Amtrak to get to BIA. It took 30 minutes. 30 minutes on top of the 30 minutes to get to Union Station. How is that a local airport? Amtrak? Don't you take that to New York City, or maybe to Florida if you hate to fly?

I'm pretty excited to spend too much on a cup of coffee. I hope I sleep really well and wake up with a caffeine headache that just begs to be itched.

UPDATE Well so now naturally it turns out that my Qantas flight was delayed three hours. United left to LAX three hours late as well. So I would have made it. But when I called Qantas, the Australian counter person said the flight was still on schedule to leave on time. Were that the case, I would NOT have made it.

I'm not sure what emotion I should be experiencing, but it's not coming.

Australia!

2006-07-13T20:36:00.000-04:00

That's right, she nodded. I'm heading down under but not in a filthy way-- not that there'd be anything wrong with that-- on Tuesday. This, naturally means that I arrive on Thursday, but I think it gets made up on my return, when I arrive before I left, but only hours earlier.

I'm going to be presenting at a conference in Sydney, and please don't go hating me. I am paying for it all myself, and I hemmed/hawed/hesitated, but I figured why not. Would I go at some proverbial next time? At least now I have "reason" to go.

I'll be there with my friend from Columbia, M_____. I don't know if she knows I blogged her a la French novel, or if at all.

In the past couple of days and weeks, I made the acquaintance of a guy. It's hard to grow "jealous" when logging into the online dating community site and finding that he has logged in as well, because isn't that what I'm doing? But if I cancel my subscription then I'm a stalker, right? It always gets twisted around to the woman somehow doing or not doing something, doesn't it?

And yes, I DO have a patient who was recently totally disabled on a Harley, and yet I got on anyway. It was so dope!

I'm starting to really like much of here.

Worthy Thought Block?

2006-06-14T18:37:00.000-04:00

I have been in a nasty mood lately, and sort of worry that blogging in that mood will only make me feel nastier moodier.

I was walking my dog and a woman rounded the corner with five of her own. She began to shy away in horror, but I assured her that my dog is very friendly. She approached. My dog, S______, did her whole low to the ground growl/play/bark with her tail practically wagging herself in half.

The woman who was walking five dogs said "She doesn't look very friendly" and began yanking her dogs toward her. I was on the phone with F____ at the time, and without even looking at the woman of five, I said "You have five dogs and you don't know what dogs look like when they are playing?"

Then later on when I was getting on the subway with bags and bags from Whole Foods, my stupid piece of paper with a magnetized strip on it that DC tries to pass off as a "metrocard" somehow became demagnetized. Rather than let me on, one of the dozens of miserable WMATA employees I've encountered proceded to say things to me like "Well most people who take trains know not to put their farecards near their cell phones." And then I said to her "You never heard of being nice to someone?" And then she made me miss the train. They only come every 19 minutes at that hour.

DC is so bleak. There are entire neighborhoods sans tree, and crime is very random.
The stereotype of gangsta wannabe kid who lives in the projects in NY is that times 20 here. I ACTUALLY saw a man sticking a needle into his own leg sitting on the steps of the National Postal Museum.

And this may be why I haven't blogged so much lately. I am going to make dinner and just sit and read for a while.

How Did I Miss an Entire Season of ER?

2006-05-18T23:41:00.000-04:00

Did anyone else know about this? Well, I somehow managed to stumble upon the final episode. How friggin ridiculous.

Spoilers follow:

Kovac is intubated and tied to a gurney with duct tape. The heavy guy who makes all the jokes and answers phones or something was shot. Abby is pregnant but fainted after she hit her head during the gun battle. The nurse who broke Kovac's heart was kidnapped by her ex-husband who is trying to escape from prison and had already kidnapped their son before shooting up the ER. His friend's girlfriend posed as an EMT student so she could orchestrate the hostage situation.

You know, obviously ER "jumped the shark" when Romano was crushed by the helicopter, but it hasn't even been quasi-quality since they killed off Anthony Edwards with a brain tumor.

Now THAT'S Personal

2006-05-15T21:31:00.000-04:00

I put an ad on Craig's List.

Inundated, I say. Inundated. One guy Googled me (thoroughly) and found this here blog. I hope I wrote him back. I tried to delete the crappy ones and reply to the promising ones.

I am so tired. I'm going to bed now. Yawn. My sister has a blog, by the way. (She is 12.) She says "fuck" so much! I love her. She uses "fuck" as representation of all the parts of speech.

I Can't Help but Listen

2006-04-21T22:58:00.000-04:00

to the conversation going on upstairs. My neighbors are having a party. Miguel, who I had pegged as gay, used to think he is asexual, but there is a woman in his life who may be his soul mate. She has lived in Europe, and he never had anything like that. He has sex with both men and women, but there is only passion when he has sex with women.

He knows her.

He knows her smells and her colors.

"I saw something in the window at Banana Republic and I would love to see it on you... but I would also like to tear it off of you."

When Miguel said this, she didn't get freaked out. That is because she knows his soul.

Miguel would never keep anybody by force. She knows his soul.

The other man Miguel is speaking to is speaking very effeminately about someone he calls his girlfriend. Miguel has made this person sad.

