bloodyrosemccoy: (Do They Want Tea?)
If you haven't already seen The Oatmeal's Columbus Day comic, I suggest you go read it now. It's stomach-churning but informative.*

Mom had read Lies My Teacher Told Me and other such books, and when I was still in grade school she set the record straight on just how enthusiastic a participant Columbus was in the Worst Genocide In Recorded History. It made sitting through that bullshit cartoon about his heroism ... awkward, at best. (Also as it turns out, raising your hand and confidently asking your teacher when we were going to address how Columbus was a Very Bad Dude and everyone already knew the Earth was round and also he DIDN'T discover America because dude there were already natives and anyway Leif Erikson, is going to make her panic. Poor lady shut me down like the next sentence I uttered would unleash Cthulhu.) I also really hated learning about the Conquistadors, because it was, let's be frank, A Fucking Awful Story. So Columbus Day was always a bit uncomfortable for me.

But no more! For now The Oatmeal has educated me about Bartolomé de las Casas, who was actually a Spaniard who (eventually) decided that mass murder/enslavement/rape/plunder/cultural eradication/pretty much bringing on the New World Apocalypse were NOT cool and tried to stop all that shit from going down. Which is much more worthy of celebration.

So happy Bartolomé Day, everyone! And let's learn our lessons from the past and try not to let any more mass murdering fuckheads get holidays, shall we?


*Minor nitpick: Abraham Lincoln technically does not have his own federal holiday; the official title of Presidents' Day is Washington's Birthday. Many states have changed it to "Presidents' Day," in honor of Lincoln, but the federal holiday remains Washington's.

R.i.Pod

Sep. 21st, 2013 11:39 pm
bloodyrosemccoy: (Not So Lucky)
Lost my iPod for my birthday. THAT'S NOT HOW IT'S SUPPOSED TO WORK.

And I didn't just lose it. As I was getting out of the car for my job interview (which went pretty well, I think), I grabbed at it and somehow managed to flip it off the jack plugging it into the car's tape player. And then the motherfucking thing must have TELEPORTED INTO ANOTHER DIMENSION, because it was fucking NOWHERE after that. I checked the surrounding pavement to make sure it hadn't flipped straight out of the car, then figured it hadn't and decided I'd rummage for it after the interview/when I was no longer in a dark parking garage.

Obviously, it wasn't there, either.

My working theory is that it was stolen by little undercarriage aliens from the 8th Dimension. [livejournal.com profile] gwalla recently suggested that my gallbladder had been replaced by one of those aliens, and so my guess is that after I killed it, its friends retaliated. I choose to believe this rather than that it has been flattened by a car or appropriated by some other parking garage denizen, because to be perfectly honest I prefer a world like this to the one where some creep is cruising through the weird shit on my iPod.

At least now Dad knows what to get me for my birthday.
bloodyrosemccoy: (Not So Lucky)
OKAY, I think I have completed my 127-step click'n'drag repair job on my sudden-onset amnesia iPod.* After that whole mess, I am 100% looking forward to a nice short simple laparoscopic cholecystectomy. Now to see if and when the doctor is available ...


*I am led to understand that if I had done something shady with it to unlock all the proprietary bullshit the fix would have taken roughly 12 seconds. Really not making a case for staying legit, there, Apple.
bloodyrosemccoy: (Movie Sign)
For some years now the grocery store nearest our house has been slowly descending into a dystopian wasteland. The setup is haphazard, the bakery and deli are half-assed at best, most of the stock is from this terrible off-brand company that seems to make all of its products from soup to pecans with a 3D printer, and the most helpful employee in the store seems like the kind of guy whose most treasured possession is a chainsaw named after his mother.* It has become an unpleasant experience.

So we've started going to a farther away, but much more pleasant store, which is like sunshine and butterflies compared to the nuclear winter of our local place. It's got friendly staff, delicious local artisan organic free range everything, lovingly set up displays, delicious chicken salad sandwiches, and an all-around better selection of products. And it only occasionally tries to kill you.

Today, for instance. Today Mom and I were walking in for a shopping run for the office, and Mom was straight up assaulted in the doorway. By the door.

As it turns out, getting whacked in the ribs by a rogue automatic sliding door is REALLY GODDAMN PAINFUL. Mom couldn't even indulge in some therapeutic swearing, because after an initial "FUCK" whooshed out of her all her breath was gone. She staggered in and sat down. We both decided that it was important to tell someone about this, if for no other reason than that the store is constantly swarming with really old people (I guess old people like pleasant grocery stores, too) and if that door hit a little old lady with osteoperosis, it might crush her to powder. So we asked for a manager.

