A Post So Boring I Can't Come Up With A Name For It

I get paid for being bored.  That sounds like a good gig, I know, but by the end of the week, I'm tempted to go postal.  And, by going postal, I mean I'm ready to apply for a job with the U.S. Postal Service.  Which, what with people there tending to actually go postal, is probably not a good idea.

 

You see?  The last paragraph reflects the glob of gelatinous goo my brain is reduced to by Friday.  I have trouble concentrating.  None of the books I'm reading hold my attention.  Bingo Bash no longer provides endless hours of enjoyment. And I keep waiting for Morgan Freeman to come in and feed me pumpkin pie.  Sadly, this has never happened.   I love pie.

 

Also, the *little* things the attorneys here do to bother me by Friday become *BIG* things.  Therefore, not only do I walk around muttering Shakespeare (First, kill all the lawyers), but I also develop a deeper appreciation of Lorena Bobbit.  So, I guess there is a plus side.

 

But, the indomitable human spirit pushes through, and by Monday my love of a roof over my head and beer will cheerfully convince me to sally forth to the Desk of Dulllsville once again.  Though I may just take a Mental Health Day next Friday...

Absolute Truths

That's a great novel by Susan Howatch.  Anyroad....

 

You all know I'm a fan of lists. Well, you do now.  And I have a list of Absolute Truths.  They have changed over the years, and may well change again, but below are some that are currently on my hit parade.

 

DISCLAIMER PARAGRAPH:  These are Debbie's Truths.  You have your own.  You may agree with some, but it's more likely you won't.  You may think some are incredibly dumb.  You're welcome. (And probably right.)  It's Friday.  Enjoy.

 

1.  Not giving a shit is harder than it should be. Sometimes.  Sometimes the reverse is

     true.

2.  I think best when pacing.

3.  I therefore look weird a lot.

4.  Having fun is awesome.

5.  Being sick is the pits.

6.  It's all very well to say, "You make your own happiness.", but I must have copied the

     recipe for happiness down wrong, because it never comes out right. 

7.  I'm not a very good cook.  I don't care.

8.  I'm a helluva lot of fun to be around. And, by invoking the transitory theory by

     employing #4, I am, therefore, awesome.

9.  Cats are awesome, as well.  And sometimes fun to be around.

10. The first sip of coffee in the morning and the first sip of beer post show are two of

      the most perfect moments on earth.

 

I could go on, but you are probably scrolling down your FB page by now anyway, so I'll stop.  I have written nothing earthshattering here, but lately the things that have shattered my earth haven't been very happy, so I'm okay with being Cheerfully Mundane. 

 

And that makes #11. 

 

 

 

 



What's In a Name? (Letters, mostly)

Okay, I'm going to start this entry with a disclaimer:  I may have very well blogged about this subject before, thereby repeating myself.  However, I am a victim of Extreme Laziness, and don't feel like researching it, plus, also, if I can't remember, I'm betting that the three of you who read this can't remember either (birds of a feather, etc., etc.) so I'm soldiering on.

I have a thing about names.  I love them.  Much in the same way I love kittens and hugs/kisses, and beer.  I get all giggly and warm and fuzzy inside when I hear a name I like.  For instance, my favorite current cat name is Tallulah Fuzzypants.  See???  And we just got a package from a law firm whose name is Tuggle Duggins.  Adorable, right?  You cannot say those names without smiling.  Really, you can't. Something horribly vile will happen to you instantaneously if you try.  So don't.  You've been warned.

One of my all-time favorite names is a High Society, Ultra-Snooty, Dripping With Money, Pittsburgh (Imagine if Mt. Brook and Greystone had a baby, dipped it in gold, and covered it with diamonds) marriage from the 70's, when Tracy Titsworth married Sterling Pankratz.  Those rich muthas deserved those laughable names!

Now, Debbie, you chide, they can't help what names they have, it's not nice to make fun of them.  Debbie to Chider, Fuck Off.