Miguel's woman was a priestess in her past life. "They have told her that." And they told Miguel that as well!

Miguel always told himself that if he were thin, he would dress like ______ (missed the name.) "And that's her idol! How does that work?"

Miguel's gay friend's girlfriend is in France. "I have put her in the palm of my hand but she has not choen to fly."

"She wants to be embraced. Embraced by truth."

Miguel's gay friend calls his girlfriend his "little girl" and she loves that. He kisses her on her forehead.

Gay friend's nickname is Nini, and gay friend's girlfriend is Jojo. Together, they make NiJo. They have special NiJo Powers. One night they were just having fun and Googled NiJo. NiJo is a palace in Japan and they both have always wanted to go to Japan!

Miguel thinks that is SOOO beauuutiful.

Enter third party with an offer of a cigarette.

Exuant

Let's just say my current domicile was not meant for multiple families.

The Email That Got Things Done

2006-04-17T21:56:00.000-04:00

or, How I Finally Obtained a Working iPod

Subject: Re: Your iPod Shipment Inquiry, Dispatch; Follow-up

Dear Jocelyn, (sic)

Thank you for selecting AppleCare Repair Service to service your Apple product.

Currently, Apple is investigating the status of the shipment of your product from Apple's iPod repair facility. Our records indicate that your iPod shipped via DHL on 3/22/2006 using tracking number ****. We expect to complete the investigation within five business days and will contact you by phone or email with the results. If we locate your iPod, we will promptly return it to you. Otherwise we will send you a replacement iPod*.

If you would like to provide an address different than that in your original service request, please reply to this email.

We appreciate your patience and assure you that we are taking every step possible to resolve this in a timely manner.

If you would like to check the status of our investigation, call 1-800-APL-CARE and choose the option for status on a previously scheduled repair. Help is available seven days a week from 8:00 A.M. to 8:00 P.M. (CST).

Best regards,

Apple Service

* Pursuant to the terms of Apple's warranty, extended service contract, and Repair Terms and Conditions, a replacement iPod may be new, used, or refurbished.

and so I then responded...

Hello,

I called the AppleCare number and was told to instead reply to this email for status of the investigation.

You might notice that this stolen iPod was my fourth attempt at obtaining a working iPod through the extended warranty program, so this now makes my fifth. Is there a point where Apple just breaks down and realizes how ridiculous this is as well and just sends me a new one?

My original iPod froze and would no longer update despite numerous attempts at restarting and restoring. The iPod replacement arrived smashed, as though it had been stomped on, with liquid crystal dripping from the screen. I immediately called AppleCare (in front of two Fed Ex employees who saw me open the box) and was assured that I would not be held liable for the damage, but that I had to resend it through DHL. Two days later. the smashed iPod was returned to me, since "this type of damage is not covered under the extended warranty" even though I called AppleCare from the FedEx facility where I retrieved the smashed iPod. The next replacement iPod began malfunctioning and in the same way that my ORIGINAL iPod had, so I (reluctantly) mailed that one back to you, and in return I have received an empty box with a letter announcing the arrival of my replacement iPod.

DHL claims that I signed for the empty box at 11:30 or so on a day that I was at work. I did not sign for this package, and I am not the person who cut the tape on the box.

Sadly, for whoever stole my iPod, it is engraved with my name.

Can't I please just have a working iPod already? Perhaps this one can be sent in better packaging, so as to avoid stomping damage or easy access for theft by disgruntled package delivery people or the like.

I realize that there are at least 3 iPod models more recent than mine, but I still paid $300 for it only about a year ago and I also paid an extra $50 for the less than impressive AppleCare extended warranty service. I am certainly not about to buy a new one.

Again, this is attempt number five. I've had to deal with over a month of commuting without my $300 MP3 player, not to mention several weekend trips back up to New York that are only slightly unbearable without an iPod.

I have been an Apple customer since the Mac Classic II (which still works.) I bought an earlier model 15 gig iPod and gave it to my sister (that one still works.) I have been using my iBook since 2001 (after some RAM upgrades and a bigger hard drive installation, that still works, as well.)

For my trouble, and since it appears that the attempts at sending me a refurbished iPod direct from Shanghai have failed, I'd say I'm owed at least an iPod Photo.

Sincerely,

Joclyn Gordon

and then they wrote...

Dear Joclyn, (no "sic" needed)

Thank you for selecting AppleCare Repair Service to service your Apple product.

We apologize for the delay in researching this issue. However, we are still investigating the status your shipment. We will contact you by phone or email with the results as soon as they are available. If we locate your iPod, we will promptly return it to you. Otherwise we will send you a replacement iPod*. We have taken note of your email and will try our best to honor your request.

We do appreciate your continued patience and assure you that we are taking every step possible to resolve this as quickly as possible.

Sincerely,

Apple Service

* Pursuant to the terms of Apple's warranty, extended service contract, and Repair Terms and Conditions, a replacement iPod may be new, used, or refurbished.

And then they sent me a 30 gig video iPod! Whoo-hoo!

This Theivery is My Fault

2006-04-17T05:50:00.000-04:00

Somoene stole my sneakers, hiking boots, and granny-style shopping cart. They were right outside my door. The thing is, my entrance is around the back of the house. To access it, you have to open a wooden gate, walk through the backyard, and down a few steps.