HELPFUL LOUD GIRL: YEAH, THE DOOR IS BROKEN. I'M SORRY, I THOUGHT IT WAS STUCK! IT HIT YOU? I'LL GET SOMEONE!
THE SOMEONE SHE GOT: What's up?
HELPFUL LOUD GIRL: THE DOOR HIT HER! I'M GOING TO GO TURN IT OFF COMPLETELY BECAUSE IT HIT HER AND THAT'S DANGEROUS AND IT'S WARM ENOUGH WE CAN JUST TURN IT OFF AND LEAVE IT OPEN SO I'LL DO THAT NOW!
CUSTOMER AT SELF-CHECK-OUT, WHERE HELPFUL LOUD GIRL IS SUPPOSED TO BE STATIONED: Can I get my 5¢ bag discount please?
HELPFUL LOUD GIRL: JUST AS SOON AS I TURN OFF THIS DOOR SO IT DOESN'T HIT ANYONE ELSE!
MOM: *wheeze*
THE SOMEONE: I'll go get a manager.
THE SOMEONE: in the distance Manager! Some lady slammed into the door!
ME: I could write a linguistics monograph on how she worded that.
MOM: Ha--OW. Don't make me laugh.
ME: Are you going to live?
MOM: I think I bruised a rib. I'll let you know if my lung starts to collapse.
HELPFUL LOUD GIRL: I TURNED THE DOOR OFF. I THINK THAT'S BEST. I DIDN'T ASK MANAGEMENT BECAUSE I KNOW THIS IS WHAT THEY WANT AND WE DON'T WANT ANYONE ELSE HURT AND--
ME: Thank you! That's good! I think that self-check-out lady is going to whack you with a mop in a second.
HELPFUL LOUD GIRL: OH, RIGHT. BUT THE DOOR IS OFF, JUST SO YOU KNOW!
MANAGER: I am concerned about this.
ME: Join the club.
MOM: Nah, I can walk it off, it's a good hurt. I just won't inhale for a few days.
MANAGER: Are you going to hypothetically see a doctor?
MOM: No plans at the moment, but I'll keep you informed.
MANAGER: Are you going to sue us, hypothetically?
ME: That depends. Are you hypothetically interested in giving us some free chicken salad sandwiches?
MOM: Shut up, dear. As to suing you, I'm thinking no. I just want this written down somewhere.

So we got that all squared away and continued shopping. All the other employees expressed concern over Mom's clearly pained demeanor. It was still the nicest damn grocery store we'd ever been to.

ME: I knew there had to be something wrong with this place.
MOM: And yet we still prefer it to our local dystopia.
ME: Well, sure. That off-brand Soylent Green they sell is awful. Probably not even made of real people.

Our luck this week had better improve, because with Mom's flattening and my brother's broken hand, we've got two casualties heading into Family Awesome Time. Here's hoping nobody gets eaten by a bear or something.


*He is actually pretty helpful, though. Never says a word, but if you ask him where something is he'll immediately leave whatever he was doing and lurch off silently, and if you follow him he'll lead you directly to the item. Then he vanishes like a ghost back to the stockroom or wherever.
bloodyrosemccoy: (Old Spice Onna Horse)
Got my squash all planted today! It feels really late, but the packets did say "one week after last frost," and that means I'm right on the nose there. Now if I can only keep them planted, what with all the garden pests going around digging them back up. And by "garden pests," I mean Mom'n'Dad. They're worse than gophers. And like gophers, their own goals are totally reasonable to them. They are fixing up the staircase down to my garden, which is really nice of them, but it seems to necessitate digging up all the seeds I had just so carefully planted.

But at least the corn and the sunflowers both seem to be on their way up! And I didn't actually kill my tomato starts, so that's always good.

Also, apparently there is catnip in the garden. Either that or my cat is really interested in botany.

I can only imagine what it must be like to be mobbed by scrub jays when you're stoned. The cat reports that it is not a lot of fun, though.

---

Meanwhile, my sister sent me an author! Or, at least, there was an author doing a debut book tour at my sister's book shop, and they struck up a conversation, and somehow I came up. And when my sister found out the nice author lady would be doing an appearance at one of our local bookshops, she told me to go find her.

