My Own Worst Enemy

I have been very fortunate in that I was born with a talent for testing well.  Some people might translate that as being smart but...well, let me tell you a story.

I have one of this really big pill containers that has each day of the week labelled on it.  I'm sure you know what I mean.  While I do have one pill (a low dose of blood pressure medication) that I take every day, I have the enormous pill holder because I also try to remember to take a multi-vitamin, fish oil, glucosamine, and various other (hopefully) healthy supplements and those suckers tend to be pretty big.  Other than that one pill, I only ever take Tylenol and when I fly I take Ativan.

This week just happens to have been the week before spring break.  In case you've completely forgotten what the week before spring break is like, the students are almost completely useless.  This is unfortunate since it's also the midpoint of the semester and therefore this week tends to have lots of tests in it.  Anyway, students aren't the only ones who love their spring breaks.  We profs might not jet off to Daytona Beach for drunken revels but we do nevertheless value the week as a chance to travel or at least catch up on grading papers.  I mentioned to my officemate a few times this week how I was really looking forward to spring break because getting up at 5:30 (4:30 on Monday and Wednesday) was pretty tough this week.  Way more snooze button action than usual.  I didn't even go to the gym at all this week.  Clearly, I was in need of a little me time to reboot my system!

So Thursday night I ate dinner and went to bed nice and early in hopes of reading a little and getting a little extra sleep to fix this pre-break slump.  Huppy noticed as she was brushing her teeth that I had not taken any of the pill container contents on Thursday and possibly only the morning half for Wednesday.  Here's what happened:

Huppy (from bathroom):  Did you not take your blood pressure pill today?  Or yesterday?
Me (in bed reading with my eyes closed):  Ummm...no?  Yes?  I'm not sure.
Huppy:  I don't think you did.  Don't you think you should take today's pill?
Me:  (really comfortable in bed):  Well...probably.  Eh, I'll take it in the morning when I get up.
Huppy:  Uh huh.  How about if I bring it to you now?
Me:  Sure, thanks!
Huppy (walking from with pill and a glass of water):  Isn't your blood pressure pill pink?
Me:  Maybe?  It's the only tablet in the pill thingy, the rest are giant horse pill sized supplements.
Huppy (arriving with pill and water and about to hand them over):  I really think it's supposed to be pink.  This is white.
Me:  Huh.  Maybe they changed?
Huppy (not handing them over yet):  Are you SURE this is the right pill?
Me: Lemme see...ohhhh, wow.  Is that...?  Holy crow, have I been taking Ativan instead?!?
Huppy (heading back to the bathroom with pill in hand):  Good grief, Maia!  This IS Ativan.  Where the hell are the pink pills?
Me (laughing so hard I'm crying):  This explains SO MUCH about this week!
Huppy (very much not laughing):  This isn't funny!  If you are doing this kind of thing at age 40 what the hell are you going to do to yourself at 80?
Me (tring not to laugh):  You're right it's not funny...I should probably be a little worried about this situation but, you see, I'm on Ativan.

I found my blood pressure meds in the kitchen in a basket under the pile of supplement bottles.  My BP was still fine despite the fact that I hadn't taken them in almost a week.  I've since gotten back on track there.

Huppy took away the Ativan bottle with the two untaken pills inside.  Since I took most of the ones I had I now have to remember to get a refill before I go to Oregon in May.  I promise to hand that bottle over to Huppy as well.

So, yeah, clearly I am not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

Assault With Intent to Watch a Movie

I posted a status on Facebook the other day that went as follows:


I think that _if_ I ever end up in a physical altercation with another person (by no means a guarantee because that's not how I roll) but _IF_...it will take place in a movie theatre. This is my prediction.


Now, I think I am generally a person who is fairly easy-going.  Sure, there are things that I find annoying.  
Here are a few:


I get irked when I order pasta in a restaurant and it's over-cooked.  I mean really - a box of pasta costs 89 cents - the profit margin on a plate of it is huge.  Bearing that in mind, I think it's not unreasonable of me to expect it to be cooked properly.  


