5 Thoughts Friday

I've had a few topics swirling around in my head this week, competing against each other to become full-fledged blog posts.

Usually when I get more than one idea at a time, they end up engaging in a death match in my brain that no one wins (especially me). None of the topics ever get written about and I just give up and post a love letter to bananas or something. But since I can't eat bananas anymore (sigh), I figured I might as well write previews of the posts that (let's face it) will probably remain unfinished.

1. Cookies and Cream Cheesecake Cupcakes

I made these cupcakes a couple of weeks ago. They were my first attempt at any sort of cheesecake, and they were *amazing*.

I took pictures and everything, ready to tell you all about the cupcakes, and to document my plans for mini cupcakes. Then my camera battery died and I couldn't find my charger, and the hard drive on my home computer filled up and I had to get a new backup drive, and... well, let's face it. I don't really need excuses to procrastinate. When the universe actually provides me with excuses? I can't help myself.

2. "Sorry I haven't posted"

I may have changed my mind about "Sorry I haven't posted" posts after following a link to this site. Holy moly!

Then again, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't enjoy reading a whole bunch of "first posts," or "I'm pregnant" posts, or even "I won the lottery!" posts in aggregate either (well, unless the lottery winners were like these folks).

3. The political party I have decided to found

This one was inspired by watching a combination of too much South Park (I know) and political coverage (I know).

I have decided to create a new political party. I will call it the Hindsight Party.

We won't actually have a political platform or say anything specific about what we actually plan to do. Oh no. "Doing things" can get you into trouble. We'll just run a lot of political ads that showcase what the other political parties did wrong.

I figure we'll be able to make a strong run in about 10 years. I already have our slogan:

"Hindsight 2020!"

4. Internet mobs

I've been following this story, mostly because it seems to be following what I've decided to call The Typical Pattern of Internets Drama. (Some perpetual grad student somewhere should totally do a case study...)

The mob starts out relatively harmless: build up of dismay/outrage as the story spreads; various celebrities weigh in; servers temporarily crash; Facebook fan page overrun with angry comments that evolve (devolve?) into a (rather funny) meme; etc.

However, at a certain point in the life cycle of every internet mob, the REAL crazy people jump in. (You recognize them by their valid-sounding threats to do things that could probably land them in jail.) Watching their antics on Facebook and elsewhere can get a little bit frightening.

Still. I can't look away.

5. The kitteh

Someone dumped a kitten in our parking lot on election night. It was one of the first cold nights of the year, and it was scared, cold, and crying as loudly as it could.

I wanted to help the kitten, but there were several problems. First, Bailey is pretty sure that kittens are a delicacy of which we have been depriving him for his entire life. (It is part of his "they save all the *good* food for themselves" conspiracy theory.) I didn't want to tempt fate (or Bailey) too much by bringing a helpless kitten into the house.

Second, I'm super allergic to cats. The last time I stayed the night in a house with a cat, I had to spend the next day hooked up to a breathing machine in my doctor's office, listening to a lecture about otherwise healthy people who have died from asthma because they didn't get to a hospital in time. Again, I figured it was best not to tempt fate.

Lastly, it was 2:00 a.m., too late to call any of my cat rescue-y friends. (I did attempt a couple of texts. I hope karmic retribution won't be too bad.)

I filled a box with blankets and hot water bottles, put out some food and water, told my neighbor I'd deal with the kitten in the morning if she'd just please stop chasing it away with a broom for one night, and tucked the kitten in on our front porch.

(Spoiler alert: one of my friends adopted the kitten the next morning. Kitten and family are doing well.)

***THE END***

P.S. My brain feels better. Have a nice weekend!

Happy 75th Anniversary!

Dear United States,

Happy 75th Anniversary of the end of Prohibition!

I encourage you to celebrate an anniversary that marks a date in history when Americans realized that the U.S. Constitution should give rights, not take them away.