I'm not sure how this will work out--nice author lady writes thrillers and I do not--but it's nice to have someone cheering for you. And I returned the favor of cheering, all like "Dude, you got published! High five!"

---

I may actually be almost maybe going to start my museum job this week! Possibly. I still have no idea what it entails--in fact, since the orientation, I have LESS of an idea. I will let y'all know on Tuesday what is up there.

---

And in "The Arbitrary Rules Of Life Still Hold" news, the month of May has not at all relaxed its Ahab-like vendetta against my family. It's been piling stressful and uncool things all over us this month. I'm just hoping the barrage ends before, say, we discover the cat's been running a meth lab in the basement when it suddenly explodes or something. That would fit right in with my May, dammit. Let's just skip right along to June, shall we?
bloodyrosemccoy: (Why)
I really wish [livejournal.com profile] metaquotes hadn't descended into wanky lunacy a while ago. There needs to be an outlet for the hilarious things I find on LJ, and Metaquotes has been taken over and then gutted by whiners. Anybody know another community that's just funny?
bloodyrosemccoy: (Movie Sign)
See, this is what I get for keeping my Famous Screensaver in the software equivalent of the Bronze Age: the darn thing just fucking disappeared on me.

So I Asked The Internet and, yes, the Software-Die-Hardosphere is absolutely FLIPPING ITS SHIT because Webshots just went nova. Which, given how out-of-date the code was, still lasted pretty admirably. Sure, from the ashes shall rise a New System, Greater Than Before, but in the meantime my screensaver and desktop have become stunted. Because of a peculiarity of the software and the way I use it, this means I've lost all my fancy professional photos of The Grandeur of Nature, and yet I still have every bit of bullshit concept art with which to populate whatever program I go after next.

Bummer, man. I really LIKED all those nature photos.

Ah, well. Off to collect some new ones. fortunately, since I started on this whole internet thing in junior high, the number of awesome images has increased exponentially. I will not be lacking nature for long!
bloodyrosemccoy: (Not So Lucky)
Took my sister to her doctor appointment yesterday. The orthopedic office is way bigger than our own, with a fish tank in the waiting room, and the place is pretty chilly. I watched the fish while waiting for her to register, and then it came time to Sit And Wait for the doctor to come find her. I was starting to pull on my jacket as I sat down, chatting with my sister about important things like Disney songs and how you can have a Mexican Standoff with yourself, and suddenly my brain received a priority one message from my elbow.

The message was: OW.

This required further information. First question: Why does my elbow feel abruptly like it’s been shot? Second question: WHAT THE HELL IS A HORNET DOING THERE?

They say that rushes of adrenalin and other pain hormones can cause humans to perform almost superhuman feats. Yesterday I proved it. In the space of about two seconds I had whipped off my jacket, furiously swept the bug off my elbow, and then busted through the world’s most manic rendition of the Bug Stomping Tarantella—and all without shrieking even ONE swear word that might offend a roomful of pleasant, brace-wearing Mormons. Adversity truly leads to heroism.*

I still have no idea how the hornet got there. I can’t interrogate her, since my self-defensive bug fu squashed her flat, but I am slightly afraid of that jacket now. You never know where an entire hive of angry bugs might be lurking.


*I checked with my sister to make sure I hadn’t unleashed a storm of profanity without noticing. She confirmed that I did not, though I did manage a pretty good ARGH or two.
bloodyrosemccoy: (Simon's Cat)
Good news, everyone! The cat is almost entirely de-skunked. She got another bath* today in the magic H2O2 + baking soda solution and then a shampooing, which she endured with stoic resolve. And she was downright thrilled when, once dry, she got brushed (to get some of the contaminated fur off her) and given head scrumbles.** Given that she's been exiled to The Outsides since Saturday, I think she's missed cuddlings.

She still gets to stay in her spacious garage accommodations for a while longer, since when you get up close she still stinks and that's not the kind of thing you want on the furniture. But she smells almost clean and looks a lot happier. Understandably, since her own nose probably feels a lot clearer now that it doesn't have quite so strong a skunk stink in it.

Skunks, man. Don't mess with those guys.


*Yes, another. The last time she got skunked (there was a last time), one bath was enough to neutralize the stink. I don’t know what the hell she was doing this time to get what appears to have been a point-blank magnum blast right between the eyes, but it was exponentially worse. It was like a goddamn FORCE FIELD of stink. You'd get within fifteen feet of her and your body would be like WHAM into a wall of acrid thiols. Took some real bravery, mostly from Mom, to get close enough to wash her that first time around.