We have a self-checkout aisle at the grocery store.  We also have hand scanners that allow a shopper to be able to scan and bag their items as they shop.  Then, at the self-checkout aisle, one simply scans a bar code and a customer card and the entire order scrolls across the screen.  It's very convenient as there is no time at the register needed to scan items or bag them.  What drives me batty is when someone uses that lane to process an enormous order that has not been scanned and bagged.  Do they not understand that by doing that they're spending twice as long checking out?  In the "manned" lanes a person is bagging while the food is being rung up but these fools are scanning, then paying, then bagging.  All while I'm standing behind them with the ability to process $200 worth of groceries in 45 seconds.


Buying women's clothes.  Honestly, I think that's a whooooole other blog post.  


OK, so some things get under my skin but I usually just roll my eyes or fume a bit and that's it.  No confrontation, no taking it out on some poor schmo in customer service, and no snide comments.  Life is too short to get really worked up about this stuff.


Except.  


You know when people talk during a movie?  Yeah, that goes up my ass sideways.  I mean, really.  All of my non-confrontational habits go right out the window.  I exhibit both passive-agressive and active-aggressive traits.  I sigh, I stare, I glare, I say things like "Really?!?!", "For frick's sake!", and "This is NOT your living room!".  Sometimes these people are drunk, sometimes stupid, and sometimes a horrible combination of both.  If you're too dumb to watch a movie without needing to make comments to prove that you understand what's happening, stay at home.  The only reason I have not yet gotten into a full-on tussle is that often Huppy is at the movies with me and confrontation is her Kryptonite.  Each time I make any of my little protests she sucks in her breath, bugs her eyes out at me, and dies a little bit inside.  The problem is that this happens almost every time I see a movie.  Do people suck more lately or am I becoming the curmudgeon that I've always wanted to be? 


So yeah, this is clearly a hot button issue for me.  Be forewarned rude movie-goers:  when I finally lose it I'll lose it big time, I have a second degree blackbelt, and I outweigh 90% of my potential opponents.  Let's just all play it safe and shut.  the.  hell.  up.

Just Call Me Ms. Goodwrench

I was at Wal-Mart yesterday.  I feel that in the past I have been fairly critical of Wal-Mart for being such a miserable place to shop.  The lines were always 15 people deep, two-thrirds of the checkout lanes were inactive, the aisles were messy with nothing residing exactly where it was supposed to be, and it often smelled of humanity (liquid, solid, or gas depending on the day and aisle).  In the interest of fairness, I should say that my local Wal-Mart seems to have gone through an overhaul and the last few times I've been there it's been a much more efficient and less sketchy experience.  So, good job to you, North Attleboro Wal-mart.

As I left Wal-Mart and crossed the parking lot to my car I heard someone say "Excuse me!  Can you please help me?"  I looked around and saw a woman standing in front of a large pickup truck with its hood raised.  It seemed as though she was talking to me so I put my stuff in my car and walked over to her.  As I approached, I asked if her truck battery was dead.  She gave me an odd look and then told me that, no, her issue was that when she tried to remove the oil fill cap she came away with the entire oil fill tube instead.  After some discussion I concluded that when her son had last changed her oil, when he screwed the oil fill cap back onto the tube he misthreaded it and tightened it to the point where it was essentially frozen in place.  So, when she went to unscrew it to add some more oil the cap was so stuck that the twisting motion released the entire tube from the engine instead.  Fortunately, I had a flashlight app on my phone (yay technology!) and about 6 additional inches in height (yay genetics!) which allowed me to examine the area closely enough to figure out how the tube needed to be held in order to get it back onto the truck.  It didn't go on perfectly but it did go back on and it was tight enough to form a seal.  I told her I thought she'd be OK to get home but she should get someone to put everything to rights as soon as she could.  She thanked me several times and gave me a couple of handwipes as my hands were black with engine oil.  I told her it was no problem, wished her luck getting home, and left.

It wasn't until I was well away that it occurred to be that there is a good chance that the reason she asked me for help in the first place is that she thought I was a man.  I think that's why she gave me a funny look the first time I spoke to her to ask if her battery was dead.  I don't care one way or another about the mistaken gender identity there - it was getting dark and I have very short hair.  Actually, I guess I should be pleased that from a distance my middle aged lady hips weren't as obvious as I think they are.  What really pleased me, aside from the fact that I think I was actually able to help her, was that it never dawned on me that I wouldn't be a perfectly reasonable person to ask for help.  It was nice to know that I didn't automatically assume that some kind of testosterone-give knowledge was required.

