Friday, August 31, 2012
I'm going to come right out and say I have never actually tried e-dating. No Match.com or eHarmony.com or YouKnowThere'sSomeoneOutThereYouJustHaven'tLookedOnTHISSiteYet.com Frankly my dear, they scare me. Not in the Craiglist-they'll-rob-you kind of way, but in the people-lie-to-your-face-how-much-worse-can-they-be-over-the-INTERNET kind of way.
Oh sure, there's always the friend of a cousin that has found their one true love on an internet dating site, but that's the 0.5% that you hear about. That ONE person you have heard of that it's actually worked for--the hope-fodder. For the most part all I get told is it's either a bunch of first dates with nothin' to show for it or terrible, terrible matches.
My poor sister is one of those "guess who just WINKED at me?! Ewwww!" ones. At least she's trying though, so kudos to her. At this point though I'm not doing any worse off then her NOT using the dating sites then she is actually using them. I've actually saved myself a lot of aggravation. At least I will keep telling myself that until my sister gets married, then I'm getting a cat.
Friday, August 17, 2012
I live in a relatively small town. I say relatively because the population isn't under a thousand or out in the middle of Nowheresville, but you could walk from one end to the other in under two hours. In fact, most people bike to get around. That should tell you something. Other then the fact it is a college town, there's not a lot happening from day to day. Sure, there's the Farmer's Market twice a week and the occassional rummage sale at the Rotary Club...but besides campus events...eh.
We DO however have two sets of emergency responders. There is a police and fire department for just the college and another one for the town. I feel a little bad for them. The majority of police calls are to frat parties and citing cyclists running stop signs and not having bike lights (seriously, you can get a ticket for that!). The majority of fire department calls are to the Chemistry building when someone has burned a bagel in the toaster (yes, that happened). You know they're bored.
So that's why this morning I was not surprised when I passed two cop cars and two fire trucks on the side of the road (they travel in packs). What were they there for? A tree branch had fallen over the bike path... Thanks for keeping is safe guys!
Getting a black belt is an odd thing. You spend years training; sweating, bleeding, pulling muscles, getting bruises and blisters, being disappointed in your technique, being slightly happier with your technique, being disappointed in your technique again, washing uniforms in special laundry loads, and buying ice packs, ibuprofen and sports tape by the truck load. But no one is ever impressed with what leads up to a black belt. They just hear you are a yellow belt, or a blue belt or red-black belt and say, "Oh, that's nice...when are you getting your black belt?"
I understand that
All that being said, what do you mean, "When am I getting my black belt?" It's not the belt that matters! Ok, yes, the belt is sweet, it has certain bragging rights because there is a expectation of coolness that comes with it, it's a reminder of how hard you worked to get it, but the belt itself does not give you super powers.
You know what getting a black belt means? More training. Why? Because you are never going to be perfect. Never. No matter how many years you train, buckets of sweat you drip or black belt degrees you have. You. Will. Never. Be. Perfect. That doesn't mean you won't get better or that you shouldn't try. It's the striving for perfection that pushes us.
Anyone who is training for the right reasons isn't training for a belt color. You could just as easily show up for class in yoga pants and a tank top and the training is just as valid if your mind is in the right place.
As my Hapkido Master says, "You will never be perfect...and that should be freeing!"
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Funny story from a friend. My friend, let's call her "Marie," is a veterinarian. I saw her today at lunch and asked her how it was going. Her response? "I wish I could separate the animals from the owners!"
Why you ask? Every animal that is sent home is sent with a "discharge report." This is basically a list that tells the owners how the animal was tested, procedures done, if any meds were prescribed, etc. This particular owner just MAILED BACK her discharge report with a big, fat F- (yes, it was in red) on the top of it and apparently some slander about how much she hated "Marie."
Wow. Thanks for the constructive criticism. Now, I have been friends with this vet for closing in on 10 years and I am not underestimating when I say she is SUPER nice and VERY smart.
I therefore hate this unknown lady and calling her mean names.
If she was that unhappy with her service she could have asked for another doctor. Stupid. People are stupid. I run into this problem all the time. *sad face*
Ack! It's been...4 months since I have posted anything and they have changed the layout of Blogger. Holy rusted metal, Batman! Razzin-frazzin...
I seriously need to start taking notes on things to blog about.
Also, my sister has suggested switching blogging sites, but I can barely get through my current one. She says she "gets more traffic" there...meh. I don't really have any "traffic" now to speak of, so...
I could take suggestions. I like suggestions. But there's that whole "traffic" thing so who would be doing to suggesting? Anybody? Bueller?
Help a sister out.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
I am actually not really scared of insects in general. Seeing a pincher bug crawling around in my bathtub (seriously, HOW do they get in there?!) doesn't send me screaming for cover, flies don't make me weep in fear, mosquitoes just annoy me, butterflies are prrrrrretty.
Spiders though...spiders freak me out a little. If I see the little sucker in advance, ok, no problemo, grab that thing with tissue, squish it, flush it. Hasta la vista baby. The problem with spiders though is you almost never just spot them, they sneak up on you.
You're minding your own business, trying to fall asleep in bed and wait...what's that? There's something...crawling...up your arm. You're getting in the shower and one darts past your hand down the shower curtain. You're playing with your sister's nunchucks and one pops out of it's egg and leaps at you (that one's for you Amber). I am pretty darn sure they do this on purpose to humans just to mess with us.
You ever notice that they are really hard to kill? That's why I don't just squash, I flush 'em. Because one time I squashed and just tossed it in the toilet without flushing and when I came back later that frakin' spider was ALIVE and making a valiant attempt to free itself from its watery grave. THEY ARE NOT IMPRESSED WITH YOUR PUNY ATTEMPTS TO SQUASH THEM STUPID HUMANS. They bounce back and then...oh then...they seek revenge.
Spiders are part of what the Italians call La Famiglia. Yes, there is a spider mafia. Yes, they will send out reinforcements to attack you if they find out their Cousin Vinny has been hurt. That's why you flush them as fast as you can before they can send out a distress signal. Because God help you if the call goes out...and it's answered by the enforcers of the family. You think that spider you killed in your bathroom was big? Just wait.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
My new neighbors whose living room windows face my parking spot have two of these little guys. And EVERY morning they freak out when I'm walking to my car and try to get me through the windows. What? I'll throw down with you little midget dogs. Bring the funk. Bring the noise. I'm not scared. I will punt you to the Rose Bowl.
Disclaimer: I wouldn't have a problem with them if they weren't so annoyingly loud. I love dogs. I don't have a problem with little dogs unless they are yappy. Except chihuahuas, I just don't like them on principle.