just call me seven

My Funny (non-existent) Valentine.
2 February 2008, 3:12 pm
Filed under: Cheesy Fiction, I Am A Geek, I'm a Big Dork

Well, I don’t have one yet, but what if this was how we met?

It’s nearly six o’clock on a blustery evening in the gray-colored month of March. The wind is blowing; the trees are rustling all around. A lonely bluebird warbles mournfully, high atop a power line. I am sitting in my living room with the blinds open so I can watch for the pizza guy… I hate it when they catch me off guard. My cash is sitting on the ledge by the door, ready to give to the (probably pimply-faced high-schooler) delivery man who soon will arrive.

My tummy rumbles… it’s been so long since I’ve had a pizza with the works. I can almost taste it now.

A silver 4-Runner pulls into my driveway, and a tall, dark-haired man steps out. He’s holding that huge red bag that keeps the pizzas warm in his left hand, and with his right gives his door a nudge to shut it. He strides purposefully up to my front door, and rings the doorbell with a rakish flair.

I open the door.

I stare for awhile (he is a handsome man).

“Pizza’s here,” he points out.

I come back to earth with a start. “Sorry. How much was it?” I ask.

“It’s on me,” he says.

I stare a little while longer. I think maybe I haven’t heard correctly, so I double-check: “What did you say?”

He says softly, “It’s on me. I paid for it already… you don’t need to pay.”

Light is beginning to dawn. “But why?” I ask. “Why would you do that?”

He clears his throat. “Well, I live on the other end of the street, and I’ve seen you and your sister walking around the neighborhood now and then. I noticed that you always wear pajama pants and baggy sweatshirts, and usually it looks like you haven’t showered in awhile. Your hair sticks up in some places and is plastered to your head in others, like you just woke up and all you did was run your fingers through it. And I thought to myself, ‘any woman who can walk around in public looking like that without seeming to care seems like an interesting woman to know.’ But I didn’t know how to meet you without seeming like a stalker, so I got a second job at Papa John’s and waited until I saw your address pop up on the delivery screen. I volunteered to take this delivery, and now here I am.”

I gently told him, “Some people might think getting a job at a pizza place in the hopes that you might be able to deliver to my house someday involves a little more in-depth stalking than just walking up to my door and introducing yourself.”

He looked a little crestfallen. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to creep you out.” He turned away.

“Wait,” I stammer, “You don’t have to go. I’m not creeped out. But before we talk any more, I do need to make a couple requests. First, what’s your name?”

“Jack Jones,” he replies, “What’s your second request?”

I pause. I’m not sure how to say this. I give it a whirl: “Can we eat this pizza while we talk? I’m starving!”


My New Band.
This looked like fun, so I decided to steal it. I got it from Hay, whose blog I found, I think, through Kerflop.Here’s the meme: You design the cover of your band’s album using these links:
1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random The first article title on the page is the name of your band.
2. http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3 The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album.
3. http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/ The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover. You then take the pic and add your band name and the album title to it, then post your pic.

Introducing my new band,
Universal Measuring Machine.
We proudly present our new album,
“Remains And Is Immortal.”

In Which I Mourn The Non-Seaworthiness Of Salt Waters.
5 December 2007, 10:49 pm
Filed under: I Am A Rat of the Packiest Variety, I'm a Big Dork, LaBloShoeMo

Day five of LaBloShoeMo.

I bring you… (drumroll please) Salt Water Sandals, official choice of children everywhere. And me.

Mine happen to be navy blue, and I just discovered tonight that one of the straps has come unsewn in the front of the left shoe. That is sad news indeed, and makes me wonder what my shoes are about in my shoe bucket that a sturdily sewn sandal could pop a strap, but I believe that somehow, I shall survive.

This is actually the second pair of Salt Waters I have owned, and they are exactly the same as my first pair. It’s a pretty funny story…

I went rafting down the Rogue River with my youth group one summer (long time ago… I was probably 16 or 17), and somehow had gotten in my head that because Salt Waters were called “Salt Waters” that they would probably be good shoes to wear in the water. I was mistaken of course… they were heavy and annoying. And when we got out of the water to jump off of this really tall rock into the river, I slipped and slid all over the place, because, let’s face it: Salt Waters have the least amount of traction out of any shoe on this green earth. I would rather hike in high heels, because at least they have a pointy part you can use for grip. So anyway… I made it to the top without killing myself, by the grace of God, so I jumped off.

