Deadly

If you're like my friend bzh, you might think this is the greatest infographic ever. And, fair enough. It's funny and informative, and I am in favor of both.

But I think it reaches its full awesome potential if you look at each map once, just focusing on New Hampshire. And then go through again, looking just at the D.C. area.

I'm just sayin'.

Closed

For the first time ever, I need to close comments on a post. No, it's not something you did. Well, maybe, if you're an Asian spammer. If you have something more to say on the subject originally discussed in that post, or something to say about Asian spammers, you may comment here.
Asian spammers, go away. In fact, all spammers, go away.

Reflections on having to ask a coworker to drive me home in the middle of a weekday afternoon so I can change into jeans and pop a couple of Advil

Remember this bit, from the pilot episode of Seinfeld?

[VIDEO REMOVED; see update below.]

You know who makes jokes like the one that starts at about the 1:04 mark?

Male comedians.

[UPDATE 8/3/10: Apparently, that video has been removed by the user. This one's shorter, and only contains the joke in question.]

Felix to my Oscar, and also vice versa

A million years ago, I asked for your requests. I'd planned for my next one to be a food rant, per whimsy's request. I even planned to beat her to the punch. But then she did her own food rules, so I won't beat her. I may as well do another one that comes more naturally right this minute, also from whimsy:

... please do give details about the roommate. Roommates are intensely blog-worthy.

Sure.
The roommate, or TR as he's been called elsewhere here (I swear, I'll wrap that story up) is one of my very dearest friends. When I used to go to Lake Placid? That was to see TR. We've known each other at least somewhat since 1993, been close friends since a few years after that. We have seen each other through lots of crap, TR and I, and I love him very much.

But I suck at living with people now. I have lived alone for so long that I seem to have kind of a few control issues about my space. TR's old roommate from Lake Placid (who we will call DS) (the D is for Dreamy) came to visit a few weeks back, and before TR got home from work, DS and I had a beer on the deck.
"Will you miss having TR as a roommate?" he asked.
"Nope," I said, too fast. I quickly amended that: "I mean, I'll miss having him around, like I always do. But I won't miss having someone else living here."
DS made the next leap even quicker than I would have: "What if you someday get involved with someone?"
I went on at some length about how that wasn't going to be the same, if it ever happened, because there'd be some incentive to make living together work. With TR, there's just incentive to keep the friendship alive through five weeks. (It did not occur to me until much later, and by "much later," I mean, "yesterday," that maybe the actual answer is that I can't live with someone I'm involved with and I just don't know it because I haven't tried yet.)

And alive the friendship has remained, even through last week, when we had a million houseguests (and by "houseguests," I mean "members of my extended family") for a whole week.

Here's the kind of guy TR is:

• When my city-dwelling houseguests (see above) locked him out, and he came home at 3 in the morning, rather than disrupt my (or their) sleep by calling to be let in, he slept in his car.
• When I bought ingredients to make Lisa's meatballs so we could eat them together and then forgot about it until the last night he was going to be here, he agreed to spend his last night in town as a meatball guinea pig. (I'll let you know how they are after we eat 'em.)
  
• When he was looking for activity to procrastinate packing, knowing that he was leaving town, he did not spend that procrastinatey time on the Internet or watching Star Trek. He spent it making home repairs to my house.

Love that guy.

Some thoughts while watching "True Romance"

• Interesting that the Blu-ray people would advertise the Blu-ray format on a Blu-ray disc. I mean, the only people who will see it are the people who are already on board, right?
• I forgot that I used to eat Chef Boyardee ravioli. Like, I used to think of ravioli as something filled with beef, that came out of a can.
• My theory that any movie with Brad Pitt in it is good, no matter how small his part, holds true. This movie demonstrates, in fact, that that theory trumps my theory that anything with Bronson Pinchot in it is terrible, no matter how small his part, if both Brad Pitt and Bronson Pinchot should happen to be in the same film.
• Why did I put True Romance on my Netflix list in the first place? Who or what suggested to me that I would like this movie? I mean, I do, but why would I think that? Maybe because I liked Donnie Darko?
• I have personally seen several much better Elvis impersonators (at the Lithuanian Hall in Baltimore, for starters) than Val Kilmer is in this movie.
  