My love for quirky names probably stems from the fact that my name is so boring I yawn every time  I say it.  Debbie...*yawn*...Smith.  And before I was a Smith, I was a ...*yawn*...Brown.  It sometimes makes me regret breaking off that engagement to Pepe Poopacarcheck. 

One of the ironies (others, I assume, covered in my possibly existing previous post) of my Name Love is that names themselves (adorable or otherwise) are my Achilles Heel (I orginally typed "hell", which would have worked, too) when it comes to learning lines. (Okay, there were waayy too many paranthetical phrases in that last sentence.  But I like them, so they're staying.  Oooo...I'm feisty today!)  In the last play I did, I had to remember 4,397 Jewish surnames.  Oy Vay!  And in the play I'm working on now, the names are in French.  18th Fucking Century French.  Quelle Merde!

Well, that is the yin and yang that is life.  And struggling over a Markowitz-Waldbaum or Merteuil is well worth the joy of uttering the best attorney name ever, Bob Lablaw.  (Courtesy Arrested Development) So let's hear 'em, guys and gals.  What are some of your favorite funny names?  I'm listening....



Hate,hate, hate, loathe, despise, and hate

That's a line from Star Spangled Girl.  Anyway....

I have always had a thing about not hating people.  I hate lots of stuff; math, car trouble, bigotry, halibut, dentistry (as opposed to dentists).  But I don't believe in hating people.

There have been people in my life I haven't cared for, obviously.  And there are a very few people I feel have mistreated me or someone I loved.  And while I had moments of intense anger at these people and I still feel their behavior was horrible, I don't hate them.  You can't change the past.  But you don't have to live there, either.  (Until I get senile.  Then I'm going to live in 1963.  That was a good year.)

The few times I let myself get sucked into hating people, all it did was make me hate myself for wasting time on an emotion that was useless and draining.  Did my hatred change the person's behavior?  No.  Did my hatred make the pain go away?  No.  Did the hatred make me ask myself rhetorical questions and answer them?  Sadly, yes.  Lose, lose, lose.

I believe in love.  Admittedly, I was embarrassed to write that über hokey sentence.  (And did my iPad just  put an umlaut over the u??  Awesome!). But I think there needs to be three different words for love.  One is the love you (and by you, I mean me) feel for ice cream and fireworks and theatre and long weekends.  Another is the love you feel for the people/animals in your life that make you happy.  And then there should be a Third Love.  And this is what we should all have for Everyone, just because it's the right thing to do, and things would go a whole lot smoother if Everyone did that.  Chunky is okay for peanut butter, but smooth is preferable for life.

I don't have a Humorous Tagline for this one, sorry.  And I know this is a far from original idea.  But I'm more than naive enough to think if it's said often enough, it just may happen.
   

Tech Talk

I do not claim to know anything about technology.  The fact that I am able to stumblebumble my way through wonders such as blogs,  Facebook and toaster ovens without (usually) disastrous results is nothing short of a miracle.  This last weekend, my kids tried to convince me that I should be on Twitter.  I do have a Twitter account, but I never use it because I don't get it.  If I feel the urge to write down (supposedly) humorous thoughts, I don't want to have to worry about counting how many letters I can use.  After all, this is Amurica, and Publication Without Calculation was one of our Founding Fathers' credos. 

I also don't  understand the rules.  I just went to pull up blogspot.com through Google on my work computer and I got the ol' Skull and Crossbones; this site blocked by your organization because it is Vilely Evil and will Bring Down Society As We Know It and Why The Fuck Aren't You Working?  So I went to pull it up via MSN  (on the very same computer) and it pops up, pretty as a picture, also rosy cheeked and big smiles, begging me to express my opinions for all the world (if the world population is 23) to read.  Go know.

