Scooped, by another blogger! O.J. Simpson and the Absurdity of Life!

Mondays and Wednesdays are lousy days for me to be able to write and do other stuff because I teach straight through the day. By the time I'm done, I'm so spent, I barely have time to really do much but go home and crash. I do try to read some news during my pathetic 30 minute lunch, and today's news is of course, the insanity about O.J. Simpsom getting a special on tv to describe how he would have killed his ex-wife if he had done it.

I immediately came up with like 40 different ways to respond to this, and be clever, and express my outrage. It's what I do--pretend to be amazingly clever.

Well, I sit down at my computer at home this afternoon, check some e-mail, moderate some goofiness at a forum, and then, figuring I'm going to impress my readers with a psychotic rail against that master criminal with the big brass ones, I decide to check in at Chad's blog to see if he added any more 12 of 12 people. I know it's weird--I don't know the man--he's got an interesting blog--he's got some interesting links to other interesting blogs. I read them--they amuse me or make me think, and here's the thing--I think that's what blogging is about, so forgive me with my total familiarity with this guy I don't know, and allow me to continue to refer to him as just Chad, some blogger in California.

ANYWAY, having discovered that he beat me to the punch about O.J., and having published a rather impressive rant himself, I bow to his post and suggest you read it here. That way I can rationalize that the whole bit in the previous paragraph about Chad's blog was just me having to spew something in response to O.J.'s audacity.

Have a nice day.

I hit another deer!

Yep. That makes three. I'm getting a complex. And Christy was in the passenger seat, so you know a series of phone calls were made. Notably, to our favorite newsman, Jeffy, he of the famously insulting birthday present: The Deerslayer. Yeah, Jeff, you're Mr. Chuckles.

Isn't this the baseball annotation for three strikes--yer out?

Rob is now my muse

He sent me this brilliant reminder of our greatness in the universe.

Burger King's french fries are gross

It's a beautiful day today. The fall colors are absolutely exquisite. When the sun shines brightly at this time of year, the golden leaves and deep reds, in contrast to an unbelievable blue sky, makes me just want to lie in a pile of leaves and look up.

But, no! I am in a tomb with no windows, listening to a priest on the other side of the world ramble about technology. It's a good thing he's gonna be talking about the Simpson's in a minute.

So, because I am in a bitter mood about being stuck in my office instead of playing outside, I post a list of pet peeves. Maybe it will make my bitchy mood go away.

Bego's pet peeves (today--tomorrow I could theoretically have a different list):

people who drive gigantic SUV's and can't park them

people who don't use turn signals

Atlanta traffic

late people

being late

getting out of bed when it's cold

people who wear too much perfume

cell phones

people who think rules don't apply to them

not having time to write

dry erase markers

toxic people

and of course

Burger King's french fries

feel free to add your pet peeves to my list.

My budding thespian

Christy's going to the state audition in January! How cool is that? Now she needs to learn a new monologue---that'll be exciting.

By the way, that's a Tony Award there. I'm just sayin'.

Early Roman Shipwreck Carried Fish Sauce

I love reading headlines! Who comes up with these headlines--especially since the articles tend to be les than exciting. I mean, after a crazy headline like this one:

Early Roman Shipwreck Carried Fish Sauce

Who could get excited about the full story, here.

November 12 of 12

7:20 AM

Christy walked the pooch before going to church. The afternoon Mass was cancelled, so we figured we'd go early. It was very early. Did I say early? Yeah.

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BONUS PICTURE: Thanksgiving.

9:00 AM

This is our chapel, which has my favorite window behind the altar. The window panes are confusing, but there's a cross outside the window. I like it, plus, John had a cow when he saw me carry the camera into church, but this was my intention all along, even though we attended Mass in the main sanctuary, which isn't as lovely, and has a goofy statue of a risen Christ that is....well, I think it's goofy.

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10:00 AM

Since we were up we decided to go out for breakfast at one of those all-you-can-eat buffets. This is Jonathan's third or fourth plate. Or rather, what's left of it.

