I talk so all the time

This barrage of Kerry-Edwards phone calls is getting very irritating. We're not generally in the habit of picking up the phone unless we know who it is and want to talk to that person, so we get to hear the silly messages that they leave on our machine, real-time. And they're basically mini-commercials. Here is an approximated version:

Skyrocketing debts! Under-funded education bills! Dangerous precidents being set in foreign policy! Crony capitalism! If you think this country needs a change, vote Kerry-Edwards and get our country back on the right track.

Then there are the ones reminding us that there's an election on Tuesday. No shit? Is that why I'm signed up to work the polls that day? Presidential election, you say? Kerry? Where am I? Who's talking?

Of course there's no way for them to know that my (/our) entire being has been focused on Nov. 2, 2004 for the last 3 years, but it's still driving me crazy. I want to pick up the phone and scream I was bashing Bush when you were in kneepants!

I don't think you did a very good job of planning Order Day...

Number of hours officially encompassing Order Weekend: 49
Dollars spent in service of performing Order Weekend duties: approx. $61
Number of new credit cards discovered in mail that hadn't been opened yet: 2
Number of major possessions discarded: 5
Number of minor possessions discarded: 31
Number of dirty water tanks of a Rug Doctor discarded: 11
Number of things on the Order Day to-do list that did not get accomplished: 2

Election Correction Protection Deflection Gerschnection

I have been slogging through the hours, going straight from one thing to the next, and have looked up to find a glorious expanse of 24 hours in which I have no obligations. Unless I'm forgetting something. But, no, I'm pretty sure I'm free now.

Hoorah. Guess I'll make a list of stuff I could do with my time, then go take a nap.

No, no, I'm going to make the best of it. Although I could certainly use some sleep. Tuesday afternoon I drove up to Capital City to watch my father receive some bigshot award at his company. There was a bigshot reception, with a staggeringly high bigshot-per-capita ratio, then a loooonnng awards ceremony, hosted by a bigshot local celebrity newscaster. It was overall pretty cheesy, but it was nice to see nurses and people who don't often get acknowledged... get acknowledged.

So, up came my father's category, up went his name in the list of top three nominees, then up went the person who had won, who was not, as it happens, my father. He had been slightly misled - he'd thought, because his boss forbade him to leave town and miss the awards ceremony, that he'd actually won an individual award. The next 45 minutes were slightly uncomfortable, considering that I'd driven 3 hours and he'd forgone an important trip to be there. Turns out his team had won an award which it was his job to accept and he looked good, blahdi blahdi blah, so it was not all for bust. But those were a puzzling 45 minutes.

So then I slept at my brother-in-law's place and then got up at 6 to drive to work.

Standardisation is key.

Overheard in the grocery store tonight: "See, what's important is that I have an excuse to be dressed like a chicken."

So I rushed home to blog about it, and as blogger was staunchly repelling my several attempts to log in, I alarmed myself by googling the Ashlee Simpson lip-sync-ing incident on SNL the other night, which Other was lucky enough to witness. Even more alarming? I spelled "Ashlee" right on the first try.

How the fuck do I know how to spell Ashlee Simpson's name? I put effort into avoiding the silly trappings of pop culture... though clearly not enough.

She told me that her dad was loaded/I said 'in that case I'll have a rum and/Coca-Cola'

Well, good God did today suck. I've only recently started suffering what I will refer to as "woman-pain," and if this is because of my feelings on God or anything else for that matter, I hope the relevant parties be advised that I will gladly change my mind.

As the other instances of woman-pain had only, luckily, occurred during hours in which I did not have class, I'd put off attempting to do anything about the woman-pain. Now, however, that I have a steady job, there is a greater chance that the w-p will coincide with the work, and today it did.

This meant that for much of the morning I was experiencing some discomfort and cursing most of the people around me, privately, to death. Had I stopped to think about it, I would have remembered that the slope of pain I was sliding down ended horribly, but I was determined to get through the workday.

But I did not. I went from working to sitting in the back room with my head down to moving in a haze of endorphins down to the basement bathroom to vomiting in the basement bathroom and then curling up on the floor, humming, and counting, rhythmically and while rocking back and forth, to five hundred and fifty. My god the pain. I came close this time to blacking out, which I was hoping for, because that would have meant a lack of conscious experience of the pain. But I didn't, probably because I had no idea when I'd wake up, and at that point was locked in the bathroom. I think it would have freaked my coworkers out if they'd come to find me and I didn't answer their calls.

Smokers are Jokers!

Today I spent 6 hours in the company of a pharmacy robot technician from Kansas.

I'll admit it - Thick and Quick yarn is both of those things.