**Though she has clearly hostile feelings toward the blow dryer.

Unholy

Jun. 9th, 2012 02:13 am
bloodyrosemccoy: (Movie Sign)
The cat would like to rescind her earlier assertion that carpet cleaning is the worst thing in the world. She now realizes that the worst thing in the world is skunks.

Honestly, I can see her point on the matter.

On a related note, THANK GOD for the internet hive mind. I can't remember the de-skunking recipe offhand. Thanks, internet!
bloodyrosemccoy: (Eye Sweating)
All the tragedies in the world this week, and the one that moves my cold, dead heart to insonsolable sadness is a dead bunny. I dunno why. The story just gets to me, in a way that even tragedies like murder don't. I can always get angry as well as sad with the senseless murder of a fellow human being. But this ... there's no real reason to be angry, so I'm just sad.

Bah. I'm starting to wallow again. I think we all need some happier bunnies, don't we?



Feeling slightly better now.
bloodyrosemccoy: (Not So Lucky)
The weird thing about a car accident is, while actually crashing, my brain goes completely deadpan. I’m not thinking “OH GOD I’VE CAUGHT THE SLUSH I’M SPINNING OUT,” I’m thinking, “Oh, great. I’m spinning out. Damn this is going to change my whole day—oh, that crunch sounded like my headlight hitting the barricade. … And now I’m facing the wrong way. But at least I’m I’m on the shoulder. Now. I suppose I should turn on the hazard lights and call someone.”

The irony of it is, I was going home early from work because it was looking ominous and snowy for once.

Anyway, yeah, so I’m okay mostly. My knee was braced against the dashboard and got whacked, the headache I’ve got is probably an indication that my brain got rattled around in my head a bit, and as the panic hormones wear off I’m sure I’ll notice a few more dings and bashes. But I’m not dead, so that’s a plus, anyway.

Thanks, all, for your concerns and sympathies. I’ll keep y’all posted if any new developments develop.
bloodyrosemccoy: (Movie Sign)
Hey, guys! Guess who got in a car crash this afternoon?
bloodyrosemccoy: (Toph is Unamused)
Once again, I am somewhat underwhelmed by the SNOW APOCALYPSE!!!!! predicted by our local weather guys. Unless the language changed while I wasn't looking and "IT WILL SNOW 80 FEET" now means "It'll rain a bit."

Maybe we should employ the weather guys as a magic blizzard prevention team. Hey, it's working so far.
bloodyrosemccoy: (Geek On)
Trying to find a book on the history of astrology and its influences on the world, which isn’t hard to find. The tricky part is finding an author who doesn’t feel the need to constantly insist that astrology is TRUE DAMMIT. Bit surprising, really—I’d have expected it to be impartial, but the last author waxed strongly poetic about how empty astronomy is without astrology, and how astrology gives lives meaning and connects us to the greater universe in a tangible way, and other such bullshit.

Thing is, as an anthropology nerd, I find astrology fascinating. Not for its objective truth; one can be interested in urban legends, or religions, or fairy tales, without thinking they’re actual truths. No, I like to see what a complex mythology like that says about the people who made it up, and how a human-generated system influences how humans actually behave. It doesn’t matter if the position of Jupiter actually affects a person’s life*; what matters is that the person behaves as if it does.

I kinda wish I could find a book that sees the difference.

And yes, this is more research for writing. I’m trying to add some more mythology into the OGYAFE culture, and they just can’t get enough of their stars. If nothing else, it gives me some good place names to work with.


*It says you should spend the rest of the week face-down in the mud.
bloodyrosemccoy: (Beastly)
Index finger aches from banging on Nook screen. I miss homerow.

Broke

Aug. 11th, 2011 07:44 pm
bloodyrosemccoy: (Not So Lucky)
Dude, I just found out my computer is magical.

Last night it turned from a laptop to a desktop before my very eyes!

Of course, this is the kind of trick it can only do once--not because we might figure it out upon multiple viewings, but more due to the way a screen lamp can only burn out once before it's, y'know, burned out. And, unfortunately, the trick is not reversible.

