Apparently...

... today is I Am Under the Delusion That Gert is My Bitch Day

a.k.a. Gert is Still Grouchy and Trying Not to Take it Out on Others Even if They Totally Deserve it Day.


Conversation #1:

Man who normally works from home for the organization that I share office space with, but who happens to be in the office today, saunters directly into my office - without even pausing at the doorway to see if I am in the middle of something - and waves a piece of paper at me.

Man: "Hey - do you have a way to make a copy of this for me?"

Me: "Oh, is the copier not working?"

Man: "Oh. Uh. I don't know where it is."

Me: "Hmmm. The kitchen."

Me to myself : "You know, the room you just walked past with the giant copier in it to get to my office?"



Conversation #2:

Woman I work with. (Not FOR. WITH).: "Do you have a better version of this map that I can use in my presentation?"

Me: "No, I don't. I'm sorry."

Woman: "Is there any way you could you find one?"

Me: "I can maybe find one on the internet."

Me to myself: "With my Super Secret Interwebs Sleuthing Device called GOOGLE!"

Woman: "Oh, that would be great. Thaaaanks."

Me (30 seconds later): "Here you go. Would one of these work?"

Woman: "Yes. Can you make a replacement slide for me? Thaaaanks."

Me: "Uh. Huh."

Me to myself: "You mean, can I click 'copy' and then 'paste'? I don't know... hey lookiethere I totally can... Amazing. Good - I was hoping to add a new skill to my resume this week. Thaaaanks."


GAH! I'm going home to soak my head in a vat of vitamin C.

A photo. And then a little rant. Because allergy meds make me grouchy.

Big moon over my front yard. It was a photo-worthy moment - even if the picture didn't turn out so well.

It was uploaded and posted whilst watching President Obama's press conference.

Now, Barack, you know I love you man, but when I don't feel well, please don't talk through How I Met Your Mother. I wouldn't have minded if this had all been quality time we'd just spent, but you took a question from someone at Huffington Post. I mean, I'm sure he's a legitimate reporter and all, but in the grand scheme of things I just don't know that it was necessary.

And Maura from NPR - cut to the chase, sister. I know you're excited to have a president who finally takes questions from the press, but you don't have to ask all of them today. He's going to be here for four years.

And seriously, dude from the Washington Post, newsflash: you're from the WASHINGTON POST. Our economy is in the toilet, no one can be civil long enough to even try to do something about it, and you asked the PRESIDENT about A-Rod's confession of steroid use?! Seriously. Sit. Down.

And press secretary guy - whose name I don't remember at the moment - personally I find you endearing, but we all know these things are at least somewhat orchestrated and this is the best you can do? Give a girl a break. Neil Patrick Harris is waiting and I repeat: I. Do. Not. Feel. Well.

Week in Review

1. Coughing up a lung or two
I'm experiencing some pre-springtime allergy issues. Constant scratchy throat for a week and now it's all in my chest and I'm all raspy sounding. I wish I sounded like Demi Moore - or even Rachel Ray - but it's a sound much more akin to Peppermint Patty. Adding to the fun is the continuous drama of our 80's era office park. They've been "working" on our decrepit heating system since before Christmas. Supposedly it's "fixed." However - the temperature in my office this past week: Monday - 80 degrees. Tuesday and Wednesday - 50 degrees. Thursday and Friday - 80 degrees. Needless to say, it's not helping the congestion. So, I'm home for at least the first half of the day. Right now I'm listening to a discussion about the mother of the octuplets on The View. Easy-bake oven office is sounding better by the minute.

2. Movies
I was hoping to get around to seeing at least a good chunk of the Oscar nominees before we find out who won what. Last Sunday I went to see Slumdog Millionaire. It's really good. This Sunday I went to see He's Just Not That Into You. OK. So, not really on the Oscar watch list. It was amusing. I do love me some Ben Affleck though. He was pretty dreamy in this movie but not in it nearly enough.

