Day 12: Alien Abduction

Eerie music plays

I'm about to tell you a tale. A tale of intrigue, and one that ends well. A tale that will have you searching the skies and wishing for an escape. Yes, this is a tale of an alien abduction; one which did not involve anal probing or artificial insemination (thank the Lord!). No, this was an abduction unlike any other, and one which I will always remember.

End eerie music

A silver ship pulled up, silent as a motor home, and the occupants exited. Both the aliens were of similar heights and both had body tattoos showing their accomplishments and planets conquered. One had red in its hair, signifying its fiery disposition and reflected in its eyes. Similar to Black Bolt (the Marvel Inhuman), this alien had the uncanny ability of being heard...whatever the circumstances. This alien's name was G. The other alien had a metallic stud on its face which could transform into a weapon, if needed. If removed, the remaining hole could also spurt out acid into the face of an unsuspecting enemy. This alien also had six pairs of eyes: one for protection against the harmful rays of the sun, one for night vision, and one for normal, everyday situations. This alien was called E. Both were from the planet Smalsp.

As I was shoved into the plush grey interior of the shuttle (complete with pillow and jacket!), I wondered if this would be the last time I saw Earth. The serpentine of G and the ensuing windburn on my face made me soon forget such simple things. We first landed at planet Shiattza where G and E decided to get some food. I'm sorry to say that they slaughtered, skinned, and cooked some strange beings (throwing in olives with the meat) which created a facsimile sandwich. I was offered sustenance but politely refused.

We proceeded on a 2.5 hour trip to someplace called Vigizazz Dinza. Along the way we encountered another being flying toward Vigizazz Dinza. E became annoyed at the pestering of the other alien and shot acid at it through its metallic stud. As I watched the other alien's face melt off like cheese from a pizza, I decided that it would be best not to anger E.

We arrived at Vigizazz Dinza and I was quite pleased; it felt homey! We dined. My meal had a lot of creamy sauce on it. E removed one pair of her eyes and ate her brown-colored meal. G expressed distaste for the brown sauce and nearly destroyed the server when the tube that is used for eating needed maintenance. I tried to mix a creamy drink with brown chunks for E but E refused and I could tell it wanted to spray acid at me for offering. Before leaving, E shot all three of us with some sort of sensor. I'm still scratching my head about that one.

The ship was refueled on the way back (to my surprise they were taking me back to Earth). On the return they subjected me to their planet's music which sounds a lot like hoarse screaming. There was a lot of communication going on between E/G and some other aliens back at Smalsp. E explained to me that purple nipples (reader, they have FIVE NIPPLES all together!) were considered beautiful on their planet. I hardly believed this and told them that perhaps they had a fungus and should get that checked out by a doctor before their nipples fall off! They merely laughed and told me that at least they have nipples, unlike the green, shape-changing Skrulls!

I arrived safely back on Earth, and thanked them for the journey. I learned a lot about the culture of their kind and would not take back the experience! So thank-you E and G, I hope that you abduct me again, soon!

Unprobbed anuses unite!
~S

Rant #1: "Bitchy little girls"

Ah, yes, ranting! I do believe that this is the very reason why I decided to start a blog (besides being creative and making people laugh, that is).

So what sparks today's rant, you say? Well, let me tell you! There are few things and/or people that I dislike to a rather high degree. One of those types of people are whiners! Yes, whiners; like "do you want cheese with that whine?" or "whoawhoawhoa, waitaminute, let me get out my tinny fiddle!" It seems that wherever I go, whiners abound. I go overseas: whiners. I go to Maine: whiners. I go to school: whiners. Seriously though, I think the only place I am truly safe is when I sleep, because my dreams do NOT contain whiners! So here's the story:

Once upon a time there was a pre-med student named Gigantor! While you may already have some pre-conceived notions about a pre-med student, I will tell you right now that you are incorrect; Gigantor is not like other pre-med students--I will just leave it at that. Well, Gigantor happens to have a stoplight party on Saturday. On Friday, he discovers that he has rounds on Sunday at 7am! STOP THE WORLD!!! Gigantor moans thus as to compare him to Linton Earnshaw from Wuthering Heights when he's sickly and on the verge of death for several months. At this point, I gaze out the window, wishing for the Rapture to happen at that moment so I would be spared...spared being Catherine Linton and having to listen to the moans. Were I to have said something, it would have sounded like this:

Dear Gigantor,

Suck it up (or grow a pair, whichever seemed befitting the moment)! You signed up to be a doctor! The hospital/God/and dead/dying/injured/suffering people do not care that you are having a stoplight party! Get over yourself. Doctors need to be selfless not selfish! I, myself, went to the midnight premiere of Twilight and had to go to work the following morning at around 6am or 7am. I did not complain as you are now. Please, cause me to suffer no more! Pray do!