• Wait, Val Kilmer?
• Yup. Val Kilmer.
• Why is the part of Elvis credited (and subtitled) as "Mentor"?
• This is the second movie in a week that I've seen Jack Black in from before I knew Jack Black existed.
• This is also the second movie in a week that I've seen Samuel L. Jackson in from before I knew Samuel L. Jackson existed.
• Seems like I watch a lot of movies.
  
• How do you know when it's too many movies?
  

The story of my new hot water heater, told in narrative and Facebook status updates (Part 1)

Last Saturday (7/25), I got up early, and decided to do a little laundry. I gathered my dirty clothes together and found a leak in my water heater and about an inch of water in the basement.

Awesome, right?

I called the emergency plumbing and heating number and asked for a plumber. The answering service said she'd have him call me "right back." I woke up the temporary roommate to let him know what was going on. After an hour, I called the plumbing company again; they were still trying to reach the plumber. So much for emergency service. That gave the roommate a chance to convince me that actually, if we cut off the supply to the water heater, we wouldn't have an emergency, and I wouldn't have to pay an emergency rate for the plumber. When the plumber finally called back, he agreed.

So, temporary roommate (hereafter known as TR) shut off the water, and spent several hours getting water out of the basement. Then, like the bad person I am, I abandoned TR to keep working on water removal and return the roofers pump to Home Depot while I ran off to get my hair cut before my stylist went on maternity leave. Sorry, TR.

[bzzzzgrrrl] has had a hell of the day: hot water heater's still broken, basement is mostly not flooded anymore, hair looks fabulous, valuable information actually gleaned from an issue of Cosmo. Any questions?
July 25 at 6:18pm

A good homeowner might have cleaned up the remaining pooling water Saturday night, or Sunday. I am not that homeowner.

Instead, I did nothing about the smallish amount of water in the basement and went to stay with my sister and help her with the baby on Monday. That also left TR and my parents to deal with plumbers on Monday (outside emergency hours), which they did, wonderfully. Poor TR did without hot water for almost a week, in fact. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, I had a high old time (including showering) with my sister, brother-in-law and niece, with periodic breaks to call plumbers, utility companies, TR and my parents.

[bzzzzgrrrl] is home. And still dealing with the hot water heater.
July 30 at 11:43am

My new plumber of choice came out to the house on Thursday and gave me an estimate for replacing the water heater. We booked him to come the next day.

[bzzzzgrrrl] is listening to the sweet sweet sounds of a new tankless water heater being installed.
Fri at 12:08pm

The plumber (with some, but not a lot) of help from another plumber installed my new water heater. There was some trouble draining the old one, but he got it done.

As he was cleaning up, we chatted. It seems the good folks at this particular heating and plumbing organization have had some hard times lately. One guy was injured by a 700-pound propane tank falling on him. The guy who had helped my plumber's grandmother had just died. And my plumber had a close friend die just a few years ago of an unfortunate stomach-stapling-related complication.

Anyway, the friendly plumber got my check, fixed my license plate to my car, and was on his merry way.

[bzzzzgrrrl] started the dishwasher, then jumped in the shower, then started a load of laundry and told the roommate he could get in the shower.
Fri at 5:42pm

Stay tuned for Part 2. It's way shorter. I promise.

Home, sweet and sour home

I had lots of great requests for blog posts, and I will try to get to them all.
Today, we'll start with the easiest, because that's what I can handle right now.

From Amanda:

List all the cities/towns/burgs you've ever lived in and tell us what one thing do you miss most and one thing you'll never miss about that place.