This is a good thing since my efforts at playing the helpless female usually end in disappointment anyway.  A few years ago, a stray cat decided that my garage would be an excellent place to shuffle off its mortal coil.  Unfortunately, thanks to warm weather and a several day stretch in which I didn't need anything from the garage the cat's mortal coil had become quite a haven for disco rice.  Rather than deal with this, I went next door and told my neighbor Jeb about it.  I was hoping that if I seemed traumatized enough he would manfully go into my garage and take care of it.  Instead he got all queasy looking and suggested calling the city animal control office.  This turned out to be excellent advice because about a half an hour later a woman from Animal Control showed up and womanfully took care of it.  My heroine!

They Work Out

I have to admit that I have bought both singles by LMFAO that have been released thus far.  I watched the video for the first, "Party Rock Anthem" and then spent quite a bit of time researching YouTube for instructional videos on "how to shuffle".  My brain now completely understands what needs to be done in order to shuffle (and to dougie, thanks to my last dance-related research) but where the spirit is willing, the flesh remains awkward.

I had seen a few people on Facebook mention the video for the next single, "Sexy And I Know It" but it took a while to get around to watching it.  I'd like to discuss the video a bit, so please check it out if you have a moment.  Don't look at it if you're at work or church, though.

OK, so now you've seen that.

My first reaction was along the lines of "Yikes!" and "I wonder how much therapy costs." upon reflection, though, I realized that they aren't doing anything in this video that women have been doing in music videos since the dawn of MTV.  In addition, lots of people make a point to spend their Super Bowl half-time watching women (sort of) play football in their underwear.  How different is that from rival underwear gangs posturing at each other at the beach?  Aside from gender, it's pretty much the same thing.

So, I'd like to know what you think:  Do you think LMFAO is just trying to be silly and a little disturbing or are they spandex-clad geniuses making a prescient statement on how numb we've become when it comes to female almost-nudity in pop culture?

Peter Piper Picked a Peck of Pickled Peck-um, Peppers

One of the great things about teaching is that learning takes place on both sides of the (metaphorical) podium.

So.  Last week I was teaching my statistics class some probability, specifically binomial probability experiments.  Don't worry, I'm not going to explain that now.  What's important, though, is that talking about binomial probability experiments requires one to say the word "success" approximately a million times.  Make that two million because I have two sections of stats.

Here's what I learned:  It is impossible to say the word success a million times (or even twenty) without at some point butchering one's pronunciation.  Unfortunately, for me that means changing "suck-sess" into "suck-sex".  Yeah, so that happened.  A bunch of times.

Sadly, this is not my first foray into being accidentally lewd in the classroom.  When I taught math at a high school in Virginia there was a time when we were covering trigonometric problems.  The abbreviation for the secant function is "sec".  I was using the variable x to represent the angle which meant writing "sec x" on the board several times.  You can see where this is heading.  Yup, in front of a whole room of 17-year olds, I wrote the word sex on the blackboard.  I sent them further into hysterics by saying "Well, ya know, it is Friday."  What I meant was that it had been a long week and I was tired.  What they thought I meant was that Friday = Sexday.  Frickin' fricklebats.

Could Happen to Anyone

I'd like to present this conversation with as little explanation as possible and leave you to determine how it came about.

Me:  Erk!  (accompanied by a wide-eyed look of pain and surprise)

Huppy:  Did you just pinch the skin on your stomach in the hinge of your glasses.

Me:  I did.  It left a mark.

Come conclusions you may draw:  I am very, very flexible.  I have a specific unique facial expression for absolutely every situation.  One of these things is true and one is probably not true.

Situational Awareness Is For Suckers

So we're just coming off a nice three day weekend.  The weather was quite temperate and so a ton of house projects got done.  That's the good part.  The bad part is that in those three days I found three different ways to hit my head on something.  I'm pretty sure the first and the third time were on exactly the same spot.  How did I manage this?  Well, I started out with the locking mechanism from an open trunk lid on Saturday.  The next day I climbed the ladder into the attic and stood up right into a roof beam.  I wrapped up the holiday weekend by hitting my head on a shelf after plugging in some speakers below the shelf.  The lesson I'm taking from this is that it would be best if I just walked around all hunched over because floating just above me is a whole host of crap of stuff waiting to bash me in the noggin.  So, if I start acting weirder than usual I may be concussed.