Sincerely,
S

Harsh? Well, I'm sure it is. But, I have been putting up with whiny people for far too long! Do they not realize that there are people suffering more than they? People who, indeed, do NOT whine? For example, on several occasions in a foreign country, people would complain about their feet hurting. Why yes, we had been walking for a long time, but I was not complaining, and the bones of my large toes are crooked, causing immense pain after walking great distances. I dare say people would complain if they had everything they could ever want. How sad!

Greatly distressed,
~S

Day 11: "My Baby Hurt His Toe"

Ah, yes, once again my head created a little play for you all to enjoy. This play is based on true events (doesn't that phrase always make people practically claw their way to the box office?)! The events in this play took place over a 3 hour period, but I will condense it down to 5 minutes. I call this masterpiece:

My Baby Hurt His Toe

Characters: Blanche--a 30 something supervisor with an emotional hangover from her days as a 16 year old. Her inability to act the role of a supervisor tends to make the main character, S, care less about the things she does at work.

S--an apathetic 20 year old who sometimes feels like she's alone in the office (maybe because she usually is). S dreams of working with people who actually care about their job, get to work on time, and limit their personal calls. Paradoxically, S has begun making personal calls in order to catch up with Blanche; she is down 5 to ∞!

ADD--Need I say more? This teeny-bopper is the apple of his mother Blanche's eye. Looks are sometimes deceiving...

Slingblade--Do you recall a little movie by the name of Slingblade starring Billy Bob Thorton? Let's just say S can understand Billy Bob's character more than she can understand Slingblade. There also is an occasional flirtation between Slingblade and Blanche, though both are married.

Barney--The assistant manager and one whom you do not want on your bad side. Barney has an aversion towards nicknames.

Andy--The Man.

Setting: A 1990s style office with little to no room for two people to work together. The terrazzo on the floor is stained with mud due to the storm and a cool breeze finds its way through the office (due to cross ventilation caused by opening doors on opposite ends of the building). There is a small bathroom that could be a Motel 6, if their slogan was "We'll leave the light on for you...and the toilet seat up). Two smaller offices (with doors) lie across from the main threshold. There is a strange smell that pervades the office, and it would appear that the stench of Mrs. President lingers still. The weather is dark and cloudy; the Heavens occasionally open up with a downpour then zipper back up. Besides the rolling of the office chair on the terrazzo, silence pervades the office...

8:30 am
Blanche: Oh my God...Oh my God...Oh my God (from here on out typed as OMG, but Blanche continues her full deliverance)
Pause OMG...OMGOMGOMG
S: Looks perplexedly toward's Blanche's office and wonders if she should give Blanche a Vicotin...or if she herself should take one
B: OMG....OMG....OMG OMG OMG Ok...yea...I will. Bye...love you...bye.
To S: ADD fell off his bike___
S: A motorcycle?
B: No, a bicycle. I won't allow him to ride a motorcycle!
S thinks this may be for the best. ADD would most likely see a rabbit cross the road, leap off the motorcycle and chase after it.
B: He hurt his toe and now they have to REMOVE HIS TOENAIL!!!!
At this point, S studies Blanche and wonders if she is going to cry.
Blanche, to her credit, does not cry. For the next hour, Blanche tries to get in touch with her ex-husband in order to get ADD's insurance. She also tries her "wife-in-law's" (Blanche's terminology) number, but she has the incorrect number.
S: I'm a little concerned that you have your ex-husband's new wife's cell phone number!
B: Why? S sees no point in further conversing about this.