(Also? As one of my friends pointed out, Prohibition laid the foundation for NASCAR. We should maybe celebrate that it ended before it spawned anything else. I'm just sayin...)

Love always,
Jane

And now for something completely different

Dear Internets,

Hum-dee-dum...

Oh... Hello. I sure was... angry this morning, huh? Sorry about that.

In an effort to get the embarrassing post from this morning off the top of the page (my finger is itching to just press "delete"), I will share an even more embarrassing anecdote from later in my day:

A student I tutor made me a CD. I think he's probably about 16. (Yes, I feel kind of creepy.) I didn't really know what to say, so I just thanked him and assigned him extra math homework.

In other news, a pregnant homeless woman (who was - no joke - holding a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other) complemented me on my outfit from across the street today while I was walking downtown.

In even more "other news," I apparently won a $350 spa gift certificate at the last triathlon I did.

Maybe I just needed a little catharsis this morning... Emotional feng shui or whatever.

Let's never speak of this again.

Love,
Jane

Cat lady (likely crazy)

Dear Internets,

At some point years ago, a former classmate gave my name as someone who might be interested in joining some school reunion website. The website got bought out several times, and I now occasionally receive email from Classmates.com. I just got an email that said someone had "signed" my profile.

"Hmm," I thought. "That's funny. I don't remember creating a profile."

I went to the website and looked at my "profile." Apparently, I am single, "don't want kids" and have interests in "board games and cats." Wow! I'm like the biggest catch since Miss Havisham! I just wish "Chasing those neighbor kids off my lawn" was on there.

I can't stop giggling. If this is just a "random" profile, I guess they could have picked less-flattering interests (the choices include channel surfing, hunting, gambling, bluegrass music, snakes, spiders, goats, and still holding a torch for a high school love-interest). But they definitely would have had to try.

However, I'm hoping I had one too many margaritas one night and set the profile up myself. I've always said that the only thing standing between me and a life of cat-hoarding and board game playing was my darn allergies.

Yours,
Eleanor Abernathy (aka Jane)

Mulletgate

Dear Hair,

I think it's time for a change, but I'm kinda scared. Remember last year, when I had the mullet?* The salon owner who fixed you was great, especially when she said "Oh my God! Who did this to you and how did it happen in my salon?!" and gave me a cute new haircut.

Should we do a big change, chop off all the chlorine damage, and start over? Or should we go the safe route, and just get a trim? Could there be a worse haircut result than a reverse mullet (the one I was given last year was party in the front, business in the back), or can I assume that I've already been given the worst haircut I'll ever get**?

Yours,
Jane

*Being able to start stories with, "Remember that one time? Back when I had the mullet?" is really the only good part about getting mulletted by an inexperienced hair stylist.

**This was the mistake that led to getting the mullet in the first place, really. I assumed I had already been given the worst haircut of my life back in sixth grade, when my mom took me to JC Penny so a "professional" (bless my mom's heart…) could fix my suddenly frizzy hair. I ended up spending most of junior high with poodle hair, which was set off nicely by my giant glasses. I don't even think my grandma thought I was cute.

Jane's Fist of Karma

Dear Internets,

I thought I should tell you that I have possibly lost my marbles.

Tonight I went to a fun local restaurant with a friend with every intention of eating my quesadillas and minding my own business. As we ate though, I couldn't help but notice that the table next to us was getting kind of... loud. The woman (Loud Lady) shouted orders across the room to a waitress in another section. Her boyfriend yelled at a busboy who didn't speak English, apparently because he thought if he JUST TALKED LOUDER AND MORE SLOWLY THE BUSBOY WOULD MAGICALLY UNDERSTAND HIM AND REFILL HIS DRINK. At one point, Loud Lady went into the kitchen and grabbed a fistful of lemons with her grubby bare hand. (Bless his heart, Loud Lady's three-year-old son was the most well-behaved person at their table.)

