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Friday, June 20, 2003
Ewwwwww, pt. 2 Did I mention any time recently that I hate working on medical books? (Oh, yeah, I did.) Well, I'm mentioning it again. I will allow the title of the following table to speak for itself: "Characteristics of Genital Ulcers." Just what I need at 4:49 on a Friday afternoon. Well, soon I can go home and have a stiff drink. [ at 4:58 PM • by Abby • permalink • ] To-do Note to self: I MUST wake up before noon tomorrow and make a student loan payment. MUST MUST MUST. I came perilously close to slipping back into default. The payment's due on the 22nd, which is Sunday; I was going to call them today. Except on Fridays they close at 4:30 and I called at 4:34. I remembered they were supposed to be open on Saturday, and did a panicked Web search till I found the Default (aka Loser) phone number and hours, which are indeed 8 a.m.–12 p.m. on Saturday. Thank you, God. I called J. to tell him to remind me, I'm going to write it on paper, I'm going to e-mail it to myself, and I'm posting this. And I just wrote it on my hand. I absolutely cannot afford to screw this up. Way too close a call. [ at 4:48 PM • by Abby • permalink • ] Blame Canada I realize I'm approximately the zillionth person to post this, but I can't resist (and if I post it, I can easily find it again): the SF Gate article on gay Canadians. If I were going to post my favorite part, I'd post the whole darn article, so I'll just pick one paragraph I particularly particularly like: In the state of Texas except for Austin which everyone knows is surprisingly cool despite how it's in, you know, Texas, where you still cannot legally buy a dildo or engage in homosexual sex but they pretty much hand you a nice big phallic shotgun as a welcome gift when you visit, the legislature immediately passed a law requiring each and every male to smack any other male they see really hard on the back and buy him a pitcher of bad beer in a manly gesture of football-lovin' patriotic homoerotically repressed solidarity.a) that's Texas, and b) that's straight men. Mark Morford is my new favorite person in the media. Well, except Jon Stewart, and I don't know if he really counts as being in the media. And Anthony Lane, but he's a critic, rather than a commentator. But anyway: Sarcastic guys skewering the big-budget big-business big-ego behemoth that is corporate, government, and Hollywood culture. I like 'em. [ at 2:57 PM • by Abby • permalink • ] Friday Five Well, I've been meaning to post about my hair, and here's my chance. 1. Is your hair naturally curly, wavy, or straight? Long or short? Naturally straight, but when I braid it, like I usually do, it turns wavy. It's very, very, very long; 31 inches from the crown of my head, a little past my waist, just at the stage where it gets in the way when I put my pants on. I haven't had a serious haircut since 1995; I just get an inch or two taken off every year, to remove the deadest of the dead ends. Oh, and it's dark brown; very boring dark brown. 2. How has your hair changed over your lifetime? Obviously, I didn't have much when I was born. It just grew for the first five years or so, then I got a "pixie cut," which I suppose looked cute. Then it grew out again, and got pretty long by the time I was in 6th grade. Then, mostly based on having a crush on Kitiara in the Dragonlance books, I decided it should be short and curly, so I got it cut and permed. Unfortunately, I wound up with the poodle look; it was a hairstyle much like my grandmother's, which is not what you want when you're 12. I let it start growing again. In 9th grade, when I was depressed, I dyed it black. In 11th grade, when I was edging towards manic, I dyed it red, and it stayed red for the next few years. In college, after I figured out I wasn't straight (somehow having a crush on a woman in 6th grade hadn't tipped me off), I got the dyke cut—short as a man's. It stayed that way till the beginning of my junior year, which was my last real haircut. And then it grew. And grew. And grew. Mostly, I just didn't like making phone calls, so I never called to get a salon appointment. And I didn't like having to pay $30 for it, either. So, as mentioned above, it's long now. 3. How do your normally wear your hair? In a ponytail during the day; braided at night. When it's hot, I twist it up on top of my head; I have to double it back a few times and secure it with two butterfly clips. Every now and then I wear it down, but it gets in the way too much, especially when there's even a breath of wind. (But it does make everyone look at me and say "Wow, your hair is long.") 4. If you could change your hair this minute, what would it look like? As long as it is now, but as smooth and glossy and mahagony-black as an Asian woman's can be. I have extreme Asian hair envy. Mine's too thick to lie smooth and stay put behind my shoulders if it's not restrained. 