Balls, right?

Yeah, but DC is ghettoer than NYC. I should have remembered that when worrying about where to keep shoes in my apartment. People have prisonesque doors in front of their regular doors here for a reason.

I'm (finally) getting renter's insurance.

Shit, I liked those sneakers and boots. They weren't cheap. How can I maximize my shopping time without a granny cart?

30 Gig Video iPod

2006-04-16T22:03:00.000-04:00

Yes, it's true. My strongly worded email got me a 5th generation iPod. Why didn't I just go to an Apple store instead of all the trips to FedEx in NE (which is the new SE, I am beginning to suspect.)

And let me be (at least) one of the first music nerds to point out that "Fourth of July" by X was the closing credits song on tonight's episode of "The Sopranos."

The DHL Delivery Man Stole My iPod

2006-03-29T20:56:00.000-05:00

Well, someone did.

My FOURTH replacement iPod in less than 6 weeks supposedly arrived the other day. Thing is, see, the box was empty. The three layers of foam were there, or course, as was the letter announcing the arrival of my replacement iPod, but the tape had been cut and the iPod removed before my approval.

Good thing a signature was required.

Apparently, records indicate that I signed for my package at 11:24 a.m. on Friday. Of course. I was at work and at home at the same time. I'm good like that.

Apple is "investigating."

I'd say I'm owed a NEW iPod at this point.

See earlier posts on CrApple.

P.S. The stolen iPod is engraved. It says "Joclyn Gordon. Sedaris is my dog." Let the fucker try and sell it on eBay. It will just take a curious Googler to get the guy charged with some sort of mail tampering, probably a crime that can land someone at Guantanamo these days.

Unless DHL isn't considered mail. Well, I at least hope that they fire him. But I don't hope that his children starve. They didn't do anything. But they probably will. Someday.

On Mice and Men's Pastimes

2006-03-18T11:25:00.000-05:00

I am sending my iPod YET AGAIN back to Apple. The second replacement is now freezing and crashing and displaying a folder with an exclamation point just like what the original was doing.

FUCK!

On a more hideous note, I have mice in my apartment. There are droppings under the kitchen sink and next to the washer and IN THE KITCHEN DRAWER and I saw a mouse HANGING FROM THE CELING and swishing it's filthy tail. (Someone at work said "Are you sure it wasn't a BAT?")

Did Sedaris even appear interested?

Perhaps if I'd captured the mouse myself and coated it with peanut butter...

My landlord is on his way as I type with steel wool, spackle, and traps.

Best quote of the week from the landlord: "Hasn't the exterminator been coming once every other month?"

Um, no. Apparently, said exterminator has been going to the tenants upstairs.

I wanna puke.

Would this be a fickle reason to move? I am masking my disgust quite well.

When I was in high school we had mice one time when they were ripping up the subway tracks down the street. I was listening to Howard Stern in a half state of sleep one morning and told myself that the pulling on my sheets was Howard waking me up. It was a mouse! In my bed!

Commence father chasing mouse around apartment with ski pole.

Applecare Schmapplecare (saved by Google's cache)

2006-03-11T20:11:00.000-05:00

this somehow disappeared from my blog. I knew it existed, and Google helped me ressurect it

2.18.2006
Applecare Schmapplecare

Akin to the gaps in the lines of communication between the NYPD and the FDNY, the branches of Apple customer service apparently operate on different radio frequencies as well.

My iPod froze beyond thaw a couple of weeks ago. No amount of pressing the click wheel button along with the menu button, switching the hold switch back and forth, restoring the software, or even saying "Come on, Mrs. Overpriced Turd Muncher" would get the screen to display anything other than a folder icon with an exclamation point and an unhelpful URL for Apple support.

Luckily, I had been previously bamboozled into bleeding out another $50 for the "Applecare" extended warranty protection plan. Baruch HaSHEM I chortled. Apple will indeed care for me.

They were so nice. Not even 24 hours later, a DHL box arrived in my mailbox. Inside was some foam and tape and instructions on having DHL return my now useless $300 item. tres convenient! I just needed to return the package to my mailbox and a man in a yellow uniform would ensure its safe delivery to California.

A week later, since FedEx will only come when I am at work, which makes sense, since the person attempting delivery is also at work, even though work for him might be my front porch, I ventured all they way over (I do not use direction because I don't know north from south in DC yet) to the New York Avenue FedEx facility to get my iPod. (The turnaround time is so fast because it's more cost effective for Apple to just send you a different iPod-- which may or may not be new-- than fix the one you send back.)

My package emerged from behind the counter.

It kind of looked a little bit stomped on.

In front of horrified FedEx employees and everyone behind me, I opened the box.

Here's what was inside:

(as soon as Blogger works itself out, a picture of a smashed iPod, rainbow screen and all, will appear here.)

I immediately called Applecare, right there standing at FedEx. They asked for the serial number of the damaged iPod. I was like, "Um, it's the serial number of the iPod you just sent me." I couldn't very well turn it on to find the serial number in the "about" menu since the screen was bleeding liquid crystal, and since I had cataract surgery I can't read the tiny inscriptions on the backs of things anymore.