Lebanon, NH, 1971-74 (This one's hard, because I was two when we moved, and really have only two memories of being there. We'll call one of them positive and one negative.)

• Do miss: Using the dough box on the porch as a pretend rowboat with my friend Emily.
  
• Don't miss: Looking down the steep back stairs into the kitchen.
  

Kingston, NH, 1974-85

• Do miss: Playing with neighborhood kids in our connected yards. I had no idea at the time how awesome our yards were, and how awesome for my sister and me that we were in the middle, age-wise, of our neighbors.
  
• Don't miss: Living soooooooooo far away from school and town. Missing the bus was a real ordeal.
  

Wayland, MA, 1985-89 (or 93, depending on how you count)

• Do miss: Hanging out in basements. I don't know why we spent so much time in so many people's basements, but we did, and I loved it.
  
• Don't miss: The culture of tolerated dishonesty. Living in Wayland was totally formative for me; I went from being a kid with a maybe slightly overdeveloped sense of "fair" to someone who was really unable to abide cheating, due largely to being exposed to so much of it in that environment, so blatantly. People have commented in my adult life that I am very ethical, sometimes to the point of self-righteousness. That is entirely a reaction to Wayland. It was like a vaccine.
  

Madison, NJ, 1989-93

• Do miss: All the people. I had a professor (Psychology of Stress and Stress Management) who freaked out the class (which consisted of mostly second-semester seniors, though I was a first-year student) by reminding us that this was the last time in our lives we'd ever be surrounded by so many people of our own age, with similar interests. It was true. Making and maintaining friendships was easier then. And there was always stuff to do, even if some of it wasn't all that smart.
  
• Don't miss: Being a student. I'm not all that good at it, or all that interested in it.
  

Washington, DC, 1993-94

• Do miss: The people I lived with, my view of the Cathedral, and Sunday evenings watching Murder She Wrote with my grandmother.
  
• Don't miss: The $100-a-month stipend we lived on, and even that is not as bad as it sounds: We also had housing, health insurance, and an extra $90 a month for food. But still.
  

Hanover, NH, 1994-95

• Do miss: Dinner club. One of my best friends from high school (who was still an undergraduate, in that town), had a club of folks who would take turns cooking for each other. I have replicated it in small ways, but never to the degree we had then. I have rarely eaten so well, and the company was terrific.
• Don't miss: The stupid dog who came with my house. The woman who owned the house was renting it to me at what she assured me was a great deal, while she was out of the country. But she had a dog, which, no big deal, I like dogs. But this particular dog needed to have a door open for her at all times. In Hanover, NH. In the winter. She was also very needy. The dog, not the owner, although a case could be made there, too.
  

Jaffrey, NH, 1995-96

• Do miss: The house and property, kind of. It was a great house, but it was a group house full of strangers, so I mostly kept to my room, instead of using the rest of the house. Still, it was really pretty.
  
• Don't miss: The unease of living with a drug dealer. It was just weed, and he and his girlfriend were both always very nice, and I didn't even know they were dealing until he got arrested, but still, it was weird.
  

Walpole, NH, 1996-97

• Do miss: Living in an apple orchard with those great roommates. We had a helluva time, a lot of the time.
  
• Don't miss: Living in the middle of nowhere. It was a twenty-minute drive to the nearest anything. Also, one of my roommates often drove that twenty minutes drunk, which made me very nervous.
  

Keene, NH, 1997-99

• Do miss: My upstairs neighbors and their foosball table (which they eventually gave me). We had a good time.
  
• Don't miss: One of a series of creepy relationships with a creepy creepy dude. In fact, now that I think about it, I had two of those in those days in Keene. They were so creepy it's hard to picture myself in those situations, but I have wound up in several of them over my life. The second most memorable and one of the two creepiest were in Keene in this period.
  