So my computer is broke. Conventional wisdom suggests the best course of action when you laptop screen breaks is to buy a new laptop. I've never liked the idea of disposable electronics--if I buy something, I want to get real use out of it, which may explain why my iPods and cell phones and whatnot stay around until they literally fall apart. Now, yes, things develop fast, and I won't eschew a new thing if I think it's a REAL improvement over its predecessor, but you gotta impress me. I won't buy something just because it's the latest. It has to be really useful. Like how the Nook I'm typing this on is really portable and saved me from having to buy another bookshelf.

Plus, I like this Lappy.

So my options are to grab a spare monitor (we have those here in Casa de Nerd) and make Lappy a Compy, or replace the screen if the manufacturer is willing. Both options mean limited intersocks for a bit, because typing on an e-reader is annoying as all hell, dammit. Get me a keyboard any day.

Syzygy

Jul. 29th, 2011 06:11 pm
bloodyrosemccoy: (Bat Signal)
The weird thing is, my brother just had surgery, too—on his hand. Why is it that breakdowns never come in singles, but always multiples?

Let’s just hope this doesn’t affect my brother’s Gaming Thumb. That would be a great loss to the world.
bloodyrosemccoy: (Licking)
OKAY, I think we got LJ all working nicely again. What’d we all miss?

Me, I had quite a week. Rich and full experiences, that’s my life: futzed around in the garden, got bossed around by my micromanager, lost another coworker to the deep discontent around the library and the lure of Living Free And Easy, lost a favorite patron to That End Which Awaits Us All, finished a necklace and made an earring, gave up on the X-Files, started Fringe, and wrote a bunch of OGYAFE stuff.

Oh, and also there’s the whole, y’know, SURGERY business. That’s going on.

Seems that while I was away I picked up some kind of gallbladder inflammation. It announced its presence in the middle of a cart of books I was shelving on Saturday. It felt like this:


An apt metaphor for so many of life’s little golden moments, this.

So I mentioned this to my supervisor, who ordered me to get rid of the stupid thing. Sounded like sage advice, but I figured I’d get a second opinion from someone who was not a librarian. So after a few days spent curled in a fetal position cursing the cold unfeeling universe, I went to see Dr. Hyper, a woman I’ve always liked but whose actual name I could never spell.

DR. HYPER: So it hurts more whenever you eat anything?

ME: I’m down to dry Cheerios. Nothing makes you feel more like a three-year-old.

DR. HYPER: That is the right thing to do. Now let’s see if we can get this solved.

ME: Good, because I’m really hungry.


Then she poked at my abdomen.


ME: *squeak!*

DR. HYPER: I haven’t even poked you yet. My hand is still a foot away.

ME: I can’t help it. It was a dark day when my friends found out that even poking in my general direction makes me the Pillsbury Doughboy.

DR. HYPER: Okay, now I’m going to poke your back.

ME: But the pain isn’t in my baaAAAAAAaack—well, what do you know.

DR. HYPER: The pain does refer sometimes.


After that I went to get an ultrasound, which didn’t show anything,* and so I got to have another test: the Making You Lie Perfectly Still In A Tube For Two Goddamn Hours While They Blast Radioactive Dye Into Your Veins Test. Your job is to lie down and try not to think about just how much your nose itches. It itches a lot.


RADIOLOGIST: Okay, you’re all done! How are you feeling?

ME: … I just got out of the TUBE, man!

RADIOLOGIST: You’ll get the report from your doctor in a bit.

ME: Just as long as it’s not a queen.


And yes, I did get the report, just a few minutes ago, and after analyzing it carefully to see the cause of my distress, Dr. Hyper concluded—let me tell you, modern medicine is great—“Fuck if I know.”

So my gallbladder looks fine, but let me tell you internet, it does not feel fine. Doctor Hyper’s got some other options, such as Taking An Antacid For A Couple Weeks or, if that doesn’t work, Carving Out The Damn Thing Anyway, Because Often That Does Seem To Fix Things Even If Nothing Else Shows Up On The Test. So depending on how things go in the next couple of weeks, I either get better, or I get surgery. Either way, I plan to whine about it quite a bit.

Aren’t you glad LJ’s back?


*But it was more pleasant than the last ultrasound I got checking for ovarian cysts, since this time I didn’t have to drink a quart of water half an hour before the scan just to make my bladder visible. Especially obnoxious when you’re in eighth grade and “half an hour before the scan” is “math class.” I damn near exploded before I even got all gelled up.
bloodyrosemccoy: (WHINE)
I have a big ugly cheese oil stain on my wonderful new jeans. I HAVE THE SADDEST LIFE IN THE WORLD.

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