Despite the fact that Loud Lady and her boyfriend seemed intent on causing a scene, I was doing a fairly good job ignoring them. They weren't drinking, so I figured they wouldn't get any worse. Then the restaurant manager came over to ask the family, if they could possibly help it, to avoid going into the kitchen to get lemons directly out of the lemon bucket.

Loud Lady completely lost it. Didn't the restaurant manager know that they were *regular* customers of the restaurant? Didn't he want their business? DIDN'T HE KNOW IT WAS THAT TRAMPY BLONDE WAITRESS' FAULT THAT THEY *HAD* TO GO GET THEIR OWN LEMONS BECAUSE SHE WOULDN'T BRING THEM MORE LEMONS???

I watched the manager go through the various steps of attempting to reason with a crazy person (the waitress isn't serving your section, your own waiter brought you more lemons several times, that waitress isn't out to get you because you're not tall and thin and blonde, she's just busy) before giving up. I felt bad for him; I've been in his shoes myself. It's the sad reality of customer service that the customer who insists s/he is always right is usually nuts. It's the even sadder reality of low-level management that there's little or nothing you can do to satisfy the nutty customers, except admit responsibility for everything that could possibly be wrong in their lives at the particular moment you happen to be talking to them. (Sometimes, if you denigrate yourself completely, you can even shut them up until the next time they visit your establishment.)

However, emasculating the restaurant manager was not going to be enough to satisfy LoudCrazy Lady. She set in on the sweet, dreadlocked waiter as soon as he came to refill their sodas and iced tea. How DARE he 'tell on' her to management? Didn't he know it was because he and that blonde slut couldn't do their jobs that they had to go get their own lemons? Why didn't he tell that blonde slut he worked with to do her job? WHY DOESN'T HE GO ON OVER AND GET THAT BLONDE SLUT SO CRAZY LADY CAN GIVE HER A LESSON IN HOW TO BRING PEOPLE THEIR DAMN LEMONS? CLEARLY THE WAITSTAFF IS JUST STUPID AND RUDE.

With the manager off licking his wounds, there was nothing the poor waiter could say or do to defend himself, and Crazy Lady knew it.

At this point, Internets, I am embarrassed to say that I lost my cool.

"ACTUALLY, MA'AM," I said (rather loudly). "I think that YOU are the one being rude. You are being so loud that you are disturbing other customers. You need to keep it down."

In retrospect, I know it probably wasn't a good idea to attempt to diffuse a crazy person, and it probably didn't make me look like the world's classiest individual. But Internets... it worked! Crazy Lady made a couple of half-hearted comments about me needing to mind my own business, and the table next to them being the loud ones, but she stayed subdued for the rest of her meal.

I don't know why I told her off. Maybe it was the years spent being yelled at because the supermarket ran out of cherimoyas, or the paper bag handles weren't comfortable, or I forgot to ask if they wanted five nickels or one quarter, or I followed my manager's instructions and let someone through the 10-items-or-less (didn't I know that should be "fewer"?) line with eleven items. Honestly, I'm pretty embarrassed that I said anything to Crazy Lady at all. But the waiter told me thank you, and if I made his $2.13 an hour night any less crappy by speaking up, I think it was worth it.

Don't hate me 'cause I'm crazy, Internets...

Love,
Jane

I kinda always knew I'd end up his ex-girlfriend

Dear Universe,

Why, of all the possible places in the world for my psycho stalker crazy ex to find work, did he get a job here? We dated for around a year, but he followed my movements like a creepy (but somewhat incompetent) federal agent for five years after I broke up with him. I know I work for a big employer, Universe, and that it's a small world, but we didn't even work in the same industry.

Sigh. I thought he had gotten married and moved out of state, but he wasn't wearing a ring. He was definitely still giving off that I-wanna-know-your-every-move vibe. Could you please make sure we don't run into each other very often, Universe? I know you've got my back.

Hugs,
Jane