Arlington, VA, 1999-2007

• Do miss: Individual people. I made some fantastic friends there, some of the best of my life, and I miss them very, very much. I also miss having a group of coworkers who were always up for getting a beer, although I realize now that we were not always in the healthiest patterns when we did that, at either of the two Arlington places of employment where I had that. Sometimes we were, though. Sometimes, it was just fun, moderate bonding.
  
• Don't miss: The constant feeling that people thought they were better than anyone else around them. It manifests itself in the craziest rudeness. That was what was eventually too too hard.
  

Enough about me; what do you think about me?

I know some of you are wondering where all those posts you demanded are, and I promise I'm working on (at least two of) them.

But right now, I need a little help.

I'm filling out a form that you absolutely don't need to know or speculate what it's for, and it asks a bunch of questions that are difficult for me, because they are ridiculous.

So, I would like you to answer them for me. And I mean "for me" in many senses: "for" as in "on behalf of," but also "in support of" and "not against."

Because, really, who better to answer these questions than my family, closest friends, and a handful of strangers who only know what I choose to display on the Internet?

Here it is, for those of you who have some time and energy to spare:

• What am I most passionate about?
• What are the three things I am most thankful for?
  
• Other than my parents, who has been the most influential person in my life and why?
• Other than my appearance, what is the first thing that people notice about me?
• What are five things that I "can't live without?"

Needy

This is one of those memes that goes around, and I thought I'd done it already, but now I think maybe not. You Google your name and "needs," and post the first five answers that come up. Mine (using my real first name) go like this:

• [bzzzzgrrrl] needs a home.
• [bzzzzgrrrl] needs to be bonked.
• [bzzzzgrrrl] needs a haircut.
• [bzzzzgrrrl] needs braces.
• [bzzzzgrrrl] needs tacos.

Hahahahahahahahahahaha. Right?
Oh, no.
So much better when done with "does not need."

• [bzzzzgrrrl] does not need the help of any paintings or pictures to make the varied combinations of colors and designs on her wall hangings.
• [bzzzzgrrrl] does not need a bigger penis, doesn't play video games, hates ringtones, and despises advertising of any kind.
• [bzzzzgrrrl] does not need permission to enter her own official residence, as she is the president's wife.
• [bzzzzgrrrl] does not need added income, and the foundation fees will not be a large part of her annual income.
• [bzzzzgrrrl] does not need to sleepwalk to express herself.

So NOW what'll the little lambs eat?

Remember this, a month and a half ago?
Here's today:

That's right, sports fans. Today, a guy in a cherry picker came and cleared the ivy off my window (and, presumably, the windows of others in my building). I smiled at him and said, "thank you!" cheerily, but he either ignored me or couldn't hear me over the entire cacophony of the cherry picker.

I suddenly feel very exposed.

Three things you should read on the Internet — by me

Remember how I promised you a twist this week? No? I did it yesterday. Are you worried about this memory loss?
Anyway, here's Whimsy's twist, for which I give her a great deal of credit and no blame whatsoever, because I am apparently a much bigger showoff than her other blog friends:

I want everyone to pick three of their OWN posts. Not a time for modesty, folks. I personally think that we're our hardest critics, but also, we know when we've actually done something pretty well. I want to get some recommendations from you, about you. Three of your favorite posts. Doesn't matter WHY they're you're favorites - but I'd like to hear your reasons too, if you'd like. Otherwise, how's THAT for an easy blog post: here are three things I wrote and I feel pretty good about them. The end.

So, here are three things I wrote and I feel pretty good about them:

1. Great Interview, Batman. This is the one where I am a big cheat who wants three more wishes. I do love this one (thanks, PMJG), but I admit it's mostly on the list because it's a pretty good intro to CMC, and because it has links to lots of other posts.
2. Ice tongue. I am not sure whether it is funnier if you know the players or don't. Either way, you know, it's what we do best around here: funny stories at my expense.
3. Rick Rolling. This is not as funny as it sounds like it'd be from the title. It is very long, and very unfunny. But also, I think, worth reading.
   