9:45am
By now Barney and Andy know about "the toe" (bum bum buuuuuuum). Blanche is on the phone, once again with her present husband.
B: Uh, huh...S does not actually pay attention to the conversation and works. Only when her name is called does she react. S? It's really bad isn't it?
S: Not really. I mean, all they do is shoot some syringes in the big toe to numb it and rip out the nail!
B: gags

10:00am
Moments later, Barney and Andy are out of the office. Blanche is walking around nervously and appears a loosed animal from the zoo, wondering what to do next.
B: Frantically ADD's hurt and in another state, I can't reach his father for his insurance card (the man won't give it to me because he'll think I'll do something with it), and I DON'T HAVE ANY CIGARETTES!"
S: Feigns shock and sympathy. In a voice resembling that of Daria: Oh, no.
Enter Slingblade. Slingblade hands Blanche an odd Styrofoam container which S later finds out contains a sandwich. At times, S watches Blanche chomp down on the sandwich like a masticating gorilla while she talks on the phone.
B: Oh God___Blanche, in a speech that audibly sounds like verbal diarrhea, spills out everything that has transpired in the last hour and a half in 2.5 seconds.
Slingblade: Wull yule jus goen home i’in ya needta.
S perceives this to mean "Well you just go on home if you need to."
A few minutes later, Blanche walks out of the office and S finds herself alone...yet again. S realistically deduces that Blanche went to find some cigarettes. S fantasizes that Blanche is like a squirrel, hiding cigarettes throughout the office's property.

10:15am
Blanche has returned to the office and is in close proximity to S.
B: Finds the need to whisper even though both Barney and Andy are out of the office Do you know what Barney said to me?
S: Clearly uninterested Hmm
B: He said, "So I hear ADD's getting his big toe remove." Now, the big toe? The part of the foot you NEED to be able to walk correc___
S: Actually, I think that's the pinky toe.
B: Disregards comment Can you imagine? He's getting his nail removed, but if it was his toe...Starts choking up. Tears are visible in her eyes. Why would he ask that? To think that his toe could be cut off and he would not be able to walk correctly for the rest of his life.
S: Wonders how she is the voice of sanity in this office. She also begins rating the emotional stability of Blanche on a scale from 1 to 10. The detector in her head beats rapidly and she cannot get a clear reading. Well, luckily it's just his nail and not his toe. He'll be ok.
B: Yea, but can you believe he asked me that?
S: Shrugs

For the remainder of the day things surrounding the toe begin to die down. There are calls made to and taken from pediatricians, faxes sent, sandwiches chewed, et al. As the hectic events of the past couple hours dawn on S, she really begins to contemplate how this Skittle-sized event was turned into one the size of planet Jupiter. S, who has ran into mailboxes and poles while playing baseball, hit in the head with a hockey puck, hit in the nose by a basketball and lacrosse ball, and fallen off of her bike repeatedly (not to mention has actually ridden a motorcycle AND has had pieces of her toenails removed), concludes her thoughts with this: ADD is a wimp!

End Scene

I hope that you all enjoyed this 5 minute play. Please leave any and all comments for the director and writer!

~S

Day 10: Ode to a Douche Bag

This ode is dedicated to all people with an XY chromosome pair who call other people "douches" or use it as a verb like "I was douched" and don't really understand what a douche bag is. This ode is more specifically dedicated to a guy I'd like to call Latent Homosexual, hither forth known as LH.

"Ode to a Douche Bag" (in 414 words)

O Douche Bag, how do you feel, being created for such a single horrendous purpose? Do you become frightful when heading into a dark, dank cavern? Certainly it does not compare to the Blue Grotto in Capri, Italy! There is no cerulean luminance to fit your fancy, no body of water to reflect the light from the outside and bounce it off rocks. An uncomfortable dampness attaches itself to you, Douche Bag, and you are unable to run away from it. How sad!

Does it alarm you to be confused for a catheter or a woopie-cushion? Have you lost all self-respect? Surely the fact that you come in a small assortment of colors (ROYGBV) must give you satisfaction. Be proud, also, that you have evolved from a simple squeeze bottle with a nozzle to a full-fledged bag with a tube! With your growth and adaptation comes also an increased paranoia and nervousness from the user. Oh, but that damn tube! Why, Douche Bag, can you not perform the maintenance on your own? I dare say that your ancestor helped me clean my ears and nose when I was young and sick. Sometimes I mourn the times when you were known for cleaning more crevices than just the one. However, there are people everywhere who applaud your ability at removing rank odors, and there are some of us who wish you were used more often. Indeed, if only Mrs. President could expect a visit from you soon!