5. Ever had a hair disaster? What happened? Well, the whole poodle-cut thing was a several-year-long disaster. And I did once use overly red dye and have a Bozo-the-clown look, but I fixed that pretty quickly. And every now and then, if I don't use a cloth ponytail holder, it'll get stuck in my hair and I have to cut it out. I even got a hairbrush stuck in it once, but J. managed to untangle me. [ at 10:56 AM • by Abby • permalink • ] Ah, South Philly The contracter who worked on our house last year has been arrested for fencing $250,000 in stolen goods. Yikes. We're changing the locks, that's for sure... We were pretty sure there was something shady about him; for one thing, he only went by one name (Enzo, of all things), and his business card didn't have an address on it, and he wanted to be paid in cash. But I get the feeling he wouldn't steal from "the neighborhood"; that's, well, not how you do things in South Philly. And none of our stuff was missing after he worked for us. Still, I don't want him getting out of prison and deciding he liked the looks of our TV. Oh well; that's South Philly for ya... [ at 10:27 AM • by Abby • permalink • ] Well, fuck u 2 Dear person who sent me the e-mail entitled "fuck u, u porn freak": Just because I mention pornography (as in this entry) does not mean I like, or sanction, pornography. And when people come to my site searching for kiddie porn, I report them (via the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children's www.cybertipline.com, also accessible by the phone number 1-800-843-5678). So fuck u 2. Sincerely, Zhaba [ at 9:27 AM • by Abby • permalink • ] Thursday, June 19, 2003 Ewwwwwwwwwww! Pardon me for shouting, but: I HATE WORKING ON MEDICAL BOOKS! I have learned, for instance, how to tell the difference between common scabies and Norwegian scabies by the number of mites and the locations and appearance of infestation, and how to determine the cause of leg ulcers based on, among other things, the exudate, granulation tissue, and type of infection. YUCK YUCK YUCK YUCK YUCK! I just had to take a break when I looked at the next table: how to identify and treat three different kinds of chronic wounds, depending on whether they're dry, moist, or "heavily exudative." And what, exactly, to do with necrotic tissue. Oy Bozhe. I wish I hadn't had lunch. Thank God there aren't pictures. (I really hate the medical books with pictures. When the editors of a medical book are looking to illustrate, say, cystic acne, they don't use a picture of mild cystic acne, or moderate cystic acne, or even severe cystic acne. They use the worst case of cystic acne that's ever been in front of a camera. And I'm not even going to get started on the pictures of, um, private problem places. I could so, so not be a doctor.) (But the medical books beat the forensic books. I outright refuse to work on them; I'm pretty sure I'd faint. Or throw up. Or both.) You know, I think it's time for a walk around the block. Fresh air. Lots of it. Please. [ at 1:29 PM • by Abby • permalink • ] Summer colds J. has officially acquired a cold, and I'm starting to get it; my throat's scratchy and my nose is starting to itch. Feh. Colds ought to stay a winter disease; whenever I get them, I want to have hot tea, and hot water with lemon juice and honey, and hot soup, and curl up under a heap of blankets. And you just can't do that when it's over 80 degrees. (Well, you can, but you won't be comfortable.) J.'s staying home today. I hope he gets better soon. When I get sick, I stay sick. I have an untreatable anemia—the blood can't absorb iron, so iron supplements won't help—and it makes it much harder for me to fight off diseases. If everyone else is sick for a week, I'm sick for two weeks. Or more. I usually acquire a cough in January and keep coughing till April. It sucks. Oh well. I'll go to a Chinese restaurant for lunch today, and order hot-and-sour soup; it's a sure sinus-clearer. And when I get home, I'll make some hot spiked lemonade: One tablespoon each of honey, sugar, lemon juice, and rum in a mug of hot water. The steam relieves congestion, the honey soothes, the lemon juice dries membranes and adds vitamin C, and the rum just makes you feel good. It's not medicine, but it's a remedy, and sometimes that's almost as good. [ at 9:45 AM • by Abby • permalink • ] Crime and, hopefully, punishment Good news on the criminal apprehension front: bounty hunters captured the fugitive Max Factor heir/rapist. (My favorite part of the story, other than the scumbag being caught, is that the bounty hunter is named Duane "Dog" Chapman.) All I have to say is: Have fun in prison, pretty boy. [ at 9:34 AM • by Abby • permalink • ] Wednesday, June 18, 2003 Traffic tie-up of the day In Birmingham, UK: a truck carrying sex toys spills its contents all over the highway. (They also burst into flame. Yes, you want to avoid those flaming blow-up dolls.) The best cargo spill we had in Delaware was 30,000 live chickens. People spent the rest of the day chasing them off of roads and out of backyards and driveways. [ at 1:21 PM • by Abby • permalink • ] Ra Ra Ra! Dear Weather Gods: More days like this, please. Sincerely, Zhaba P.S. Sun god, sun god, Ra Ra Ra! [ at 12:05 