3. RIP
My two favorite-est magazines in the entire world have folded: Domino and Cottage Living. They were always full of colorful and interesting ideas for the home - real, tiny-to-normal-sized, homes. Their aesthetics were quite different from one another but provided the perfect combination of simplistic/traditional/antique and off-beat/urban/modern that exists in my house (or at least how I want it to exist). Domino was born from the pages of Lucky magazine and Cottage Living from the conglomerate that is Southern and Coastal Living magazines. From what I can tell, I'm genetically and culturally obligated to read Southern Living every month until I die (pronounced with two syllables). The problem with it though is that the homes they feature are enormous and rather beige so I am hoping that it will absorb some of the ideas from Cottage Living. We'll see I guess. I know they're just magazines. Pages of glossy, non-environmentally friendly paper. And I know that in this economy there are more important businesses to fret about. But it's just sad.

4. Dinner conversation
I found myself almost dead center of the long table of people I eat with on Friday nights. The discussions on either side of me were lively and varied and I was enjoying switching back and forth listening to one end of the table and then the other. At one point though I found myself simultaneously in - what I quickly figured out were - two very different conversations.

Guy to my right: "I don't think I would enjoy having a uterus."

Guy to my left: "You can usually find them on EBay."

Turns out the conversation on my left was about antique china. The other was not.


5. Everything I've wanted to say
My crush on Seth Meyer grows. His "Really!?! with Seth" bit on SNL Weekend Update Saturday was a perfect commentary on the whole Michael Phelps drama. Genius.

Grand.

Go Pat!

GO LADY VOLS!

Snakes on a Plane(t)

Apparently the threat of climate change is still way on the back burner of our collective concern. Survey results I heard mentioned in the news yesterday said that it was at the bottom of the list of priorities with most people. Understandably there are things like war and the economy that are weighing on people's minds lately - but let's be truthful - concern for who will be our next American Idol probably scored much higher than the people at Pew would lead us to believe.

And I don't know how much hope I have that climate change will ever be a big concern for people. We are currently in a giant "green" trend lately and climate change isn't catching on. The looming threat of drowning polar bears doesn't even seem to be getting the job done either. And you know how much we love the polar bears. Almost as much as American Idol.

I think a new tactic is needed. If cute won't get us to pay attention then cute needs to be replaced with fear. We respond to fear. Not real, could-actually-happen fear - like more severe and frequent weather events, or water scarcity, or crop elimination. No, no. We scoff at that kind of fear. For us, the more irrational and kooky the better.

Our new administration is reportedly going to dial back the fear mongering AND use of the grammatically inappropriate phrase "War on Terror." This means that soon there is going to be a scare-tactic void to be filled and I say climate change is the perfect candidate. And the first order of business should be to get a new mascot.

So, if it were up to me...

This guy:

Totally fired.

(It's okay, really, I'm sure those penguins from that Coke commercial will save him. He'll be fine...)

Your new climate change spokesmodel? This guy.

That's right. Gigantic. Scary-assed. Snake. The fossil remains of an enormous snake have been discovered who existed sometime after the dinosaurs and who grew to oh, about 40 feet long, weighed more than a ton and snacked on crocodiles.

How can a giant extinct snake be either relative OR scary as far as climate change is concerned, you ask? Well... turns out that in order for a cold-blooded creature to be able to grow to and survive at that size, it's environment had to be really hot all the time. Hotter than they ever thought the tropics could get. As hot as the tropics could quite possibly get again if we don't start paying attention. And if it's going to get hotter there, then it's also going to get hotter here, and I don't know about you, but I for one am just fine with the current size of the occasional friendly neighborhood garter snake I find in my yard that still manages to scare the crap out of me.

So there you go. The real threat of famine and drought aren't frightening enough to get us to change to compact florescents or stop wasting gas? Fine. Whatever.

How about the chance that reptiles might grow to be the size of a school bus? Better? I thought so.

And really, when it's put that way the choice is so much more simple, don't you think?

This:

Or this:

Seriously, people. Change your f*cking lightbulbs.