Finally, Douche Bag, I am sorry for the culture these days. Douche bag has been converted to douchebag and made to imply a variety of negative qualities, specifically arrogance and as one engaging in obnoxious and/or irritating actions without malicious intent. Why just the other day I heard someone refer to the actor Shia LeBeouf as Shia LeDouche! What a transgression against your very nature! When someone gets splashed by a passing car, they exclaim that they were "douched!" I cannot comment on today's society Douche Bag, but I will treat your name with honor! The horror that your name brings to my mind will only be used on the worst of individuals! I have not met you on a personal basis, Herr Douche, nor do I want to, but keep on keeping on! You do the world a bit of good I think, especially when it comes to cleaning up our streets and keeping the world a less than smelly place.

Squeeze on Douche Bag, squeeze on!

~S

Day 9: Craziness in music

WOWZA! I pretty much fell more in love with Imogen Heap when I first saw this a couple years ago. Musicians deserve a great amount of respect, especially when they are able to turn nothing into multiple somethings. I don't know what I would do if I could not sing.

Your voice can be a powerful thing!
~S

Day 8: Does sauciness burn?

Out of the two covers shown above, I ask you, which one is a romance novel? The correct answer is: both of them?! WHAT??? I know, right? The one on the right looks quite innocent, and in reality is probably "warm" on a heat scale (I may or may not know this from first hand experience) and the one on the right looks down right HOT; like "ow, I burned my hand just picking up the book" hot, or "someone get a fire extinguisher, I believe my who-ha is ablaze" hot (but I swear upon all that is good and holy that I do NOT know this from first hand experience...though I know some people who do). What is this heat scale, you may ask. Well, let me tell you. A heat scale for RNs (romance novels) is as follows (I cite http://www.lib.byu.edu/sites/sampler/romance-rating-list/ for my definitions, but the book titles are my own):

Kisses: Nothing more than kisses. My made-up example: "My Pretty Pony Finds a Date"
Subtle: No explicit sensuality. Kissing, perhaps touching, but physical romance is described in general terms. The emphasis is on how lovemaking made the characters feel emotionally, and not on graphic depiction. If lovemaking occurs, it is alluded to rather than described, so that the reader’s imagination becomes paramount. My made-up example: "Mr. Magoo and His Accidental Gropes"
Warm: Moderately explicit sensuality. While our lovers do make love, and the reader is there with them, physical details are described, but are not graphically depicted. Much is left to the reader’s imagination. Emotions and feelings are most important. While there is sexual tension, there may not be more than one or two love scenes in the whole book. My made-up example: "What Happened AFTER the Magic Carpet Ride in Aladdin"
Hot: Very explicit sensuality. There is an expanded focus throughout the book on sexual feelings and desires. The love scenes are longer, and there are at least 2 or 3 of them. The characters often think about their sexual feelings and desires, and making love is graphically depicted. Both the emotions of the hero and heroine and the physical feelings of both are important during love scenes. My made-up example: "The Ignorant Tourist and the Ever-Watchful Orangutan"
Burning: Extremely explicit sensuality. Sexual feelings and desires are strongly focused on and some books in this category have sex as the primary focus. The details are thoroughly graphic, and may include what some readers might consider kinky. My made up example: "Those Ashes on the Floor Used to be My Loins."

Now, you may want to change this scale around and perhaps rate them on a scale of "Sauciness." As Glinda will tell you, this is quite possible. At this juncture in my blog, I would like to create my own version of the "Sauciness Scale:"

S: It can't even spell Saucy.
Sauce: It's more of a noun, rather than an adjective. Like "goat."
Saucy: Yeaaaa, getting into the good stuff.
Texas Pete Hot Sauce: One may need to consume water/milk while reading!
Sauce for the Poison Oak on My Who-Ha: That's right...beware of Fabio and his effects...