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10:30 AM

We went for a drive and found this guy flying a gigantic kite (it looks like a parachute) and he was on this skateboard-looking thing coasting along like he was windsurfing. Very cool.

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10:40 AM

Those of you who read my blog regularly, know that I am scandalized by the insane numbers of people driving their electric wheelchairs on the road and risking their lives, plus mine in a crazy endeavor. When I saw this sign I made John turn around and park so I could take the picture. He was mumbling something about spending extra time in purgatory for being an accessory, but I ignored him (as usual).

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12:30 PM

The kids raked the yard, but really, all they did was play in the leaves.

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3:00 PM

I did some laundry. Again. There's something satisfying about folding towels. Who knew that was a zen of towel-folding?

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3:00 PM

Meanwhile, the guys cleaned up the basement. This is the before picture. I didn't post the after because blogger was having a cow, but I'll put it up later. It actually looks like a room now.

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5:00 PM

I celebrated with a delicious Australian merlot, but didn't have any cheese or crackers worthy of such a fine wine. Bugles worked in a pinch. Actually, Bugles are pretty good with wine. Perhaps it's gauche, but it was an Aussie wine--they're mavericks, right?

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7:30 PM

After dinner Christy and I had our asses handed to us AGAIN. Those boys cheat.

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9:00 PM

Here I am working on my novel for NaNoWriMo. You can see the fist of frustration. At least it wasn't the finger.

tomorrow is 12 of 12

gotta play

gotta play

take 12 pictures of your day: the bonus is Thanksgiving

check out Chad Darnell's site--he came up with the idea--don't forget to go over to his site and add your link!

my brother is a clown

He feels it is his duty to annoy me and Vicky. I just think he's funny--Vicky, no doubt, was thinking unprintable things this morning. He's in Milan on business, which translates to--he's sitting in a bar on Saturday afternoon having a drink, which is naturally, 6 am here.

The text of the message went something like this:

So, Snape a good guy, or following orders?

My personal opinion, Snape is good and will be redeemed in the next book, but that's neither here nor there. The point is he woke our butts up to pose the stupid question.

Vicky, of course, is tremendously agitated by the experience, I'm sure. I'm with my brother--a chuckle, and I rolled back to sleep.

anybody else afraid of microwave ovens?

I get a lttle creeped out by them, in a weird, science-fiction B-movie kinda way. The Stepford Wife quality of the chick in the picture doesn't help. I don't know about you, but I look like that in the morning when I warm up some water for tea.

First of all, I can't just put something in it and walk away. I am compelled to stand in front of it and wait. At some point I realize maybe that's not a good thing, so I take a step or two back.

By then I feel like all the cells in my body are cooking, and my scalp starts to tingle. Again, I move further away, only by then I am feeling totally stupid and embarrassed by my neurosis.

So of course, I publish my idiotic behavior here. I'm a loser.

Thanksgiving is giving thanks

Thanksgiving isn't just a national holiday and an excuse to pig out on too many carbs. Although admittedly, it does have its allure.

Today is a glorious Indian Summer day. The sun is shining so brightly, and so warmly that I had to go outside and bask in its glow. Who knew I could be so romantic? About nature, no less?

I'll treasure the moment, because it isn't going to last. Tomorrow, we'll return to the damp gray dullness that is Atlanta in the fall.

NaNoWriMo conspiracy

So the world is conspiring to keep me from writing. Jonathan busted out some brackets, so they went ahead and removed the whole thing. He celebrated by eating a grilled chicken sandwich with bacon.

I celebrated by taking a picture of his $4k mouth. He better wear his retainer.

Meanwhile, the run to the orthodontist cost me precious writing time (I love inventing reasons for not being able to write--it's part of the game).

Christy had a fantastical audition for the Governor's Honors Program for drama. She worked very hard on her monologue, and then the guy directed her differently. Ha! That's how it goes. She felt like she did her best, so now we wait to hear from them.