I didn't feel blind because the Fed Ex employee who was helping me couldn't read it either. In fact, her response to her own attempt to read the teeny inscription was "Oooh (short 'o') lord Jesus." (She was black.)

(She was also maybe 40, tops. Old enough to be able to read small things as long as they are big enough to read, I told myself.)

Fed Ex employee #2 was able to read it. My favorite part of her rendition of the serial number was when she said "Q as in 'queer'."

The Applecare associate told me that I could not, as I pleaded, simply mark the box "refused" or even repackage it right there and return the stomped-on iPod damaged by a stranger's stomping to Shanghai. I would have to wait for another DHL box to arrive in my mailbox and repeat the entire process.

"Well you will certainly put in your remarks on my account that I didn't do this, right? I am certain that Applecare extended warranties do not cover stompings, accidental or otherwise."

I was so assured. (Not so as in very. So as in reference to what I just said. Does that make "so" the subject, grammatically speaking?)

I repeated the return process.

My upstairs neighbor, an Hispanic gentleman who had a very loud party last night, greeted me with a package this morning! It was from the secret Apple address that they use on packages so the whole world doesn't go "Ooh, there's an Apple product in there. Let's stomp on it." Effectiveness may vary. Consult your doctor to see if this technique is for you.

It did not at all look stomped on.

In front of Sedaris, my dog, I opened the box.

Here's what was inside:

(as soon as Blogger works itself out, a picture of a smashed iPod, rainbow screen and all, will appear here.)

Here's also what was inside:

Dear Apple Customer,

Thank you for selecting AppleCare Service to repair your Apple iPod. Enclosed you will find your original iPod.

Our diagnosis indicates that the crack on your iPod display has resulted from an external cause. Unfortunately, service for this type of damage is not available from Apple and your iPod has not been repaired.

Coverage for this type of damage is excluded under Apple's one-year limited warranty and the AppleCare Protection Plan for iPod, and service is not available under the terms of Apple's Repair Terms and Conditions.

If you have questions regarding the iPod service process, please call and choose the option for status on a recently scheduled repair. Help is available seven days a week from 8:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m. central time.

Sincerely,

AppleCare Service.

Naturally, I am now entering the process for the third time. 24:55 on the phone (most of that being hold time) got me a direct phone number, numerous apologies, a name, and more repeated assurance that I will receive a new iPod, and that it is understood that the one pictured above was damaged somewhere between Shanghai and DC, and while it may have been Fed Ex's fault, it certainly wasn't mine.

Hot damn.

posted by Joclyn @ 1:41:00 PM 0 comments links to this post

My Patience

2006-03-11T19:33:00.000-05:00

Many of my patients are fat black people who say "Merlin" when they wish to mention "Maryland."

Sometimes they aren't. Sometimes I have patients who are skinny black people who also substitute "Merlin" for Maryland and will tell you that they are missing limbs because of "sugar" when they really mean to say "diabetes."

Some of my other patients are nothing like that. I have famous white people and Saudi Arabian nationals. Maybe one day I'll have one of the Nationals.

I worked with a guy who the hippies used to hate. I could lose my license if I tell you who, even if I say it in a funny accent.

I rode my bike down to the White House today. You can't even get close. There's a sniper on the roof and I almost hesitated when I reached into my shorts pocket to examine my cell phone. It gets crowded here by tourists, but never as crowded as in NY. I rode my bike right up to the Washington Monument. People were putting their hands on it's beige stones like it was the Kotel.

Days and weeks like these make me think that I'm almost ready to share what happened to me when I was 16.

Nature's Promise

2006-02-06T14:03:00.000-05:00

That is what the grocery bags from Giant say. Giant is a chain of grocery stores here in DC. They also have Safeway. They have neither in NYC, but they do have a Safeway car service.

The bags that I use to pick up dog feces say "Nature's Promise" on them.

A Very Non-Commital

2006-02-05T17:17:00.000-05:00

search on Google suggests that the author of "Me, Myself and I" is Beyonce, but I swear it's Biz Markie, right?

I still don't know anyone here.

I have plans for next Sunday to help M____ from work paint her aparment. She is cool, and maybe this will mean that we are friends. I don't want to cross that line between normal people and people whose only friends are at work, though.

I'm taking an improv acting class at the Washington Improv Theater. It is fun, and I think I will get to participate in a showcase. Want to come? It's March 19th, if that is a Sunday.

I signed up for a writing workshop, hoping to use it both as a way to meet people and as a way to find inspiration for more writing, since I love me a finished product.

I only went to one.

It sucked. It reminded me of what I always imagined a "poetry slam" to be. Everyone read their work in that trite poetry cadence.

I couldn't imagine wasting the next 8 Sunday afternoons, so I asked for a refund. I got most of my money back.

So here I am, forcing myself to write a blog entry even though I don't have anything to do except take a shower and walk my dog. I have to get up so early for work that I try to move as little as possible on the weekends.

I had to work yesterday (Saturday.) It actually made the day a little bit more Sabbathy for me because when I came home, I took a three-hour nap. I wouldn't have napped if I hadn't gone into work.

The money is good. They pay you well to reserve your spot in Hell. tee hee.

