I am truly terrible at maintaining a blog. Truly, truly terrible.
All you’ll find here are grave markers for years-old posts that should have been buried a very long time ago.
I am truly terrible at maintaining a blog. Truly, truly terrible.
All you’ll find here are grave markers for years-old posts that should have been buried a very long time ago.
Posted in Uncategorized
I just read some kids books from the turn of the 20th century and I learned all about what it took to be a hero in gold country.
Here are some instructions.
1) You must be a white male runaway and/or orphan, preferably around 15. (In fact, if you want to be in the book at all, you must be male.)
2) You have to be cool with befriending with all kinds of men, including gamblers, murderers, ranchers, cowboys, trappers and prospectors.
a)Except: Don’t befriend slaves.
i) As a matter of fact, you should probably be judgmental of plantation owners who treat their slaves too well by letting them take breaks once in a while.
b) Or Indians. No befriending of Indians.
3) Carry a gun. Kill lots of animals.
a) Especially a camel, if you come across it. Kill it, cut off the legs and head, and then have a smoke.
b) If you happen upon a family of mountain lions, kill the mother and father with a revolver aimed at the heart, then bash the cubs’ heads in against a rock.
4) Be fearless. Do not be afraid of that guy with a gun. Do not be afraid of the German that follows you hundreds of miles, like a ghost, trying to steal your gold.
a) Except if someone is robbing you at gunpoint and you don’t have a gun, just give them your shit. Don’t be stupid and get yourself killed. You’ll find them later and recover your monies.
b) Remember, fate is a cruel mistress. Anything can be taken from you at any time, whether you’re on the right side of the law or the wrong side of the law.
5) Eat bacon, johnny cakes and coffee for every meal. If you can’t find johnny cakes, substitute with cornbread or hard tack.
6) Remember: only villains kill horses.
For further reference:
Elam Storm, The Wolfer by Harry Castlemon
The Haunted Mine by Harry Castlemon
Posted in Uncategorized
6) Playing “Is that a pool of dried blood or dried soda on the seat next to me?” when I knew full well what the answer was. Hint: the answer was not soda.
5) The lady that decided to sit on the (really, actually, quite large) pool of dried blood on the seat next to me, even after she had been warned about it. Quote: “My jacket is dirty anyway.”
4) Accidentally stepping in vomit inside one of the cars on my way back from lunch. MUNI, you are ADORABLE.
3) Running into my neighbor and boarding the MUNI with her on the way to work. Trying to assure her that folks not standing up on MUNI to give a pregnant lady a seat is just the normal course of events and nothing to worry about. Watching her shout “Will someone please give this pregnant lady a seat” 3 times, give up, and resort to looking straight at each person sitting in the disabled section and repeating the question to them directly. It took her seven tries.
2) Listening to the stories about her brother in a maximum security penitentiary in Houston for the next 20 minutes.
1) THIS DUDE: ———————————————————->
What’s that? You’re not quite sure what you’re looking at over there? No problem… Let’s get a close-up
In case you’re still not quite sure, that’s Nicole Jordan‘s “To Desire a Wicked Duke,” apparently the concluding novel to the “Courtship Wars” – a six book series. This man was so unabashed in his enjoyment of this romance novel that I didn’t even care my MUNI was delayed by 20 minutes! THIS GUY JUST WENT AHEAD AND ROCKED OUT WITH HIS COCK OUT. THIS GUY HAD BALLS. THIS GUY IMPRESSED ME. I TIP MY HAT TO YOU, SIR.
We’re having a girl! Yay! And we’re naming her Roxanne! Double yay!
Except we’re both kind of sort of worried that the immediate association for anyone over 25 who hears the name “Roxanne” will be that song by The Police. And naturally so. It’s pretty catchy. Our first indication that it might be a problem was that within about 2 seconds of pitching the name out there as a possibility, one of us started singing it. The most recent indication came when the ultrasound technician asked us if we had a name picked out – when we told her, her immediate response was “I love that song!”
Yeah, I love that song, too. But it’s about a whore. So I’ll feel like an awful mother if I sing it to my baby.
Daniel came up with a pretty good solution. He’s suggested a few times that we simply use the name “Roxanna” instead of “Roxanne.” Which makes a lot of sense. Except that for reasons unknown, I love the name “Roxanne” but kind of don’t like the name “Roxanna” even a little bit. I am not going to bother trying to explain this, because I don’t understand it either.
The fact that he came up with a really reasonable suggestion and I vetoed it, though, makes me extremely nervous. If my daughter grows up with some sort of complex about the name or if, god forbid, the song enjoys some sort of renaissance or remake during her junior high school years, no one will be able to convince me that I am not personally responsible for ruining her life forever.
The only other solution is to re-write the words into something totally appropriate to sing to a baby. Something that isn’t prostitute related. SO I NEED YOUR HELP.
Please re-write the lyrics to “Roxanne” for me.
I’ll do this contest-style. I’ll keep submissions open until Octoberish/Novemberish. I’ll send you nifty prizes, including:
And, of course, I’ll post the lyrics up here, because the worlds need them; I can’t be the only expectant mom out there who wants to name her daughter Roxanne and is being kept up at nights about this. You’d be doing the world a service. Really. THIS IS A PUBLIC BENEFIT, AND YOU’RE A GOOD PERSON, RIGHT?
Be a superhero. Help a sister out.
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged Baby Names, call for submissions, Contest, I Don't Want to Be a Bad Mother, Lullaby, Lyrics, Public Benefit, Roxanne, The Police
I have been tremendously inconsistent about updating my blog. Because I am pregnant, I will blame this inconsistency on the fact that I suffered from fairly intense morning sickness for three months straight. Anyone who cares to do the math on this excuse will quickly realize that my longest period of blog-slacking actually occurred after the morning sickness had ended. But you know what? No one argues with a pregnant lady. That’s one of the nice things about being pregnant.
The other nice thing about being pregnant is maternity pants. Maternity pants feel like a cross between PajamaJeans® and down from a Zeus-swan.
Those are the two nice things about being pregnant. That’s it.
The rest of being pregnant is pretty much what you’d expect: for example, right now, I am barefoot. I spent the morning watching Maury Povich and sewing the holes in my hand-me-down maternity pants. Later on today, I will probably bake a pie.
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged Leda & the Swan, maternity pants, Maury Povich, morning sickness, PajamaJeans, pregnancy