Meanwhile, she brings home these headshots, and so I tried to take a picture of her so I could say something clever, like "All right, Mr. Deville. I'm ready for my close up."

But, she was uncooperative, citing some goofy excuse like she was in her pj's and not in the mood for a picture. She's just grumpy. But cute.

And what news of Vicky? After spending all day at the polls yesterday, I took her home for some TLC and John's potato soup. She was feeling really crappy and spent the day at the university health clinic, where they first had to determine she didn't have mono (thanks, I'd like not to explore that one further) and determined that she had strep throat. I'd post a picture, but I'm feeling charitable.

Election Day

It's raining so everybody is going to make excuses.

Can't get to the polls cuz it's raining.

Can't get to class cuz it's election day.

Hmmm.

I voted. Early. I also did something I never thought I'd do on purpose. For the first time in my life, I voted a straight ticket down partisan lines. Out of spite. Perhaps not the most patriotic thing to do, but hey, it's one of those you're damned if you do and you're damned if you don't kind of things. I'm yearning for a Mr. Smith Goes to Washington moment.

I'm joing the anti-party party. I'm officially done with hyphenated Americanism. I'm American. Period.

We get the government we deserve.

Wow, that looks like some freaky drug-induced found poem or something. Perhaps the rain has put me in a foul mood. Or maybe the politicians did it. Who knows. It occurs to me, however, that I really don't have a great deal of interest in hearing the results tonight. Nevertheless, I will dutifully tune in. Maybe by tonight I will have drop kicked this cynical mood. Or maybe not, in which case I will watch The Distinguished Gentleman instead.

this is a sport?

I wonder if you can get a varsity letter for this?

I'm a magnet for weirdos

A long time ago I had one of those embarrassing moments where, once again, I was reminded that it's a terrible idea to leave the house in an awful state of dress for fear of breaking down or crashing, and then being caught with my pants down.

Figuratively speaking of course.

I think I may have blogged about it, but I'm in no mood to find the link, so I'll give the Reader's Digest version. I took the kids to school in John's old pick-up (the one that was burning oil and has since died a horrible death involving broken rods). We were running a bit late, so I wore: a Star Trek Starfleet Academy T-Shirt--complete with cadet on the sleeve, a pair of red bermuda shorts with paint stains, no socks, and brown hiking boots. I don't think I brushed my hair, I just tied a loose pony tail. Anyway, I stopped at a gas station to get gas after dropping off the kiddos, and I was approached by the poster-babe for Who's White Trash in America. She, of the 2-inch black roots and unnatural straw-colored hair, toting a 12-pack of Colt 45 in one arm, and a cartoon of Lucky Strikes under the other, asked me for a ride "back to the trailer park." I guess I deserved it.

That's the kind of experience one has once in a lifetime. I mean, I've never, ever, left the house looking like that again. In fact, I threw away the shorts, and only held on to the Starfleet Academy t-shirt for sentimental reasons. So, confident that I could never possibly attract anyone as weird as that ever again, I went on living my life while keeping a safe distance from those women who seem to be a "little on the trashy side."

As uncharitable as the next statement will be, there is a woman like that who tends to sit in front of me at mass. Let's face it, we are territorial, even in our seating at worship, so I sit in the same place, and she sits in the same place, maybe a pew or two ahead of me. She's a little bit...odd. Crazy died blonde hair, clothes a bit too young for her apparently advanced age (um, lest anyone accuse me of throwing stones, I'm no spring chicken, and really not against the tasteful approach to youthful clothes, ok?). She exhibits other bizarre behaviors, too, such as eating candy during the homily. Very weird. And very noisy, she tends to bring things that are wrapped tightly in hard cellophane, so we have to listen to the crinkling.

Tonight, after 5 or 6 years of exchanging pleasant nods, she decides to speak to us. It was worth the wait. NOT.

Here's the request, in the middle of the consecration, which is the most solemn part of the mass: "Do you have bi-focals? Can I borrow your bi-focals? There's something I gotta read."