You know how when you jump off the side of a pool, you take a quick breath and hold it? I did that, except I started running out of air, and I hadn’t hit the water yet. I had time to take 3 or 4 breaths before I finally hit… that’s how tall this rock was. I hit the water with a bang, and immediately started shooting back up, because I was chicken and wore my gay orange lifejacket. As I started getting sucked back to the surface, my right sandal was ripped from my foot. I tried to save it, but I was being pulled too fast to the surface. I came up and gasped for air, and tried to look around for my shoe, but the water was too muddy. I thought that maybe if I waited for awhile, it would show up, but I thought wrong. Did you know that Salt Waters sink to the bottom of a river faster than a lead factory would to the bottom of a puddle? Neither did I. I sat around wondering when my sandal was going to show up, and a slow puddle of dread formed in my gut. I took off the other sandal and did a test float… sunk like an anchor. I knew then that I would never see that right sandal again.

For some reason, I kept the left shoe for a long time… like a couple years. I’m not sure why. Perhaps I was waiting for someone to show up on my doorstep, Prince Charming-like, with the right one in hand, and say, “Excuse me, miss, but did you lose this on the Rogue last summer?” Then I would say, “Why, yes, I did… and here’s the other one!” And maybe then he would say, “I love your shoes… let’s get married,” or something equally ridiculous. And I would live happily ever after with both of my Salt Waters, and my Handsome Prince. Or maybe I thought that an amputee woman would have a garage sale one day, and I would happen to be there, and she would just happen to have one shoe that she didn’t need, and it would be a size 8 navy blue Salt Water sandal, the right one. And I would buy it for fifty cents, and THEN wouldn’t I be glad I’d hung on to the other one all these years?

Eventually I realized that I was the dumbest person on the planet, and that I was never going to come across just one sandal that would happen to be the correct size, color or style (not to mention that it had to be the RIGHT sandal), and that the space in my closet could be better devoted to other things.

A couple years ago, I was in Goodwill, checkin’ out the shoe section, and came across a pair of size 8, navy blue Salt Waters for somewhere around $4, so I snatched them up and hustled them home as fast as I could, where I proceeded to never wear them again (hardly ever).

Thanks to Smalls for her cute little face. You’re beautiful, sis.

In Which I Willingly Display Stupid Pictures Of Myself.

Oh My Stinkin Heck requires faces today… I shall oblige in order to (possibly) win some free jewelry.

Picture #1 I willingly snapped of myself, because we all know that faces you make on purpose are always more flattering than faces someone else catches you in the middle of, right?

Picture #2 is a photo that Smalls took of me yesterday, mid-cough. We were laughing, and since I’ve been sick, laughing makes me cough (wah, wah… poor me). So she managed to catch this “precious moment,” and I’m sure I’ll never live it down. She wouldn’t let me delete it, so what do I go and do? Share it with my precious Internets. I am a moron.

But anything for free stuff, right? So here you are… and try not to hit your head on the desk when you fall down from laughing so hard.

In Which I Pretend That I Actually Followed The Rules Of This Meme.
4 December 2007, 11:19 pm
Filed under: I'm a Big Dork, Of Course I'm Aware That This Is Inane

I didn’t actually get tagged for this, but I’m a sucker for everything that gets passed around the tubes of teh Internets, so here goes

The Rules:1. Put your iTunes/ music player on Shuffle
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
(this is in capital letters, so it is very serious. No hiding your showtunes, folks!)

After you’ve answered all of the questions, tag 5 other people and then let them know they’ve been tagged to do the meme themselves!

Edit– Regina Spektor

Travelin’ Band– Creedence Clearwater Revival

Have Your Way– Charlie Hines

I Need You– The Waiting

Better Things– The Kinks

The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades is Out to Get Us!– Sufjan Stevens

Carry You– The Fire Theft

Flotsam and Jetsam– Disney Orchestra & Choir (yes, I have the Little Mermaid soundtrack)

Autumn Almanac– The Kinks

WHAT IS 2+2?
Breathe You In– Addison Road

Smoke Without Fire– Bright Eyes

I Want You Back– The Waiting (Not so much…)

This Side of the Blue– Joanna Newsom

Slow Nerve Action– The Flaming Lips

Fallen Embers– Enya

Keep the Customer Satisfied– Simon & Garfunkel

Chewin the Apple of Your Eye– The Flaming Lips

Strange Apparition– Beck

The Skin of My Yellow Country Teeth– Clap Your Hands Say Yeah (yo, weird hobby.)

From My Own True Love (Lost At Sea)– The Decemberists

Stay in the Shade– Jose Gonzalez

In Which I Discuss (Pros and) Cons

*They are COOL. Come on, people.
*They are comfortable.
*You can get them dirty or draw on them, and they still look hip.
*No matter what color they are, they’re like a neutral: They go with everything.

*They make my feet cold (I have no idea why).
*They lack arch support.
*If I wear them for a long time, they’re not comfortable anymore.
*I can’t wear them with skirts like I’d like to, otherwise I look like I have cankles.

