My First Venn Diagram

I was about 12 when I created my first Venn diagram (that I remember). I didn't realize that that's what I'd done, nor did I (shocking Nerdlinger admission) actually *draw* it out.

I was in the bathroom, probably sitting on the toilet (though that point is not particularly relevant). I was playing with the plunger (remember, 12) when I stuck it to the floor & pulled.

Up popped a floor tile.

"dammit!"

OK, I might not have cursed, but it was entirely possible - and possibly, you know, worse, as I'm pretty sure I've been a potty-mouth since I could talk. If I did, I *might* have been smart enough to keep it under my breath (but no guarantees).

"DAMMIT!!" Because I suddenly realized the following Reasons I Am Busted:

(Thank you, thank you. Yes, it's good to be back. OK OK, put down that rake, violence will solve nothing)

Open letter to Stone Fox about Twitter...

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Or anyone else who hasn't been sucked in by the twmadness, which is how you have to twrite anything to do with twitter, like "tweeple", and "twitterverse" or "I have to twour myself a twup of twoffee and twlace it with a twoverdose of twerioine or maybe just twjam my twpen in my tweye to make it stwop" (and I'm actually kind of surprised that spellcheck still doesn't recognize any of those words).
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Dear Stone Fox [and any and everyone else, as above],

Run. Run screaming if you have to.

But if you're still intrigued you CAN check it out without being "in" (www.twitter.com/harmzie or use the handle of anyone else you'd like to stalk observe). I don't know why the hell you would be. I can't explain why I'm there. Even less why Max (@nickrollout - ask him why he picked that name. I think you'll be dry-heaving pleasantly surprised!) is, since like I said, he can "monitor" my "activities" from afar. I'm just glad he told me he was. Not like I was doing anything crazy or un-marriage-like. But still. It's nice to know you're being watched. For me, Twitter usually kind of feels like no one's watching. Which if you don't feel crazy for being there in the first place, can kind of make you feel crazy.

There's lots of crazy on the internex, isn't there?

Do you think it's re-focusing crazy from elsewhere in the world or just making more crzzzay?

By the way, if it isn't obvious, I love Twitter and would love you to join us ... join us ... join us ...

UPDATE:
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twitter.com/nickrollout
twitter.com/fox_stone

All in one week. My work here is done (see you next week, SciFi Dad).

First Day

It's the first day of school and my kid has no shoes.

Shouldn't someone have sent me a memo or something?

They sent you three. One for each kid. Each one said: "they need a special, separate pair of shoes for the classroom". Each one said: "first day of school is on the 9th. Of September".

Shut up. That doesn't count. They need to send them with an electric shock attached to them. In your face. Rebut that one.

For all the good this does...

I was thinking about medical research today.

Not in the usual way that people think about medical research - as in "I sure hope they cure Cancer and Diabetes and Multiple Sclerosis soon" (I do think about that, but not this time). I was thinking about the medical leaps of faith, the paradigm shifts (I know, I hate that overused office politicos term, but it fits).

Picture it - in a lab, way back when:

"Hey, Dr Carter, you know, I was just sitting there staring into my coffee and started thinking."

"Oh? About what?"

"Well, we know that the very sensitive tissues within the nose and mouth and eyes - the 'mucous membranes' absorb things at a much faster rate than the tougher dermal layers in other areas of the body?"

"uh huhhhh. What about it"

"Wouldn't it stand to reason that ALL mucous membranes act in this way?"

"Sure, I suppose"

"So, what if we take a medication we need to administer and apply it rectally."

"Um... what?"

"Physically place the medication within the patient's rectum for quick dissolution"

"Are you saying we should shove pills up his ass?"

"Well, that's pretty crude, but yes, I suppose"

"---

"--- ga!"

"No, really. Don't you think that we'd be able to get quick absorption of pain relief medication or .."

"Well maybe, but STOP! Eww! Just eww! Come on, dude. What is wrong with you?"

"Well, can't we at least do a clinical trial?"

"Awww, come on... You're not going to make me put this before the medical ethics board, are you?"

"Yes. Here, I've already drawn up the proposal."

"Awww, duuuude."