Ok, so there are now several things going through my mind. First, what? Clearly, I must have looked at her funny, because she repeated the question. Second, what the heck does she need to read with such urgency during the consecration? I guess she used that time to catch up on her reading. I dunno, maybe listening to prayers and responding at the appropriate time was too much for her. Finally, and this one was the blow to my ego, do I look like I need bi-focals? I can't deny the passage of time.

If I was in a better mood I'd look up a suitable line of poetry about graceful aging or something. Really, though, I'm not in the mood.

But back to the chick. Whatever it was that she had to read was really bugging her, because a little while later she turns around and taps on John's arm, like he was asleep instead of, oh, I dunno, reverently waiting for his turn to go up to communion. "Excuse me, can I borrow your bi-focals? There's something I have to read."

John shot her a look of incredulity that could melt an iceberg. She became agitated and starting waving, WAVING! at Barb to get her attention. It was unsuccessful, because Barb, being of sound mind, chose to not see a hysterical chick waving at her during communion. I wish we could have done that.

We never did see what was so urgent--we ducked out before the blessing to set up dinner for the teens. You can bet I'm going to be sitting in a different spot next week.

NaNoWriMo Update

So we've had a fine weekend, with some fun at the football game Friday night, an early morning cross country meet which wiped us out totally for the rest of the day (me and Jonathan evidently coming down with something-my migraine returned yesterday by lunch, and is still visiting sunday afternoon- but whatever, that's not what this post is about), and cards with friends last night.

And writing?

Oh, yeah. Not much. Only 1,500 words or so. That's less than half what I needed to do for yesterday and today. That, plus the fact that what I am writing is totally stupid, has somehow oddly spurred me on to continue. Go figure.

I think when I finish I'll even upload it. For grins and giggles. At least it will serve as an example of how necessary revision is. I've already caught myself in a major plot inconsistancy. Thank goodness the book is scrambled and only the words count.

REgional Cross country Meet

That's where I'm going this morning. It's cold, too. Blasted!

Frick and Frack will be in worse shape, as those cross country uniforms barely qualify as underwear (unless you are a boy--then it Is the underwear).

It's currently 34 degrees, but feels like 29. That's nice. NOT!

Letters to God a Commodity?

What a weirdly sad story in today's news. A guy who was fishing with his son found a bag full of letters to God. You can read the full article here. It makes me sad that this guy is putting the package up for sale on eBay.

I think eBay is very cool. It's a great way to get rid of stuff you don't want, or a great place to get hard to find, unusual, or cheap stuff. But, I think it's also a source of crazy, inappropriate, and sometimes just plain wrong merchandising.

Why can't this guy just take those letters to a church, where they can end up in an offering as they were intended? We all know that the intent to pray is the prayer, so those letters served their purpose for the writers, but it just seems plain tacky to sell those folks' pain.

I love autumn

This is my favorite time of year. Ok, well, I like spring, too. And winter. Maybe it's just that I don't like summer, so anything that isn't summer is my favorite time of year. Yeah.

But, I really do like fall.

This afternoon I went to move my car at work. I parked at the end of the lot, which isn't a bad thing during the day, but since I leave at night and it's dark at 8 pm, I like to move closer to the building, where the security people are huddling because they are afraid to patrol the parking lot in the dark.

It was the kind of fall day that made me regret not having my camera. The sun was shining brightly, so you could feel the heat on your face in spite of the cold crisp air. And there was enough of a breeze to make the leaves flutter and rustle about. It was a Great Pumpkin day.

NaNoWriMo: Day 1

Feverish writing: 2,433 words

Feverish planning: that doesn't count for the words

Resisting revision: priceless!

Stupid avoidance behavior for the day: I wrote longhand while giving midterms. I counted the words manually. I'm a loser.

Little engine that could moment: I can do this!

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Incidentally, for those of you wondering what this means, it's National Novel Writing Month. Check out the website.