Tidbits! (Now, with more tid!)

So, the last post I wrote was last Friday, when I steered you to three things on the Internet to read. Tomorrow, I'll do the same thing (with a twist, special thanks and much credit to Whimsy).

And I cannot bear the thought that the only posts I have written lately are the posts specifically meant to help others combat blog-drought.

I have thought of two potentially excellent topics for essays this week, but they are both about plumbing the depths of my insecurity, and they are not at all funny, so they'll go somewhere that is not City Mouse Country.

So here are some of the boring and trivial things I have been thinking about this week. If you're also my Facebook friend, some of these things will sound familiar. But not all!

• There has been a Society for American Florists for 125 years. I also learned this week that its charter was signed by Grover Cleveland, and that it has its own chapter of the United States Code, 36 USCS § 200101 et seq.
• I think 17 minutes is just too long for a straight dance sequence in a movie, even if it's the most brilliant dance sequence in cinematic history, especially if it's not related to the plot and happens right before the end of the movie.
• My niece? Is still, like, crazy-cute. That is perhaps to be expected, as she is a baby, and her parents are both adorable, and I am very biased.
  
• Baby head smell, which captivates everyone, apparently, has no magic powers over me.
• My blog robot name is B.Z.Z.Z.Z.G.R.R.R.L.: Biomechanical Zeta Zombie Zoned for Zealous Gratification, Rational Repair and Relentless Learning. Which, right? I'm not sure how I feel about the zombieness, but I am all for zealous gratification, rational repair and relentless learning
• I found out that all this time I've been trying to remember who went to that one concert with me? It was Duana.
• Weekly 25¢ ice cream is the greatest thing a place of employment can do for its employees. It builds community, and is also delicious.
  
• Starting this weekend, I will have a roommate for the first time since summer 2000. It's only for about five weeks, but still, it'll be interesting. Expect posts about that.

So, here's your job: What do you wish I would post about? That's how I'm going to get past any potential droughts. You're going to be your delightful and bossy selves. What do you people want from me?

Three things you should read on the Internet

(For Whimsy's Three for Friday):

• iPhone Cinema from I Blame The Patriarchy (and the followup)
• 15 Creepiest Vintage Ads of All Time from Retro Comedy
• In fact, I have her edit my posts from dooce

Have fun, kids.

Wait, what?

My parents are priests. Have I mentioned that before? Anyway, they are.

So there was something extra-special about this post for me, which may be the greatest thing I have read all week (except for what you wrote, of course. You are my special favorite.).

I love my parents very much, but did not know that one of the things I have to be grateful for is that they have never asked me to keep a giant porn collection safe while they went on vacation. I am grateful for that, indeed.

Clotheslined

This progression to country mouseness is a gradual one. At some point this June, I decided to let environmentalism and the weather justify temporary laziness. There is no earthly reason, I thought, to waste power drying clothes when I could just hang them out on the line.
Those of you who do not live in the Northeastern U.S. may not know that we had approximately a thousand days of rain up here. Therefore, I could not possibly do any laundry.
Eventually, I ran out of clothes, and did just one load with the dryer.
Then, like a miracle, it got sunny. The old joke up here is that New Hampshire has two seasons, winter and the Fourth of July, and boy howdy, did it feel true this Fourth. Glorious indeed.
So on the fifth, I did laundry, and brought it out to hang on the line.
But you know how, in the fabric-softener commercials, crisp white sheets and bright-colored shirts all snap in the breeze? Yeah, some of us separate our colors when we do laundry. And some of us, having been city mice, have a lot of dark clothing. So some of us now have the gothest-looking clothesline in the universe, right out there for all the neighbors to see, and, no doubt, mock.
"Now?" you say. "Why haven't you brought in your laundry from July 5 yet?"
Because obviously there have been enough soaking rainstorms since then that every dark piece of clothing I won has had enough opportunity to almost dry before getting soaked again, repeatedly.