I must say I'm optimistic about the election. I now actually believe that it will happen, and there will be a point in time where the campaign will be in a state of not-going-on; this in itself will be a major feat for the universe, as far as I'm concerned. I also think that Kerry's looking really good. The last thing I want to do is jinx anything (because of course the things I say on this website are the most important factor in the election), but Bush seems so very desperate. I'm honestly thinking that the next time I turn on the television, I will see this ad:

[unflattering picture of Kerry on the screen, foreboding music]
voiceover: John Kerry wants you dead. If he gets elected, he will kill you. He told me so. Also, he will kill your children. Or your pets.

[weird, American-flag-y pictures of GWB, where he's grinning and appears to be explaining something]
I'm George W. Bush, and I approved this message.

Because, really, he's going to raise your taxes, move the White House to Paris, donate money to terrorists, and disband the Department of Homeland Security, and (God forbid) provide health insurance for everyone -- what's left? Where do they go from here?

I'm gonna wash that lake-stench right out of my dog

There really shouldn't be Target stores in NYC.

What Would A Recovering Alcoholic Do?

I worked 8 hours yesterday and then again today. And I feel like I deserve a ribbon or a trophy or $1,000 or something, which is pretty sad considering that lots of people (millions!) (possibly hundreds of millions!) do this five days a week with little complaint. How do people do this? In my defense, the work is not even close to being comparable to office work, where you get to sit down at least sometimes and probably especially when you're eating lunch, and maybe have a moment or two where your mind can drift off and maybe you can check your damn e-mail or something. Not this job, though. It's balls-to-the-wall-do-this-do-that-hurry-the-fuck-up for 8 hours straight. There were maybe 10 non-consecutive minutes today where I didn't have anything urgent to do, but those moments are actually bad, because it gets harder to reach optimum balls-to-the-wall,-etc. levels again after a slowdown.

So coming home after one of these days automatically means that I don't have to do a goddamn thing I don't want to do for the rest of the night. Unfortunately, though, no it doesn't.

This is me procrastinating from opening combat operations on the dustbunnies and dishes. And toilets.

I've been trying to deal with this via my new WWARAD? policy: Baby Steps. Yesterday, I emptied what was left in the dishwasher and put some of the dirty dishes in there. Not all - baby steps - some. This has worked, though not because I'm good at taking a second baby step, but because if stuff sits around long enough, Other gets annoyed enough to do it himself.

Also!

Was there a small moment during the debate last night where anyone else out there thought that if he could have reached him, Bush would have urinated on John McCain? A direct quote from the transcript:

"We're just in a period -- we've got to work to bring it -- my opponent keeps mentioning John McCain, and I'm glad he did. John McCain is for me for president because he understands I have the right view in winning the war on terror and that my plan will succeed in Iraq. And my opponent has got a plan of retreat and defeat in Iraq."

John McCain is for me for president. Now, I have my own theories on why John McCain is supporting Bush for reelection, but I bet it's killing a piece of his soul.

Sunny and Optimistic?

Try, creepy laugh (kyuh kyuh kyuh), terrifying smile, and strange new habit of beating on the podium like it might bite.

Flu shot? I don't need no stinkin hrrglglllhghh

Yesterday was a bad day. Today is not a great day, but it is nowhere near as bad as yesterday. Today, for example, I did not vomit cottage cheese.

The tears of a postman

One of my problems in life in general is that once I notice or learn something, I just assume that everyone knows about it. For instance, I read some article or something in which a teacher was complaining about when her students would write her after they'd missed a class and ask if they'd missed anything. Which, for obvious reasons, is insulting. Say, you know that class that you just spent 3 hours putting together? Yeah? Well, was any of it worthwhile? Then the teacher talked about funny ways to answer that question: No, when we figured out you weren't coming, we all just went home, Yes, I decided to give the final, and if you missed it, sorry, you fail, etc. But now, when a student e-mails me and asks if they missed anything, I am filled with such rage that I can't even bring myself to respond to the e-mail. There are two in my inbox right now, waiting. What to say, what to say.

In other news, Mr. Debate Smackdown 2004 Kerry has totally won my vote. Sure wish he'd get around to explaining the nuances of his vote against the $87 billion for the troops ('cause we all know how much Americans love nuances), but my policy of avoiding the media drumbeat so as to avoid ulcers as well is helping out in this regard. He'll probably get around to saying something about it, so why worry?

While Debate Smackdown 2004 has increased my confidence in Kerry as a candidate, as well as eased my conscience about my own vote, I've also become more concerned than ever that Bush has some sort of mental problem. Was it just me, or was he barely coherent? I've mentioned before that I can't stand listening to him talk because at every pause in his speech I expect a meltdown, so watching the debate Thursday was nearly stroke-inducing. But aside from my personal comfort, more alarming is the question: is this the man whose finger we want on the button? What the hell is wrong with him?

I've got to get back to grading papers, which I've been doing diligently. Unfortunately, once I look away from them, I can't remember a word they've said, so it's hard to feel confident about the grades I'm tossing out. (Heh, I'm only kidding, mostly.) Perhaps I'll find those two students' papers and attach a post-it note that reads, "Sorry, didn't get around to reading your papers. Did you say anything interesting? B-."