I know that people often wonder/judge the readers of RNs. Are they stodgy housewives with little "spunk" in their sex lives, or are they old maids that look like Bellatrix and these novels are
their romances. One cannot say. The people I know who read such novels certainly fall into neither category. Frankly, I actually wonder about the authors of the RNs. Um...I'm pretty sure you could get arrested for some of the ideas that are put down in those books. If I'm ever curious about a particular book I may pick it up and skim through, and on several occasions I have put it back on the shelf, pulled my shirt over my face and ran to the children section in order to regain some part of my naive/innocent self that I may have lost in those short moments. Sometimes I look at the pictures of the authors and talk to them. Here is an imaginary conversation I may have:

Me: Soooo, I see most of your characters wear protection. *clears throat* I respect that you're subtly teaching readers about responsibility.
Author: Yea, well, you learn early on that if you need to do research for a book you need to be safe about it.
Me: *slightly uncomfortable* So, um, do you brainstorm these scenes or do they pop into your head or how exactly...
A: Pretty much I think of something and try it out to see if it makes sense or not.
M: *growing more uncomfortable* I see.
A: Yep, plus, I have practically every ______ channel known to man!
M: Oh dear Lord!
A: I know! Who knew there were 127 of those channels?
M: I think maybe you're too saucy for me...I'm going to put you back on the shelf...
A: Wuss!
M: Freely admitted!

END SCENE

So yea. I will ask this of you. Next time you're in a bookstore, just visit the RN isle and look at the pictures of the authors and you tell me what you think. It is also funny to think that there are men writing RNs (Nicholas Sparks) and authors with pen names! I think I would try to get other people to stay away from RNs; I hear they can be addicting and I don't want any of my friends (including me) to fall down that hole. There are a couple of descent authors out there, however, who deal with social issues as well as romance (like Susan Wiggs). Those are ok! However, if you find yourself getting a novel at Walmart or a supermarket...you're lost my friend, and I'm afraid there is no going back...

Happy to hold out a rope for you,
~S

Day 7: Slaughterhouse Five

I just finished Slaughterhouse Five yesterday. I guess if one had to summarize in one sentence, that person would most likely say that it was an anti-war book about freewill. But, it's really about the lack of freewill, isn't it. Billy Pilgrim, the main character "becomes unstuck in time" and travels around to all sorts of moments in his life, but he does not choose to do this. He time travels at random moments to other random moments. Were he to want to time travel, I'm pretty sure that he would not want to continually go back to his experiences during WWII, especially Dresden (pre and post bombing). This book, an accumulation of random moments of Billy Pilgrim's life, are all connected somehow by Dresden and his experiences there. This is also where the book gets its anti-war flavor. A second name for WWII/Dresden within this book is "The Children's Crusade" due to the tragic nature of the war and the war's main characters (youths). In the beginning of the main story, Vonnegut explains that the first and last phrase of the book will be "Billy has become unstuck in time" and "Too-weet-tee." In this way, he gives a frame to the story since the beginning, middle, and end do not fall in that order. Billy dies somewhere in the middle, in fact.

There is also an intrusive and omniscient narrator. The first chapter itself is from the narrator's point of view, told in first person and also involving the narrator's experiences in the war--Dresden itself. It almost seems like an imbedded story since we begin with the narrator's story and then he tells the story of another man which is, in fact, a book that he is writing. During Billy Pilgrim's story you read "That was I. That was me. That was the author of this book." The narrator was present with Billy during the war and in some very particular scenes.

"So it goes" is also a saying that is repeated many times throughout the story. It is an ironic statement involving death. I suppose it is a way of saying "who cares?" or "whatever." This seems odd since the book is so anti-war and there is a strong stance against the deaths of all those people in Dresden. "Who cares?" does that really fit? I suppose that is why it is an ironic statement. I think it could also really surround the Tralfamodorians' view on death: that the person is just in a bad moment at that point of their life but that they will remain to live on in moments of the past, present, and future. The "it" could really be the image of the person at that moment...so the moment goes, so it leaves, so it changes.

One more thing: was Billy really abducted by aliens? It does put an odd twist on the book and really cement the fact that it is about the lack of freewill since the Tralfamadorians state that all moments are "structured" and occurred the way they will always occur. However, if one reads closely, one can see that many of the things that occur or are present during his descriptions of Tralfamadore are things that readers have encountered before in the book. For example, the saying on the locket of Montana was found elsewhere, and the entire "zoo situation" was in one of the books that Billy Pilgrim had read. Was he or was he not taken by aliens to live in a zoo? I suppose I shall leave you with this. It sort of reminds me of Pan's Labryinth.