Day 4 of LaBloShoeMo: My Converse Chuck Taylors. The second most expensive pair of shoes I own (only my walking shoes cost more) (I believe I may have mentioned once or twice my lack of class in the shoe department)(Actually, that’s not right. I’m lying. I own a high-top pair of Cons that cost more than these). Shown here (in the top photo)(my, I’m overusing the parentheses this evening) with The Croodler’s muddy high tops which happen to be the same color (he wasn’t wearing them at the time (which is obvious))(what did I tell you about the parentheses? (I am hilarious (I think))).

Oh my. If anyone reads this, I am sorry. Not very, but a little bit.
Also, if anyone reads this, I love you. Please don’t unsubscribe, because that makes me stay up all night wondering what I said to make you leave. FeedBurner is the new crack. No joke.

We’re having Greek food tonight! I made hummus, tabouleh and tzatziki yesterday, and Smalls is makin’ piping hot pitas as I type. Must go help. And then feed. Woot!

In Which I Challenge You To Fight Me.
3 December 2007, 10:34 pm
Filed under: I'm a Big Dork, LaBloShoeMo, This Is My Family

Day Three of LaBloShoeMo 2007.

My trusty flipflops earn the spot today. These guys cost $10 at Target (I believe I’ve mentioned how classy my shoe collection is a couple times before), and are the most comfortable flipflops I’ve worn to date, except for a pair of Reefs that one of my friends used to own. My budget doesn’t include Reefs, though, so I content myself with the Target version.

If you’ll take a quick look at the bottom picture, you’ll notice that the toe of my right shoe is a little chewed up. In honor of my poor injured flipflops, and in order to pay homage to the injuries I myself received, I bring you the story of an incident that occurred earlier this year (September 11, to be exact) which involves pain and humiliation, and me being laughed at for WEEKS by my sister (who I’ve just now decided shall be named Smalls instead of Pippy) every time she remembered the incident. Without further ado:
So, I’ve been going to Curves lately to get some exercise. I didn’t feel like going today, so I said to Smalls, “Do you want to go on a walk with me?” and she said, “Sure.” So we walked around the block that’s kitty-corner from our house, then we walked around the block that our house is actually on. If this doesn’t make sense, don’t fret, don’t fret… this isn’t the funny part.
So we were walking, and kicking rocks, and when we were right about where our house was, only on the next street over, she started kicking her rock further than mine. Well, I wasn’t about to be outdone by a twelve-year-old, so I ran and kicked my rock. Only, rather than actually making contact with the rock and kicking it past hers, thereby winning, I proceeded to trip myself over my own feet. Yep. So I took a few crazy tilting steps, fell on my knee and skinned it, fell on my hands and got a nice case of road rash, and then, because I had so much forward momentum going on, fell the rest of the way down. I didn’t hit my face, thank the Lord, but really, I should have. Smalls started laughing, and so did I… because, let’s face it… falling is funny.
She asked if I was ok, and I said that I thought so. So I stood up and looked myself over, and noticed that my flip-flop is all chewed up at the toe, and hey, so is my own toe. I had a huge flap of skin flopping around on my big toe and bleeding into my sandal.
Smalls and I started walking home… and every few steps she cracked up again. She was making me laugh too, which was probably a good thing, because I was really shaky and all my shoulder muscles hurt, sort of like I gave myself whiplash from falling down so fast.
When we got home I made her get me a drink of water and some wet paper towels so I could clean myself off and my little nail scissors so I could cut the flap of skin off, because it had dirt stuck in it. And while I was tending to my wounds, Smalls started reading her book, but every few seconds she would lose it all over again. She had just recovered after one such laughing fit when I realized that the back of my hand hurt… I looked at it and it was all scraped up. I said, “How did I scrape the back of my hand? I fell on my palms!” Smalls just laughed at me, and I bandaged it up too.
All of a sudden, Smalls started laughing so hard that she was pretty much crying… I said, “What the heck is so funny?” She said, “I was just remembering… you looked so funny… your shoes were all over!” Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that I fell down so hard that both of my shoes fell off. How does that even happen?
So anyway… that’s my funny story for the week.
Laugh it up, clowns.

And I know it isn’t much, but they are my wounds. I got them, and they hurt. So now I’m gonna show them off. If you don’t want to see them, don’t look. :)

This is the back of my hand…

This is my knee, and…

This is my poor little toe.

Isn’t that awesome? Who does that? My only consolation is that we weren’t on our own street when it happened, so at least the neighbors shall remain ignorant (hopefully) of my complete geekdom.

But you shall not! Behold, my robot statistics:

Just so you know, Sevenis a Robot that has Hundreds of Tiny Wheels and Wooden Panelling, runs on Methane, is Here To Protect You, can Sidestep Attacks, and is Semi-Organic.Force: 4 Handling: 4 Weaponry: 0

To see if your Battle Robot can
defeat Just so you know, Seven, enter your name and choose an attack:

fights Just so you know, Seven using Force Handling Weaponry
Fight me if you dare.