Gender deconstructionism

It will surprise exactly none of you to know that the phrase "crying like a little girl" irritates me. For many, many reasons, which we can get into in the comments if anyone is interested. Which nobody is.
That said, I want to parse whether the phrase even makes any sense as anything other than sexism.
So, parents of (or folks with experience of) young children of either sex:

• Is it your experience that little girls are more likely to cry than little boys? Less likely? The same likely?
• Is it your experience that little girls are more likely to scream than little boys? Less likely? The same likely?
• If "more," is it your opinion that this is true before the heavy-duty socializing efforts occur? Like, before the child has friends who are capable of peer pressure, or adult role models who are enforcing gendered behavior?
• Is it your experience that when little girls do cry or scream, it is in a less-tough way than little boys?
• If so, before the child has friends who are capable of peer pressure, or adult role models who are enforcing gendered behavior?

Honestly interested in answers here; I'm not trying to be argumentative. Yet.

Seeing stars

If any of you readers are actually bloggers who get stuck from time to time (or if you're just bored on the Internet a lot), allow me to recommend Five Star Friday to you. People nominate great blog posts, and then those great blog posts all get sent out in one big roundup weekly.
I do not always have time to read them all, but I find that, when I do, I am almost always inspired to write more, and better.

You're so lucky I'm around

Although I watch a lot of DVDs (and now, thanks to Todd, Blu-rays), I am not generally a consumer of romantic comedies, for many reasons. I only rented Dan in Real Life because I didn't know that's what it was, and I am a sucker for both Steve Carell and advice columns.
But, having viewed it, I gotta say, I loved it.
Things I loved about Dan in Real Life:

• The cast. I was going to try to single people out, but it's a big cast, and a phenomenal one. Full of, "Oh, it's that guy!"
• Norbert Leo Butz. OK, I really wasn't going to single people out, but I have a soft spot for him, because I saw him on Broadway in Wicked, where he was delightful. He is also delightful in this film.
• The family dynamic. In some ways, this is a movie about a guy who feels left out of his own family, kind of. I discovered from the special features that the rest of the cast had a week of rehearsal without Steve Carell. It works.
• The line, "You are a murderer of love!" You think that might be the best line ever, certainly the best line possible in this film, and then, a few minutes later, it comes up again, better.
• My own reexamination of "Let My Love Open the Door." God, what a perfect song. Go listen to it right now.

Baby love

My sister had her baby late Tuesday. Which is pretty awesome. She is my first niece, my parents' first grandchild, both her parents' first child. She is amazing and perfect and tiny.

So amazing, in fact, that on Wednesday afternoon, as my parents and brother-in-law crowded around my sister and this stunning infant, my father proudly declared her to be the most beautiful baby he'd ever seen.

Someone (OK, I) pointed out that it would perhaps have been more tactful not to say that in the presence of the people who've grown out of the only other two newborns he's ever seen.*

Whatever, though. We all got what he meant.

(*- Realized in typing that that I can think of a fourth newborn he's known. Oh, well, glad to complete the circle of insult by sharing it here with Cousin Mouse.)

I scream, you scream

I did not grow up in a neighborhood with an ice cream truck.
Where we lived when I was in high school, the truck would come along once in a while. Its tune was weird to the point of creepy. I best approximated it by playing three different music boxes, all playing different songs, at the same time.
Then, no ice cream truck for nearly twenty years.
My current neighborhood has an ice cream truck, with discernible tunes, but again, they're weird. a friend once noted that it was playing the theme from Love Story. I was just impressed that she could identify the theme from Love Story, as she was born fifteen years after that movie came out. But she was right, and I've heard it play a number of other weird tunes since.
Tonight, I jotted down what I could make out as the truck made its rounds:

• "The Battle Hymn of the Republic"
• "Deck the Halls"
• "Clementine"