When my aunt and uncle moved down to DC over thrity years ago, they had each other. They say there was nothing to do in Washington back then. I say they were lucky.

I'm so lonely. I'm showing my hand. Anyone up for a visit?

This Hamas Thing

2006-01-26T17:40:00.000-05:00

So the invented ethnicity has "elected" mindlessly violent maniacs to do its bidding.

Whatever.

It's the same as if Al Qaeda were to form a nation. At least now there's something tangible to hold accountable and declare war upon in a fit of long time coming self defense. There will be no negotiating with terrorists. Peace negotiations are therefore over. Oh well. They were over for good back when Arafat turned down the last Clinton-brokered offer.

Let's just call them Phillistines and get it over with. I hope it doesn't get too ugly. Let's hope for swift over ugly.

Patience

2006-01-20T16:29:00.000-05:00

Yours, I mean. Sorry for the delay in posting. It's a 'comin'.

Case in Point

2006-01-03T17:34:00.000-05:00

Marion "Bitch Set Me Up!" Barry, former DC MAYOR, was robbed at gunpoint last night.

Maybe if there wasn't a 4 to 1 ratio of DC-based cop to eater on Metrorail...?

Ya know, Guiliani's broken window theory only works if you do more than fix the broken windows.

Brooklyn, Meet Washington

2005-12-03T22:30:00.000-05:00

In New York City, despite what they tell you the rules are, it's never necessary to wake up early to eat breakfast because it is perfectly acceptable to eat it on the subway. (This has not been true for me for quite some time, for, apart from not living in New York at the moment, I also have been gluten-free [or so] for about three years now, so eating a breadless sandwich is a little too graphic for public consumption.) I'm just saying that there's never been anything wrong with a bagel and coffee on the B train (formerly the "Q diamond," but forever the "D," at least in my mind.)

In the District (of Columbia, or so) such an attempt is an arrestable offense. My smart friend F_____, several days before I moved the hell down here, told me of a time he entered a DC-based subway stop with a cup of freshly purchased coffee. He was immediately surrounded by four (4) police officers, knightsticks drawn, who informed him that his present situation offered only two (2) choices. The first (1st) choice involved discarding the cup of coffee into a receptacle immediately to his right. The remaining option was to "march [him]self right back up those stairs" thereby forfeting the $1.35 it would cost him to swipe himself out of the Metrorail system. (a la London, Washington DC Metro rail riders need a fare card to enter and exit, and I am certain that they don't call it swiping here. It's more like "letting go while the thing sucks it in-ing." Maybe I need to read the Washington Post more closely to find a single word verb for that action.

Anyway, some weeks or months ago, a teenaged-aged girl was arrested for eating French fries on the DC-based Metro. There has been no word on the state of the fries, but I imagine they have started to at least become very soggy.

This system of order must sound like something that would annoy me immensely, at least to those who are familiar with my tastes in various things. Luckily, since I cannot see straight or even speak until I have a cup of coffee in the morning, by the time I walk out the door (before 7 o'clock anno dommini, no, wait, that's AD. What's AM stand for again?) I have had at least one cup of coffee. I then have another cup immediately on arriving at work. The time elapsed between walking out my door and arriving at work is generally no more than twenty (20) minutes. I also don't take the Metro rail to work. I take the free shuttle bus offered by my job. It leaves every thirty (30) minutes from the Metro rail stop that is 3 blocks from my apartment.

I never asked if coffee is allowed on the free shuttle bus, but I have eaten an apple or two on it on the way home without incident.

My New Subway Stop

2005-11-12T22:00:00.000-05:00

It's kind of mother ship-y, no?

Tagged (by Laura)

2005-11-11T15:18:00.000-05:00

I'm trapped in my new DC-based apartment, waiting for the stove people to unclog my jets. They came clogged, else I figure I would have to do it myself.

In the meantime...

TEN YEARS AGO I was 18, and about 2 months into my first year at Brooklyn College. Hot Professor Broderick had by then sucked his talons into me and convinced me to major in somethng Englishy. I went with journalism.

FIVE YEARS AGO I was recovering from multi-hospitalizations at my parents' house. I was soon to move out and into the 2058 shite-hole with Mo and Char, where one could easily find himself situated in plaster up to his knees after a normally lengthed shower.

ONE YEAR AGO I was in my final year of occupational therapy grad school at Columbia, which is not related to journalism in a way that is easily explainable within the context of an internet questionnaire, but we can talk.

FIVE SNACKS
Ener-G gluten free pretzels
Luna bars of the pecan something or other variety
Clementines
Snickers
Hummus!

FIVE SONGS I KNOW ALL THE WORDS TO
Bankrobber - The Clash
When the Man Comes Around - Johnny Cash
New York City - They Might Be Giants (covering the Cubs?)
Ain't That a Kick in the Head - Dean Martin
Poor Girl - X

FIVE THINGS I WOULD DO WITH $100 MILLION
Buy a Victorian Mansion in Ditmas Park, Brooklyn, but have the heating system modernized.
Buy one for my mother, and also for my father. (They don't reside in the same domicile.) But maybe they would want to live in Park Slope.
Give 10% to charity, and none of that religiousy charity, either.
Travel, travel, travel!