I am not really  interested in learning the particulars of technocrap, anymore than I was ever interested in learning how a car works or why everything that is fun to do or tastes good is always bad for you.  It just is. I accept that.  And I work around all these things to the best of my ability (Last Rated at C-).  I have killed three computers, two microwaves, countless cars and a guinea pig (none on purpose), and I still manage to keep from drowning in the 21st Century Ocean.  So far. 

But don't place any bets on me ever owning a hovercraft. 

Different Strokes

I (sometimes) try very hard to see things from others' points of view. (That sentence doesn't sound right, but you know what I mean.)  Like the whole racist/homophobic concept. I guess those things don't necessarily go hand-in-hand, but I was trying to save space, and those happen to be my Two Top Buggaboos.  So, I asked myself, "Hey, Gump, what prejudices do you have?"  And, (not counting my prejudice against racists and homophobes, cause, damnit, they started it), I realized that I am prejudiced against people who are religious.

Not that I really care if people go to church, that's their beeswax, but I had to admit to myself that if I find out someone I like is a regular church-goer, it alters my perception of them.  Just a smudge, but it does.  So, I assume that's like finding out your friend is black and/or gay, if you are R and/or H (I shortened racist and homophobic without telling you, but I figured if you got past my wonky first sentence you could certainly go with a spontaneous abbreviation.).  Also, if you have to be told your friend is black, you should probably get a cane.

BUT (and to paraphrase PeeWee Herman, everyone has a big but, I'm going to tell you about mine), I'm still friends with those churchgoing folk and I don't judge them for it and I tuck my feelings away in my Private Mind Vault (man, I got some good shit in there!) and I don't advertise my prejudice to The Universe. (Okay, I kinda am now, cause I'm blogging about it, but, as far as I know, The Universe doesn't read my blog.  So, shut up.)

Because that's what you do.  I doubt if I  or anyone else can change anyone's mind about hating gays or minorities. That makes me feel sad, but I'm not going to waste cancer cells worrying about it. I just wish they'd keep their opinions to themselves and quit polluting my world with their schlock.  If the Westboro Baptist Church wants to sit around for an hour every Sunday morning bashing Their Chosen Group of the Week, they can have at it. But they should keep those ideas within their own sacred walls, not throw them in people's faces in public.

Everyone has prejudices, but you learn to deal with them in a private fashion, much like dealing with your "intimate" feelings. (wink, wink)  Spouting your prejudicial ideas for the media is just public verbal masturbation, which is kinda creepy, not to mention inappropriate, and the inspiration for the title of this blog. 

So, stop. 

A Bunch of Unrelated Musings

Hello Reader 1 and Reader 2!  It's been a hot minute, as I haven't felt very bloggish in a while.  But boredom has overpowered me, and I feel compelled to, once again, tickle the plastics and spew forth more useless, extremely random, but hopefully mildly entertaining crapola.

I think the term "United States Government" is obsolete.  Nobody seems to do any governing anymore--so the name is misleading.  I think we should name it "United States Nannynannybooboo Stickyourhandindoodoo", because it seems more appropriate. 

I really like the sensation of writing with a newly sharpened pencil.  Usually because it signifies the start of rehearsal for a new show and I love that New Show Smell.

I am absolutely addicted to pictures of adorable kittens.  I believe this is one of the Warning Signs of Senility.  But it's way cuter than the peeing your pants all the time one.

I am slowly getting used to the dickheads at work who walk behind me and then comment on whatever they see on my iPad.  It's still annoying and creepy but I don't have the urge to strangle them like I used to.  Baby steps.

I am in a phase where I am realizing some things about myself that are overwhelming me.  I apologize for the Vaguebookiness of that statement, but I don't know that I can communicate the feelings I've been going through.  The cool thing is that they are AWESOME feelings, and that doesn't happen to me very often, so it is Definitely A Good Thing.  But I'm still in the early stages of this and, since I am the Queen of Denial (and have the asp to prove it ha! ha!), it will be a while before you'll be hearing anymore about this phenomenon.  You're welcome.

Or then, I could just be actually going senile.   Look, a kitten!!  Awwwww.....

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