Cultural Differences

Today is the 50th anniversary of the plane crash that killed Buddy Holly, The Big Bopper, and Ritchie Valens. Very sad.

Less sad, however, was a conversation that took place 40 some-odd years later between Gert and her (now former) Irish boyfriend:

Gert calls for boy several times from the kitchen and gets no response. Gert finds boy sitting on the couch too engrossed in a movie to either hear or answer her.

Gert glances annoyingly over at the television: "What are you watc --- is that Lou Diamond Phillips?!"

Boy: stares at TV

Gert quickly runs through list of movies in her head that contain Lou Diamond Phillips then looks at boy with furrowed brow and more annoyance: "La Bamba? Seriously. You can't answer me because you're watching La Bamba?"

Boy: "Shhh. I love this movie."

Gert with brow more furrowed: "You've seen it before?"

Boy: "Yeah. A couple of times. Haven't you? It's really good."

Gert: "Really?"

Boy: "Yeah. But it's almost to the end and it'll just ruin it if you've never seen it all the way through before."

Gert: "They die in a plane crash."

Boy with furrowed brow: "You said you haven't seen it!"

Gert whispering facetiously: "It's a true story."

Boy with pitiful heartbroken look on face: "What? Really? No way!"

Gert sweetly shaking her head and trying hard not to giggle and/or mock: "Yes. It is. I'm sorry."

Boy with even more pitiful, heartbroken look on face: "I can't believe it. That's so sad. I don't think I can watch anymore."

Gert suddenly feeling guilty and now rummaging through basket of movies: "I know... I'm really sorry... Here... why don't you watch The Commitments again instead... They're Irish AND no one dies..."

In honor of Dick Clark's next birthday (whenever that may be) I'll tell you about the time he discovered that the Dick Clark in the restaurant chain, "Dick Clark's American Diner," was really THE Dick Clark and that they were, in fact, really owned by him. "Yes, THE Dick Clark.... Yes, the American Bandstand guy.... Yes, the New Year's show guy... No, I'm not making it up... Yes, really, the real Dick Clark..."

Number One. Thousand.

This week there's a pretty good chance that Pat Summitt will win her 1,000th game, bringing her record to 1,000 wins and only 186 (or 7 or 8) losses. The first opportunity is tonight at Oklahoma and the next is Thursday in Knoxville against Georgia.

Just like with her 800th and 900th wins, the critics, cynics, chauvinists, and general whiners, will start to kvetch and say that her 1,000 wins aren't the same as if a men's coach did it because there isn't the same level of parity in women's basketball that there is in men's basketball. True. And that she was only able to achieve this number of wins because she started coaching at 22 and men's coaching is too competitive for any of them to be able to start coaching at such a young age. Also maybe true.

I don't deny that these are things to consider. I just think maybe they should also consider that there is another side to this coin. That maybe there are other obstacles and other factors that some of the greatest in men's basketball coaching never had to deal with and/or probably aren't willing to do.

Because you know what else is true?

Pat Summit's starting salary was $8,900 a year. For that pay, in addition to coaching the team, her job included making flyers and posting them around campus to get people to attend the games, doing the team's laundry, and driving the van.

She went into labor while in another state recruiting a player (Pennsylvania, I believe). She got back on the plane and flew home so that her son, Tyler, would be born in Tennessee. Two weeks later she and Tyler were back on the plane on another recruiting trip.

Last year, to support the men's team in their game against Florida, she dressed up as a cheerleader and performed at halftime.

She even carpools to work.

There are a lot of other facts and figures that could be tossed about regarding game attendance, season ticket sales or championships won. Or that 65 of the current coaches in women's college and professional basketball are former Lady Vol coaches and players. Or that until this past year the highest-rated sporting event on ESPN was UT vs. UCONN for the 2004 national championship. But I'm sure they could all be countered with some wise-ass opinion inevitably arguing the superiority of men's coaches.

Fine.

But until I see Coach K or Bobby Knight in a cheerleading outfit - they can keep their opinions to themselves.

Good luck Coach Summitt.

Go Lady Vols!