FIVE PLACES TO RUN AWAY TO
Rio! (and then fake my own death so I don't have to repay my student loans.)
(back to) New York City (because Everyone's Your Friend...)
A solitary Carribean island
Israel (pehaps)
Australia (because I'm presenting at a conference there next summer and if I was there already then it wouldn't count as a trip.)

FIVE THINGS I WOULD NEVER WEAR
My Stever Earle "Revolution Starts Now" tee shirt now that he sold the song off to GM, an infamous union buster, which is ironic since Steve Earle claims to be all union and working man-oriented
One of those shirts that says FCUK
That tee shirt that has the arrow pointing up and says "The Man" and then the arrow pointing down and says "The Legend"
A tallis
Phelactories

FIVE FAVORITE TV SHOWS if Comcast would ever gets the hell over to my house and hook me up
ER
Any of the Laws and Order except Criminal Intent even thosugh thats the one that Charlene Elizabeth McPherson prefers because Vinnie is in it
Family Guy (the new ones are so much better... "edgier" if you will)
The Sopranos if it's ever coming back
The Simpsons even though I dont' watch it that often

FIVE BIGGEST JOYS
Bike rides on gorgous days
The build up before the orgasm (known to some people in my circle as the "come zone."
Close friends
Good music
Good food

PEOPLE TO PASS THIS ON TO
Only those who so wish

So by the way...

2005-11-03T13:10:00.000-05:00

I passed the boards, so the letters MS, OTR/L shall henceforth follow my name. You may call me "Master" for short, if you like.

Um, I'm moving to Washington, DC on Sunday (today is Thursday.) Fuck! I'm moving to a neighborhood called "Columbia Heights" and I am 1 mile from my job. That's walkable, right? I am also within several blocks of the Wonderland.

The Wonderland was the first black gay bar in DC, I understand. They let anyone go there now, though.

Even if I hate DC and my job, I will stay for a while. That is how hard packing sucks.

I spoke too soon!

2005-10-18T14:43:00.000-04:00

Date: Tue, 18 Oct 2005 11:27:16 -0700
To: Joclyn
Subject: Happy Birthday from Howard Stern Vagina Corner
From: "Howard Stern Vagina Corner Mailer"

Hello Joclyn,

We at Howard Stern Vagina Corner would like to wish you a happy
birthday today!

Burfday

2005-10-18T00:41:00.000-04:00

It's now 41 minutes into my birthday, but really not at all, since I was born at 1:30 am. And actually, with all the leap years and daylight savings time, who the hell knows when my birthday really is and if I am even a Libra.

I had this vision of myself spending my 28th birthday at my new job; it would have almost been a nice icebreaker.

But bureaucracy has prevailed and I have not started working yet. So instead I had dinner in Bed-Stuy with my cousin and his lovely, impregnated wife, and will probably be sleeping in.

I know that all these good things are really just weeks away, but it seems too long already. I miss the train at rush hour. I do not want my hourly wage. I want my salary.

I want to meet people, people to add to my litany (liturgy? I have to look that up. Wait, that's a blood and body of Christ thing, I think.)

I am tired of not knowing. I hope to know soon. I have to tell my landlord my plans.

I predict that this will not be my best birthday yet.

Emerge NYC

2005-10-06T10:08:00.000-04:00

Clearly the New York Times and Gothamist follow me throughout my travels.

Yes, Frankenstein, Bleeker Street is a long strip, but I've been found!

Come on down.

Miers

2005-10-05T01:56:00.000-04:00

My mother's maiden name is Meyers.

Same stock? Grandma never found Jesus, so I doubt it.

I heard this rumor that my 12th grade English teacher might be reading this. Cripes! I haven't written anything good in at least a year.

Good God

2005-09-30T10:32:00.000-04:00

WASHINGTON (CNN) -- Congressional Democrats blasted former Education Secretary William Bennett on Thursday for saying that aborting "every black baby in this country" would reduce the crime rate, and demanded their Republican counterparts do the same.

Bennet.comments

I imagine he wasn't planning on factoring the forcing of abortions into the crime rate.

Q. What other famous politician thought woes could be decreased by controlling one population?
A. He's brought up too much these days, anyway, but you are correct, sir.

A Brief Update...

2005-09-28T00:55:00.000-04:00

or, how I was Robert McNamara'd into writing a new post, late into the night as it may be by Bec, who is wonderful.

Over the last several weeks, some new and wacky happenings have happened.

WHEREAS,
I finally finished my final fucking internship. (insert link here to ditty, in prose form, about horrible supervisor); and

WHEREAS,
I was interviewed for a job by a blind man; and

WHEREAS,
Man, that's a tough interview; and

WHEREAS,
I didn't get that job; and

WHEREAS,
I was interviewed -- twice -- for another job that I did not get. The ad said new graduates should feel welcome to apply, but I was later informed that that clause simply meant such, for feeling welcomed's sake; and

WHEREAS,
I was offered a position at a hospital in Washington, D.C. (In Washington, D.C. you have to refer to Washington, D.C. as "The District."); and

WHEREAS,
I accepted such position; and

WHEREAS,
I studied for, and was administered -- in the passive voice -- the licensing examination; and

WHEREAS,
My exam, apparently, has been graded;

HOWEVER,
No one will tell me if I passed, or even just cough twice if I didn't, because they are not allowed to since they do not yet have a Final Official Transcript Stating I Have Graduated even thought they do have a signed and stamped letter saying that I have been Cleared for Graduation.