"Just find out what they think"

Two weeks later

"So? What did they say?"

"Well, I presented it to them and most of them started out with a revulsion (although two of them had kind of a creepy grin). They listened intently and then dismissed me to discuss amongst themselves..."

"And what was their conclusion?"

"They said we could go ahead with the trial on one condition..."

"Which is?"

"The one who came up with the idea must NOT be involved in the study in any way."

[in case you were wondering WHY my mind went there - don't. But if you still are, I overheard someone alluding to the joke that ends "for all the good this does, I may as well be shoving them up my ass" That's my story and I'm sticking to it.]

I hate horses

...because every time I see them I fall in love with them all over again, and I want to have them again. And that sucks because I can afford neither the time, nor the energy, nor, of course, the money to venture down that road.

We were out at a family friend's farm for grandpa's birthday party and they had a two-week-old colt named Thunder.

"Hello, giant nose!"

Unrelated to horses, but: Harmzie & the BILs (and, well, Max, because he's not my BIL). They made a whirlwind trip in from Calgary for the occasion.

I'm Totally (Not) Going to Blogher!!!

I started a comment on The Bloggess's post today about Blogher that got too long. So rather than eat up miles of her comment area* and totally piss everyone off**, I though I'd just parlay that here and piss you off because you already love me. It's about Blogher and how she's going and hanging out in the bathroom. Go read it. I'll wait...[the part where she says "If you’re not going to Blogher then just skip this post" just ignore that. I know we're not supposed to ignore what The Bloggess says, but indulge me] ...................

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Totally jealous. But if I were to go, I'd probably be not be in the bathroom, because that seems to be where all the real bloggers are (or "bloghers"? See? I don't even know the difference).

But it would never get to that point, because if I even brought it up, Max would be all "what? why? you're not even a real blogger" and I'd be all "I'm as real a blogger as you are a squash player"*** and he'd be like "no way" and I'd be all "way", and he'd be all "you mean that thing you do that wastes time when you should be giving me hummers?" and I'd be all "dude, you *never* got hummers before I started my blog [not even before we were married -- or rather, early in our marriage, mom -- so there was no fraud there, in case you were wondering], but if that's what you want to blame it on *now*, then yes" and he'd say "It's not even real!" But I'd ask, "If I 'fake' my entire life, and am 'real' on my blog, which is actually real? And would I be 'real' in a room full of strangers, or would they be strangers or would I be the strange one, or just the drunk on the table trying to drown her public anxiety?" and he'd answer "well, we don't have enough air-miles for you to go anywhere. Plus you don't have a passport."

We often have 'real' (not the opposite of 'fake', but rather In Real Life) whole conversations where one of us will have the discussion with the other right in front of them without the other actually speaking. This "conversation" is usually summarized by "see? I don't even need you to have a conversation. I know exactly what you're going to say."

[crying in my lonely fake-blog beer. At least the beer is real. Except that it's a glass of wine. Or sometimes Gin + OJ + 7UP, which I still haven't named]

So, to summarize: what is the name of my Gin + OJ + 7UP drink? I'm taking suggestions. Remember, a Gin + OJ + 7UP + GRENADINE is a Singapore Sling. While delicious, that's just too many ingredients to keep on hand for the summer.

Yes, I have two, if not three posts to write to summarize last week. And three filthy kids to bathe. And a shit-hole home to tidy up. Yes, I'm stalling.

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*[like I used to do to Nenette and is a large part of the reason I started my own, because she said "GETTHEHELLOFFMYBLOGALREADY!" although she said it nice]

**[I'm too small to piss off The Bloggess, although if I did, everyone would be wondering "hey, who pissed off The Bloggess so bad?" and come here and find out and be all "Really? hmph"]

***[I would TOTALLY never say THAT in real life, because he's worked WAY harder and WAY longer on squash than I have on any of this. He's got like 175 squash followers. Maybe more. But they don't count them like that because they're all "we're way too fucking cool to bother with something as bourgeois as 'counting followers'" But if I were to spring the word "bourgeois" on them, they'd be all "I totally loved the 2003. It had a delightfully peppery after-taste"]