PM • by Abby • permalink • ] Worms I did my good deed for the day: I rescued two earthworms from a parking lot. I have an inordinate fondness for earthworms; whenever I see them stranded in puddles or on pavement, I'll rescue them; I'll even go considerably out of my way to do so. I suppose it's odd that I'm afraid of and/or loathe most insects, but like earthworms. It's probably because my parents and grandparents all had gardens, and taught me how beneficial earthworms are, and sometimes set me to gathering earthworms to put in the gardens. I even kind of like the way they feel in my hand; for some reason I don't mind the sliminess and squirminess. They feel very alive, the way mice do when you hold them. They're probably one of the few completely beneficial and harmless creatures on the planet, and that's something to feel good about. [ at 11:49 AM • by Abby • permalink • ] Tuesday, June 17, 2003 Strong bad coffee I like coffee as much as the next caffeine addict, but the office coffeemaker has been acting really evil recently. For some reason it's producing more steam than hot water, so the coffee is almost undrinkably strong, and nearly opaque. It looks like the waters of the Ganges. Which is not a good thing. [ at 1:25 PM • by Abby • permalink • ] Sock it to me Almost nothing to report today. I would, however, like it to be known that last night I spent over $50 on socks. Not just any socks, mind you; the World's Softest Socks, 12 pairs of 'em. Ever since I discovered them they've been the only socks I wear, and the ones I got two years ago are nearing the end of their useful lives. When I find an article of clothing that I like that fits well, I buy it in bulk, in various colors; it makes shopping, and dressing, much easier. I know, this is a really boring post. But that's about the most exciting thing that's happened since I played Curve Ball last night. [ at 12:17 PM • by Abby • permalink • ] Monday, June 16, 2003 Addictive game A completely addictive Flash game that's basically 3-D Pong: Curve Ball. My high score's 15450 (so far). Must...not...play...all...night.... 9:38: Level 6, 16350. 9:43: Level 6, 18255 9:47: Level 7, 21070 must...not...play...all...night...no...really.... [ at 9:20 PM • by Abby • permalink • ] Survival My score on Sergeant Safari's Wilderness Survival Quiz: Congratulations, you passed with a score of 85%. Just brush up on what you missed and you'd make an excellent survivor.I guess that wilderness survival kick I went on in junior high could still prove useful. Especially if I bring along some Xanax. (Via anything but ordinary.) [ at 3:49 PM • by Abby • permalink • ] Hell is other people and their stereo systems Last night, for some reason, a batch of people down the street decided to have a party. I hesitate to call it a block party, because most of the block didn't seem to know about it; but the people having the party did close the street for it (by parking their car across the entrance to the street). And then there was the music. Loud, loud, loud music. So loud it hurt my ears while I was in my house behind closed doors on the other end of the block. Ear plugs didn't help, playing our own music didn't help, retreating to the farthest room didn't help. I was tempted to sit on the front steps and practice the French horn for the first time in eight years, but I figured I'd probably get in trouble for disturbing the peace. I couldn't find any information on noise ordinances; there's gotta be some law against having hideously loud music outside after 11 p.m. on the eve of a weekday, doesn't there? (I'm going to e-mail my brother, a Philly cop, about it.) At 11:30, when I was on the Philadelphia Police Department Web site trying to figure out who to call to report them, they finally turned off the music and went inside. And we went to bed at last. I'd wish a pox on them, but since there actually is a pox going around, that's probably not politically correct. So I'll just wish a lightning strike on their stereo system. [ at 12:08 PM • by Abby • permalink • ] Biblical studies in the news On Saturday, there was an article in the New York Times about Elaine Pagels, a biblical scholar whose work I'm familiar with through working for the Biblical Archaeology Society. I have to quote the following paragraph: From early on, Ms. Pagels wanted to be a dancer. She studied briefly with the Martha Graham Company in New York but realized, she said, that "I was not going to be fabulous." So she enrolled as a Ph.D. student in the religion department at Harvard and learned Coptic.Indeed. If I dropped out of an internationally renowned dance company, I don't see that I'd have any choice but to enroll in a Ph.D. program at one of the nation's top universities and learn Coptic. It's a natural progression. If you happen to be insanely intelligent and talented. Oh well... (I actually took a year of hieroglyphic Egyptian at Yale; I don't remember much of it, but I can read the average funerary inscription.) [ at 11:31 AM • by Abby • permalink • ] |
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