![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
A Handful Of Delicious Snack-Size Snarks
Feb. 1st, 2010 04:24 pmYou know why I hate February? Even the sunny weather is drab.
It’s been a lousy winter overall, reinforced by the information superhighway. Here I’m reading about how everyone on my friendslist is tits-deep in THE SNOW, and we haven’t even gotten enough to make drivers skittish.* And now all we’ve got left are the freak April snowstorms, whose only purpose is to make everyone remark to everyone else “It’s snowing! In APRIL!” all day.
February is my least favorite month anyway, followed closely (and chronologically!) by March. If spring is the glorious dawn of a new seasonal cycle, then February is the insipid pre-dawn when you wake up 25 minutes before your alarm goes off at ass o’clock, and you try to roll over and use those 25 minutes but it’s too late because your bladder is awake too and CAN’T WAIT.
In conclusion, I’m glad February is short.
Speaking of snowflakes, though, I’d like to address the kid who kept circumventing the queue to speak to the librarians on duty to ask me questions, and who became annoyed when I’d send him back to the desk to wait in line. Kid: You are a special snowflake, but there are lots and lots of snowflakes here who need attention. Also, the analogy loses something when you realize that snowflakes fall softly, but if you harass me one more time, I guarantee that you will not.
Work was worth it, though, just to see the fiction selector attempt to tear her hair out upon the discovery that some kindhearted soul, who obviously didn’t read![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ursulav’s recent post on the subject, felt the library really needed 25 gently-read supermarket paperbacks dumped into the book bin as a donation. I didn’t even know they made contemporary suspenseful inspirational** romances.
I wasn’t about to stick around at the Liberry after work, though. I’m exhausted—I did get up early today—and need a nap. Later I will manage to work on Torn World communiques, but first things first.
(Tune in next time as Amelia puts another spin on the humorful foibles of demographically broad everyday life, with such rants as “Cats And Humans Often Work At Cross-Purposes,” “Air Travel: It Sucks What With The Security And All,” and “FEMININE HYGIENE PRODUCTS AM I RIGHT LADIES”!)
*Even in Salt Lake, drivers can get SNOW DAY MOVIE SIGN—some have just come here from some wuss place like California, and others just seem to forget that it snows every year here.
**Inspirational books, especially inspirational romance, are like the February of books. “Inspirational” is usually code for “WASP-oriented” in book talk, with emphasis on faith in the drabbest types of Protestantism in existence (around here, Mormonism). I read their back covers a lot in a sort of train-wreck fascination, because they always say something like “Jenny Johnson swore off boyfriends after her high school sweetheart who of course she never did more than kiss dumped her. Now she sells insurance or something, . But things get turned upside-down when Chet, the dashing Ken Doll, moves into town. He’s probably a writer or something romantic like that, and he’s attracted to Jenny’s quiet strength because it’s all he can be attracted to. It’s not like she has a personality, for crying out loud. We’re WASPs, remember? Anyway, will Jenny be able to find love and faith and move on from her job to become a family woman? (Yes.)”
It’s been a lousy winter overall, reinforced by the information superhighway. Here I’m reading about how everyone on my friendslist is tits-deep in THE SNOW, and we haven’t even gotten enough to make drivers skittish.* And now all we’ve got left are the freak April snowstorms, whose only purpose is to make everyone remark to everyone else “It’s snowing! In APRIL!” all day.
February is my least favorite month anyway, followed closely (and chronologically!) by March. If spring is the glorious dawn of a new seasonal cycle, then February is the insipid pre-dawn when you wake up 25 minutes before your alarm goes off at ass o’clock, and you try to roll over and use those 25 minutes but it’s too late because your bladder is awake too and CAN’T WAIT.
In conclusion, I’m glad February is short.
Speaking of snowflakes, though, I’d like to address the kid who kept circumventing the queue to speak to the librarians on duty to ask me questions, and who became annoyed when I’d send him back to the desk to wait in line. Kid: You are a special snowflake, but there are lots and lots of snowflakes here who need attention. Also, the analogy loses something when you realize that snowflakes fall softly, but if you harass me one more time, I guarantee that you will not.
Work was worth it, though, just to see the fiction selector attempt to tear her hair out upon the discovery that some kindhearted soul, who obviously didn’t read
ursulav’s recent post on the subject, felt the library really needed 25 gently-read supermarket paperbacks dumped into the book bin as a donation. I didn’t even know they made contemporary suspenseful inspirational** romances.I wasn’t about to stick around at the Liberry after work, though. I’m exhausted—I did get up early today—and need a nap. Later I will manage to work on Torn World communiques, but first things first.
(Tune in next time as Amelia puts another spin on the humorful foibles of demographically broad everyday life, with such rants as “Cats And Humans Often Work At Cross-Purposes,” “Air Travel: It Sucks What With The Security And All,” and “FEMININE HYGIENE PRODUCTS AM I RIGHT LADIES”!)
*Even in Salt Lake, drivers can get SNOW DAY MOVIE SIGN—some have just come here from some wuss place like California, and others just seem to forget that it snows every year here.
**Inspirational books, especially inspirational romance, are like the February of books. “Inspirational” is usually code for “WASP-oriented” in book talk, with emphasis on faith in the drabbest types of Protestantism in existence (around here, Mormonism). I read their back covers a lot in a sort of train-wreck fascination, because they always say something like “Jenny Johnson swore off boyfriends after her high school sweetheart who of course she never did more than kiss dumped her. Now she sells insurance or something, . But things get turned upside-down when Chet, the dashing Ken Doll, moves into town. He’s probably a writer or something romantic like that, and he’s attracted to Jenny’s quiet strength because it’s all he can be attracted to. It’s not like she has a personality, for crying out loud. We’re WASPs, remember? Anyway, will Jenny be able to find love and faith and move on from her job to become a family woman? (Yes.)”