Exhibit A
The main reason that a Final Official transcript Stating I Have Graduated is not within the hands of the people who know whether or not I passed the licensing examination is because it has not yet been issued. The Random Date selected by the Administration or Such of Columbia University is October 19, 2005.
Without a Passing Score on the Licensing Examination, I Cannot Seek or Serve as Employ Within My Chosen Field.

THEREFORE, LET IT BE KNOWN,
that until further notice, or, at least until 7-10 business days beyond the Random Date of October 19,2005, I shall work during the daytime hours, as generally needed, at a clothing store on Bleeker Street, New York County.

I Changed My Mind About Casual Sex

2005-09-18T20:58:00.000-04:00

a poem

I changed my mind.

I changed my mind because I love you and think about you at least a little bit almost all of the time.

I don't mean anything to you.

(This fact has often kept me up and made me cry.)

Not a good combo.

Bye.
-----------------
perhaps I should stick to prose

Avenue Q

2005-09-06T11:54:00.000-04:00

I meant to post here that I saw Avenue Q on Broadway a few weeks ago... for $21.25!

Every day, at least 70 people gather outside the theater on 43rd Street or wherever it is and write their names on little slips of paper in the hopes that their names will be called and the opportunity to purchase $250 front row orchestra seats for $21.25 will befall them.

It is, perhaps, one of the greatest losing experiences in New York City. You never win. I never win. Someone else always does, and they are always so happy that their evening plans have worked out so perfectly.

A few weeks ago, I chanced it for at least the fourth time.

Not only did the friendly theater box office gentleman pick my name out of his (or someone else's) hat FIRST, but he pronounced my name correctly AND quickly!

I understand now why people say "Yessssss." It just comes out; I think we are biologically powerless over the "Yessssss!" phenomenon.

The show was excellent! In case you are out of the Broadway loop (which I always am) Avenue Q is a musical (and I usually strongly dislike musicals except for Les Miserables and Sarafina and Candide) and the stars are Sesame Streetesque puppets.

They all live on Avenue Q because they were priced out of the Avenue A area.

Songs include "Everyone's a Little Bit Racist," "What do you do with a BA in English," "The Internet is for Porn," and "If You Were Gay (but I'm not Gay.)"

The role of the super is played by someone playing Gary Coleman, and they manage to say something hilarious about many an ethnicity.

I thoroughly enjoyed this play, and would even pay full price to see it. (Not the full-price front row price, but maybe somewhere up in the balcony.)

New Orleans

2005-08-28T23:57:00.000-04:00

Where would you go if your entire city was evacuated?

How would you get there?

What would you bring?

I would hitch a ride with someone either going upatate or to Washington DC.

I'd bring my dog, my laptop, prescription-strength Imodium, 2 credit cards, an Artscroll publication (because you never know),a lot of underwear, and my renter's insurance policy number.

If there was lots of notice, I would bring more.

Health Insurance

2005-08-28T14:47:00.000-04:00

I have been galvanting around without health insurance since 12:01 AM on August 16th, 2005. I found this out as I attempted to refill a prescription this morning.
(Who knew?)

I am ineligible for Medicaid because of the large amount of student loan money in my bank account.
(Wow, is that really MY money?)

Family Health Plus, here I come!
(I heart George Pataki and his mission to ensure that even the poorest New Yorkers -- those with incomes under $9000 who do not qualify for Medicaid-- have access to FREE health insurance!)

Why did I not enroll in Family Health Plus when first becoming a graduate student? I could have saved over $3000 in student health insurance fees, and God knows I didn't have any income then, either.

I hope the application materials come soon; the man at 311 promised they would.

ZERO copay with ANYTHING, baby! Even prescriptions! That damn expired Aetna plan cost me $30/prescription!

*Laughs all the way to pharmacy*

Podcasts

2005-08-27T11:49:00.000-04:00

To the best I can gather, all podcasts suck really hard.

Please correct me if I am wrong. I am always looking for some good listening.

ORAL SUCTION?? (revised)

2005-08-26T11:44:00.000-04:00

edited due to sleeping on it-- and being told off

I have NEVER heard of this practice. When I first saw the headline, I thought it was the actual circumcision with which the city had a problem.

City Has Problem with Oral Suction Ritual

At least one rabbi has spread herpes-- and some babies have died from it-- by putting his mouth on babies' penises.

What kind of sick joke is this? I thought the FBI kept files on men who put their mouths on the penises of people under 18.

Orthodox rabbis who put their mouths on babies' penises are child molestors, just like the Catholic priests who do the diddle as well.

God forbid people read that article and think that sucking the blood from a recently circumcised penis is something that Jews do.

Just what we need.

Black Women Certainly Love Gum!

2005-08-17T21:53:00.000-04:00

I Feel Like the Woman in That PSA...

2005-08-11T18:34:00.000-04:00

...You know, the one where she gets smaller and smaller and finally belts out, "This is sexual harassment, and I don't have to take it! (Or does she say, "You, alright! I learned it by watching YOU!"

