Halcyon

Halcyon

Speaking of calm and peaceful, it's Gay Pride this weekend in Minneapolis! Happy Gay Pride all you wonderful gay, lesbian, transgender, bisexual, allied, queer, trisexual, and "Don't you be labelin' me!" personages! I love gay pride. Look for me in the parade walking with the Quatrefoil Library. I'll be the white guy, average build, average weight, light brown hair, wearing shorts and a T-shirt. Can't miss me! Plus, check the library's booth out in Loring Park - the library's having its annual book sale - you'll get some bitchin' good deals on some bitchin' good books! And if yer there Saturday afternoon, say HI! to my friend "J." - she'll be the one with the purple hair.

Unfortunately, you know what holiday now bums me out? Arbor Day. Remember when it was about going out and planting a tree? So commercial now! Ironic how all those trees we planted are now being used to celebrate the day of planting trees by taking the trees we planted and turning them into party favors. Seriously, between Hallmark, Fanny Farmer, and Ray-Ban, another good holiday gone to the dogs (as it were).

I'm just glad that Millard Fillmore Day is still understated albeit appreciated throughout this great democracy of ours. But you just wait and see - those corporado Yuppies who want another three-day weekend will spoil it by putting MFD on the closest Monday to the Great Man's birthday. Mark my word - that happens and instead of celebrating the Man and the Legend, it will be just another excuse to eat excessive pea soup and drink excessive grape Fanta.

Thus I am starting a letter/email writing campaign called "Millard Fillmore Day: Remember the Reason for the Season!" Many of you are reading this at work. That's good because you have time right now to write to your senators and congressers and tell them to keep the Great Man's Day great. And remember, on the heading on your letter or email, be sure to put "Millard Fillmore Day: Remember the Reason for the Season!" We must show that we are a proactive, unified group who are not to be trifled with.


Fight the good fight.

Amative

Amative

You know how I've said in the past that I do a quick web and image search with the day's word to get the grey-matter juices flowing? Yeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaa...don't do it with this word if yer at work. Who knew that the porn peddlers were so eloquent? Evidently the public leans towards the "especially" part of the definition. Best part, though, is that right in the middle of the images was a picture of this castle which appears to have nothing to do with anything. Especially mystifying to us who see only in black and white, the castle wasn't even started until the mid-1700 - the Age of Enlightenment - so there's not even the whole Middle Ages romanticism going on. These people were not referring to their women as 'randy wenches.'*

I have a question - how is someone dying romantic? Remember Love Story? Moulin Rouge!? Romeo and Juliet?** How is the death of the love interest at the end romantic? I don't get it. I mean, somehow, way down deep inside I do, but it just doesn't seem right to me. It certainly isn't romantic in real life, why is it romantic in fiction? So of course, I did a search. The ad at the top of the results page was rather revealing (no pun intended). Or not. But I did find this. If someone could read that and paraphrase it back to me, I would appreciate it. I will admit, as a geek, I often enjoy reading such papers, but I got to the phrase "excessive exogeny" and felt my eyes glaze over.

OK fine, I'll admit it. The reason the 'Sband and I have a solid relationship after 13 years is because on our third date we had The Discussion:

"Do you see your compatriots and consanguinity as being a source of minimal, mild, moderate, or excessive exogeny to this affiliation?"

We've been happy ever since.

*I think by then women had lost their sex drive, right? They were just closing their eyes and thinking of their duty to Mother England...?
**If you need a link for explanation...

Slimsy

Slimsy

I don't very often question what the fine folks at Merriam-Webster say about a word, but today, well, today they said:

"This doesn't have to stop you from using it though; "slimsy" is a blend of "slim" and "flimsy," and its meaning should be pretty much apparent to your audience if you're careful with the context."


Yea, if you wanna sound like yer a walkin' friggin' infomercial!! When I first saw the word in the title of the email I got from the dictionary dudes I cringed. Slimsy...yeech.

"Now you can get out of bed and go grocery shopping without even changing! It's flimsy for your husband and slimming for the public - it's the Slimsy!"*

"Want to lose weight and gain muscle without trying? Try the Slimsy program! So easy, you'll find yourself following it every day without even thinking! And without giving up the food or television you love! Yes, you'll be able to follow this program to the 'S' - for Slimsy!"**

"Are your children not giving you the grandchildren you deserve and have the God-given right to demand? Give them a box of Slimsy condoms! wink! You're the only one who has to know..." 