~S

Day 6: One minute play

Possibly the best phone conversation happened to me today while at work. I will take some notes from "The Rambler" and do a little one minute play:

Me: Free health clinic this is S, how may I help you?
Elphaba: It's me again (Elphie calls at least 4 times each day that I happen to work. I believe that she enjoys listening to my melodic voice when I answer the phone, or it could be she may actually need something. Who knows?)
Me: Hey
E: Could you do me a favor?
M: mmm, ok
E: *giggles* Could you get a hold of maintenance...*pause*...and let them know we need some sanitary napkin disposal containers in the women's bathroom? Do you know where I mean?
M: I'm not sure I do.
E: You know, where women put their sanitary napkin disposals?
M: Are you talking about the vending machine?
E: *laughs* No, where they throw them away.
M: Oh, ah, I see. The brown bags in the stalls?
E: That's right.
M: So just to clarify, you need the sanitary napkins' brown bags refilled in the ladies' bathroom?
E: *struggles to answer* Yes
M: *laughs* Ok
E: *laughs* Thanks
M: No problem. Bye.

END SCENE

Frankly, it was quite amusing. Who knew I would talk about feminine hygiene products today?

I also realized today that I could most likely be an office spy. The Pamphleteer actually pointed this out to me when I first started. She said that since I was so quiet (I know, right) I must be the office spy. Well, I suppose I could be. I hear secret whispers all the time, and not until well into the conversation do they realize that I could potentially hear and shut the door. You have to realize that I do have rather good hearing. Today I overhear Blanche telling Barney Fife that she should have enough employees if Glinda the Good Witch stops scaring people away. While Glinda may be my friend, I do have to say that even if I were an outside observer I would still agree with Glinda's actions. If you hire someone, give them their duties and job descriptions, does that person not have a responsibility to carry those duties and jobs out? If that person neither fulfills the employers' expectations nor does diddly squat, should they not be reprimanded? Since it seems to me that Blanche herself does not act in the way befitting a supervisor (nor any sort of employee one would want to have) perhaps she sympathizes with these slackers. Oh Glinda, S is on your side...

Call me for sanitary napkin disposal units,
~S

Day 5: Cavete! (Beware!)

Frankly, in retrospect, all I have to say is cavete fatuum puerum! Scite tu et audite pectora!

Day 4: Smells like...um, I don't think that's Teen Spirit!

Here is a Haiku for all of my lovely readers:

Mrs. President
Where's your antiperspirant
Have you any, please?

I get paranoid--like, Richard Nixon paranoid--whenever I smell something...mmmm, that assaults the olfactory nerves. "Is it me?" I wonder, as I scoot away from other people and try to waft the air around me. After being disappointed with that experiment, I realize that I had not smelled this stench for the past 6.5hrs and only when a certain Mrs. President came in did the smell begin punching me in the nose like one of those "Knock your block off" toys. No, it couldn't be me! Me with my fresh scrubs, bleached and fabric-softened and ready to go for the work day. No, it had to be Mrs. President with her burlap sack-like clothing; but one mustn't judge. Nor must one stay within a 2 feet radius of Mrs. President. I imagine it is difficult for the doctors to examine her, but this is what they do. Actually, as my nose attempts to run into my head, the smell brings back a true story that I read about. The author was describing the odd things that women do to prevent pregnancies. One particular woman had a peculiar method for birth control. One day she went to the gynocologist and his senses were assaulted by the worst smell. This woman had in fact, used a potato as a prophylactic! How very odd (and smelly) indeed!

Well, I think that's all I shall write about on that subject! It's funny how many crazy things happened the past week or so when I did not have available internet, and now they seem small compared to the other daily happenings. I suppose I shall give key words to describe the past week:

Fuzzy navels; awkard ex-water beds; poop; guinea; golfcart; cow farmer; failed matchmaking; Step Brothers; skunk; Food Network; The Box; Mr. Darcy; Honey-sempai; wakeboarding; carpal tunnel...I believe that wraps it up!

Craziness awaits, be prepared!
- S

Day 3: July 4th

Happy July 4th, readers...uhhhh, does anyone actually read this, I ask myself. Hmm, well, as I am without internet until Monday, I will have to save all the juciness and craziness that has happened for the past 3 days and the future 2. Believe me, you will not be disappointed!