Anyway, I was not being harassed, sexually or otherwise. (Actually, I'm kidding. I am harassed daily at work, just not sexually.)

My supervisor, for some reason, feels comfortable saying horrible things to me about Arabs and Muslims. She has expressed doubt about rehabilitating the hands of people with an Arabness to them, wondering aloud, "But what is he going to DO with his hands?"

Today, out of nowhere, during a lull in patient interaction time, she turned to me and said, "Did you hear what is happening in Israel?"

I looked up in horror, thinking some immediate explosion or the like had just occurred. She was referring to the settlement Jews being forced to leave their homes.

My position on those goings on are irrelevant here... but I will say that notice is nice rather than a bulldozer...

I don't say much in response, just that I agree that being forced to leave your home must feel horrible.

Not taking the hint, she then offers a solution to the world's terror problem. "They all have to be exterminated! Every last one of them! I mean, some are better than others, but they don't have the same values that 99.999% of Jews and all the other good people have."

I am pretty sure that I looked away at this point, chewing the inside of my face.

I dunno. Can she initiate such a conversation with me being that she wields power over me? I'm more than a little uncomfortable with that.

(Full disclosure: She has never withheld treatment or provided inadequate treatment to anyone, as far as I have seen.)

Joclyn's desperation

2005-08-07T19:20:00.000-04:00

In case I missed anyone, the following is an email I sent out last week.

So as was to be expected, ultimately, my cell phone crashed and died through no fault of my own. Naturally, all was lost, photos, hilarious ringtones, the never-used demo version of the pocket PC version of the Zagat's guide to Brooklyn dining, the teeny cell phone version of Ms. Pac-Man, and of course, all of my stored telephone numbers. I may be acting awful presumptuous by emailing (just about) everyone I know, but in case you want me to ever call you again, or fear that I may falter into desperate loneliness without your so-called digits, please email me; tell me everything will be fine, and give me those numbers required for access to, um, you. If you don't, then don't.

The good folks at Verizon Wireless did NOT tell me that "2 Day Guaranteed Delivery" means 2 days from the next day. I think I am taking it rather well.

Ten-year High School Reunion

2005-08-07T19:10:00.000-04:00

Last night I attended my high school reunion. It wasn't formal, like with name tags, but E_ took it upon himself to organize and incessantly email, and so it happened.

Everyone looked pretty much exactly the same. I guess ten years is not a long time. I didn't tell anyone that sometime between then and now I lost my colon. There was never a moment.

We all snuck outside to smoke, just like in high school, but we were drinking on the up and up.

As soon as J___ gets back to me, I will post some pictures.

I had an awkward conversation with Mr. S______. He was never able to say "obviously" and instead would say "overously." I took his class when I didn't feel like being in AP anymore. The conversation was only awkward because I couldn't really hear him over the pumping house music.

Then today I visited my sister at Camp Surprise Lake. I brought her so many snacks and such, only to find out that campers are not allowed to have food in their bunks.

Wha?

Caught Red-Footed

2005-08-01T19:20:00.000-04:00

I ran downstairs to print out three copies of my resume for tomorrow's swank interview, since I have a $30 printer, and as I ascended back up to my Ikeally decked attic apartment, I heard frantic scurrying, similar to the frantic scurrying I hear when my dog has done something *wrong* and doesn't know quite what to do with herself.

The only *bad* thing she ever does (besides finding all of the chicken bones in my neighborhood) is go through the trash, and she only does that if I leave it open. She especially enjoys once-a-month bathroom trash.

So I open the door and there she is, excited to greet me but also knowing she's done something that will make me mad.

Stuck to her feet were the chewed remains of the edge of a maxi pad. Before you say "eeeeeeeew" (B__) just imagine how hard it was not to fall over laughing while I had to pretend to be mad at her. She was dancing around with her feet just stuck...

I'm gonna go take out the trash.

Wait, This Just Hit Me...

2005-07-31T12:45:00.000-04:00

The other day, H______ told me that her refrigerator "imploded" and she no longer owns food.

What does that mean? How did that happen?

I have a swank job interview on Tuesday.

Should I tell them that I really just want to be a writer?

The Complaining Shall Cease

2005-07-09T14:12:00.000-04:00

As per Charlene Elizabeth McPherson's request, I will attempt to bring this blog back around, full circle, to the days when it was simply funny, and not full of my crazy lady complaints.

(Charlene Elizabeth McPherson, as you may recall, thoroughly enjoys a deviled egg.)

I will start with a simple story that does, unfortunately, relate to a complaint, but I will not explain the complaint here.

In sending a (duly deserved) letter of complaint via the United States Postal Service, I learned that my local branch was out of all stamps save for ones that say "I Love You."

I thought that that was kinda humorous, but explained (and begged) to the teller (are they called teller's in the Post Office like how they are at the bank? I dunno, the setup is the same, right?) that I really don't know that it is appropriate to mail business correspondence with an "I Love You" stamp, replete with a photograph of that heart candy that has words on it.

She shrugged, but began to search, and found me a dusty sheet of John Wayne stamps.

John Wayne means business, right?

Notice, again, how I am not detailing my gripe in this space, dear reader, as it were.