Monthly Archives: October 2010

Very Mundane Randomness

I’m back after a couple weeks off. Did you miss me?

I went to the state fair last friday. It was awesome. But I should have brought an extra $300 so I could ride all the rides. I only got to ride one.

Also, I think fried Dr. Pepper is a myth. We couldn’t find it anywhere. I had a state fair corn dog, and it was really disappointing. But then I had Tornado Taters, which were wonderful. The food is really the best part of a fair. And the rides. And the crooked midway game operators. And the giant stuffed Scooby Doo’s you can win.

I love the fair.

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You know what else I love? Political attack ads. Funniest things on tv.

Here’s my current favorite:

Jet fuel?

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I also love local morning soft news shows. The ones that are like Good Morning America, only with local talent (or “talent”).

When I lived in Waco, there was a great morning news show. It was very apparent that the two anchor people had just begun sleeping together. The girl would start blushing every time the guy spoke to her. And then he would sort of nudge her affectionately.

I only wish I’d still lived in Waco when they broke up. I bet that was television gold.

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I have a costume party to attend this weekend! I’m not going to tell you what I’m going as, so as to surprise you with pictures.

Stay tuned early next week for a tutorial on how I made my costume.

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I had a conversation with my mom earlier today that was almost entirely about baked goods. I’m currently craving every kind of cookie. Recommendations, anyone?

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Adventures in Being Mistaken for a Domestic Violence Victim

A few years ago, I went through a month-long period where I constantly had suspicious-seeming bruises that I’d actually inflicted on myself through gross stupidity.

It’s story time.

I can’t remember in what order these events transpired, so I’ll just tell them from least stupid to most stupid.

Least stupid:

I worked as a bartender at a high-volume restaurant in Arlington. In this restaurant, I made margarita mix by the 10 (or so) gallon bucket. Then, I’d have to carry the very heavy bucket into the walk-in cooler and dump it into an even bigger bucket. A system of tubes transported the margarita mix back out into the bar’s margarita machine. Then, the drain on the margarita machine led to another system of tubes which dripped onto the floor of the walk-in cooler. It’s the circle of life.

Ideally, when you have recycled margarita mix dripping out of a tube, you want that tube to lead to a drain of some kind. However, when they built this restaurant, they apparently forgot to put in a drain. So the margarita mix would just drip onto the floor of the cooler, congealing into a very slippery goo.

So, one day, I made a batch of margaritas and carried the very heavy bucket into the cooler. When I stepped onto the congealed goo, my foot shot out from under me. I did the cartoony slipping-in-place thing for a second or so, then fell backward onto my ass, dumping ten gallons of margarita mix onto my face in the process.

I came away from this incident smelling like tequila and with a nice big bruise on my extreme-upper hip.

Slightly more stupid:

When my husband and I moved into our first apartment, our bedroom had two giant windows. As someone who regularly worked until 2:00 in the morning, the sun was my enemy. So I made us some curtains.

We were poor and couldn’t afford a curtain rod. However, we had a staple gun.

I set out one day to staple our curtains to the wall above the windows. We didn’t have a step-ladder or anything, so I used a chair. But the only chair we had that didn’t weigh a ton was the desk chair. A swivel chair. On wheels.

So I bravely climbed onto the chair and started stapling. When I got to the mid-point of the window, it was kind of a stretch to actually reach what I was doing, but I proceeded anyway. The staple gun I was using had a bit of a kick to it. So I stretched all the way out, barely hanging on to the staple gun, one hand holding the curtain, leaning really far over, so that most of my body weight is hovering over nothing. And I pulled the trigger.

The kick from the staple gun caused the chair to start spinning around, making it difficult for me to regain my balance, which led to me falling.

Because the chair had wheels, it shot in the opposite direction of my body, and I ended up somehow falling under the bed, scraping my back on the metal bed frame in the process.

The best part was when Adam, who had been taking a shower and heard a huge thump, came out, soaking wet, in a towel, calling my name. And since I was under the bed, he couldn’t see my whole body, just my legs, which weren’t moving. He though I was dead.

It was hilarious.

Most stupid:

This one is really, just…

You know what? I’ll let you judge for yourself.

I was getting into Adam’s sister’s car, and I hit myself in the face with the car door.

No build up. That’s it. I remember doing it, seeing the car door coming at me and thinking, “Hmm. That’s about to hit me in the face.”

And still, I didn’t stop it, or move my head or anything. Just hit myself in the face with the car door.

This gave me a lovely black eye. But that’s not where the story ends.

My husband and I were moving. Our moving day happened to coincide with a friend’s daughter’s birthday party, which I had to at least make an appearance at.

Because of all that we had to do that day, and because I generally got off work at about 2:00 am, I hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before. I was exhausted, dressed in shitty clothes because we were moving. And I had a black eye.

So Adam and I show up to this birthday party. I’m sure I looked miserable. I’d warned all my friends about my black eye, and that I hadn’t gotten any sleep, and that I was moving that day. But one of my friends forgot to tell her mom.

As soon as she saw me – standing next to Adam – she came up and started a conversation as she pulled me into the kitchen in an iron death-grip.

The conversation went like this:

“Oh Lindsay, last time you were here, you left something in the kitchen, let’s go get itohmygodwhathappenedtoyoureye?! Did he do that to you?”

I explained about my stupidity and she seemed to buy it. (It’s really a pretty easy sell if you know me.)

I told Adam afterward. He thought it was funny. (Thank god, you don’t want to see him when he’s angry.)

It’s a good thing I didn’t have to go to the doctor during this Month of Suspicious Bruises. Adam would still be in jail.

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This was not the only time I was mistaken for a domestic violence victim. I can’t really tell the other story, but it begins with me hitting some guy’s car and him being really angry at me, and ends with the same guy pulling me aside and telling me I deserved to be with someone who respects me and treats me right.

Apparently people just want to take care of me.

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Random Acts of Niceness

Though I can be a bitch at times, I appreciate niceness just as much as the next person. So I decided to devote a section of this week’s randominity to niceness.

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Who is the nicest person ever to walk the earth? Mr. Rogers, of course. If you haven’t already seen this list of reasons why Mr. Rogers was the best neighbor ever, you must check it out. And if you’ve already seen it, it wouldn’t hurt your heart even the tiniest bit to read it again.

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Another person who is really nice, in addition to possibly being the cutest human being to ever stand on two legs, is Kate Micucci. You may recognize her from Garfunkel & Oates. (She’s Oates).

Anyway, this is a song she wrote for the show Scrubs.

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And, in the nicest niceness crossover ever, this is a song Kate Micucci wrote about Mr. Rogers. Smile and tilt your head adoringly as you watch.

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Thus endeth the official “niceness” section of today’s post. But the rest are things that I consider nice, also.

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I can’t get through my day without podcasts. They make my spreadsheets seem slightly less excruciating.

I’ve already told you about the Nerdist Podcasts, as well as Pop Culture Happy Hour. The next podcast I implore you to listen to is Doug Loves Movies, where comedian Doug Benson brings on celebrity guests to talk about movies and play the Leonard Maltin game. What is the Leonard Maltin game, you ask? Listen and find out.

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And finally, this one is nice, too. If you follow any movie-related blogs, you’ve probably read about the death of Sally Menke, who was Quentin Tarantino’s editor. (That’s not the nice part.) Tarantino encouraged his actors to say hello to Sally every once in a while so she wouldn’t feel so lonely in the editing booth. Anyway, here’s a collection of “Hi Sally”s.

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