Oh, by the way, if you do decide to start your own product/infomercial using Slimsy, you'll need to change the name for South Africa.

*I'm just gonna let your imagination figure out what it actually looks like.
**"The Slimsy program is not recommended for people who have been advised to lose weight by their physician. The Slimsy program does not guarantee weight loss or muscle gain. In fact it doesn't guarantee anything."

Facilitate

Facilitate

Our modern society has stuff to facilitate anything. And thanks to our never-ending supply of refined oil products, we have two, count 'em two, cookie dunkers. We have this first one which is only for Hydrox.* I find this rather useless because it's only good for one type of cookie. Who wants to eat just Hydrox for the rest of your life? And I'll admit, I've never understood the whole dunking the sandwich cookie - it's not like they actually absorb the milk.

The second is for all cookies. It's more useful because it is for all cookies, but why do they need that smiley face enclosure part? As a mother of three kids, let me say that that just makes it all the more difficult to clean!** The best thing about this dunker is that under Contact, their email address is 'dunkyourcookie@aol.com.' Wow, so many levels.

But, the cookie dunkers are probably the most useful thing to come our way since Write 1.4 as compared to this. (I can't make this crap up!)

*I like this brand more than that other one - it's the underdog and the name is totally cool.
**That's what I'd say if I actually was the mother of three kids. I'm thinking if we ever move out to the country, I'm gonna get a couple goats so I can reply "Why thanks for asking, the 'Sband and I do have a coupla kids. They live in the barn out back, but don't worry, we spend time with them."

Divertissement

Divertissement

Wouldn't life be just that much more wonderful if we could have a bit of divertissement? That's what I thought, too! Thus many years ago after I won a huge amount of money in the lottery, I hired a small dance troupe to come and divert me throughout the day. It was an eight-person troupe, and they would hang out in a van until I needed them. Between paying the dancers, feeding them, the van, and the driver, you can imagine that this put me back a bit. Unfortunately the first week I forgot I had hired them - I mean really, can you blame me? I'm not used to having a dance troupe at my beck and my call. Finally I said to the 'Sband,

"Why is that van following us around everywhere?"

"That's that dance troupe you hired."

Right! I had hired a dance troupe! At the time we were heading to Target on Lake St cuz I needed new socks. The 'Sband and I get out, and the dance troupe gets out, and we all walk into the store. I figured hey, now is as good a time as any for a divertissement. 

"Ok," quoth I to the quarterback, or whatever the lead dancer is called, "divertisse us!"

I was expecting perhaps a little Swan Lake or Nutcracker or something. But instead, two of them starting hopping up and down in place, a few of them started whipping their hands around and taking giant steps around us and the others flapped their arms like they were wings and started pecking at the racks of women's clothes!

"Whoa! Whoa!" quoth I. "What the hell are you doing?"

The lead dancer dude, the coach, whatever, swept in front of us, grasping above him like there were grapes hanging from the ceiling. "We are....dancing!!!"

"No yer not - yer just...hopping around!"

"Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you and your dance troupe to leave."

Oh crap. 

"It is our vignette called "Shopping...at...TARGET!" He moved his hands in front of his face like he was trying to separate the air.

"Can't you do some pirouettes or something?"

He was obviously scandalized - his arms dropped to his sides and his eyes went the size of nectarines. "We do not do that old-fashioned claptrap! We do...emotions!" More separation of the air.

"Sir, you and all these people..."

"Uuuuh...do you even know how to pirouette? Oh my God, you don't know how!"

Nectarines again. "I've never been so insulted in all my life! We have performed coast to coast!* We have performed for Her Majesty the Queen!** Carnegie Hall!*** We don't need you...you...philistine! Come, dancers...to the van!"

And they all walked out.

Ends up that evidently they did need me cuz although I didn't want their services, they kept me to the six-month contract I had signed. Stupid contracts. Unfortunately, there went all my winnings, too. It was a very expensive day. Stupid socks. 

*Between Leech Lake and Lake Vermillion. 

**Some drag queen at the Gay 90s.

***The Carnegie Library in Brainerd.