Sweater Dresses Over Jeans Rule (Day 15)

I'm wearing a sweater dress over my jeans and I think it's unleashed my hidden super powers. True. I taught a class today and I was the fake butter flavored oil to their popcorn. I had them at go. I was the bee's hairy knees. Some of them stayed afterwards for my digits. Alright...

As for my day, I am guzzling watered-down Diet Coke like it's going out of style. Um, yeah. I got a Big Gulp on my way to work (I only get to have Starbucks on the weekends, new rule) and I totally downed it. If I could, I'd swim in a pool filled with Diet Coke, drink my way to the bottom. I am a Diet Coke head and lovin' it.

There's a student posting a really nice homemade poster about Maya Angelo and Africa and I like it so much I'm going to let him (I don't think they are supposed to post signs on our glass doors). What the heck. I'm a renegade. I'm on the loose.

I slapped together a big salad for lunch today and three bites into the mayo/pasta salad I bit into a mayo-coated effin' BACON cube! What did I say yesterday? They put bacon in everything, ab-so-lute-ly everything here. Poor piggies, leave them alone.

Lyrics on constant play in my head right now:
Yo, where’s the movie playin’?
Upper west side, dude.
Well, let’s hit up Yahoo Maps to find the dopest route.
I prefer Map Quest.
That’s a good one, too.
Google Maps is the best.
True that.
DOUBLE TRUE.

I'm hot for Andy Samberg.

I'm at the desk and a student is eyeing me, like they want to ask me a question or somethin'.

Quote for the Day: That's what I love about these high school girls, man. I get older and they stay the same age.~David Wooderson


Link for the day: http://www.thelonelyisland.com/

The Men I Lusted After in the Early 80's (Day 16)

I had this here Duran Duran (or D2, as me and my oh-so-clever friends called them) hanging in my bedroom in "the day." Not to mention all the other Teen Beat pinups of the above "hot" guys. Um, er, okay. What was my fascination with very pretty boys? (And by pretty I don't mean it in a good way.) The 80's were embarassing. Truly.

You know what I did over lunch today? Do ya? Do ya? First I went to the big, scary Brookings Police Dept and then to the Court House. Oh, and I got lost finding both buildings even though this town you can practically see from one end to the other no prob.

Here's the dealio Emilio: in classic Danielle form I waited until the absolute, no contest, without a shadow of a doubt last moment to pay my effin' $90.00 speeding ticket. I could say it was a small act of protest against the Brookings Police who I swear to Gawd are tailing me, just waiting for me to eff-up driving. Since I got the new car I've not had one speeding ticket between Brookings and Sioux Falls, thanks to the genius invention: Cruise Control. I think I got five speeding tickets, maybe more, since I moved out here on that jaunt. Instead, they bust me speeding in Brookings where using my cruise is virtually impossible. I was going 52 in a 30 and they nabbed me. I got all girly on his ass and made my best fake-cry face and told him all about my divorce and how expensive it is and could he please, purty please, push my fine date out. He did, almost two months, actually. Not good enough for me though so I blow it off. Totally. Then I get this nasty, threatening letter in the mail saying I must, I must, I simply must pay the ticket in 28 days or else. I blew that off too. Until today. I sucked it up and paid the mutha, brutha, but not with joy in my heart. But, I did get to meet this gnarly babe at the Police Dept window. Let me describe: picture a woman whose age is undetermined because 1) her hair is so fried it actually looks like cotton, 2) her skin is darker than that ugly Coach belt I adored in 1996, 3) blue eyeshadow in a smelly (you know what I'm talking about) blue shade, 4) a man voice. Distracting. She had to explain the directions to the courthouse three times because all I could do is stare.

Here's what I wonder (and lord help me that this doesn't happen to me) do some people hit their peak at a certain time in their lives. Like for this cop-admin-woman it would've been, say 1979, and then their fashion freezes, on the spot? A real cartoon moment. They just keep Aqua-netting and curling and wiping the Maybellene all over their pusses? Why doesn't someone grab them and shake them, like they do in old movies, saying something like this: "Come on Woman! Snap out of it!" and then maybe slap them too, real hard-like. Someone should.

The many uses of my soon-to-be discarded boxes of business cards: 1) clean that yucky lint from under my stunningly beautiful finger nails, 2) pick food bits out of my teeth after lunch (you know you do it too, don't deny), 3) clean the lint/food crumbs/eraser shavings from between the keys on my two computer keyboards, 4) place firmly between thumb and forefinger and flick your co-workers, 5) construct a house of cards.

Irritant of the day: some who-ha nominated me to be in charge of the money for the social committee for last month, this month and part of next sooooo of course, I have zero interest in actually doing any real work. I think it's lame that I couldn't protest against this unwanted appointment. Yet, someone else on the committee bought coffee and came shuffling up to me today, right as I got in, demanding her measly $20. Um, er, I just got in, see my coat is still on? Settle down already, you'll get your green lady, just let me be. BTW, I still have not paid her (hee-hee).

Fun Fact of the Day: Had I not paid that ticket today, there would've been a warrant out for my arrest and they would've suspended my license. Let that be a lesson to you kids. I could've been all Britney, driving without my license. But once you pay, they reinstate. Ew, scary.

I'm Smitten (Day 17)

I did it. I'm responsible. I made my once-adorable puppy fugly. She's pissed at me too, I can tell. She watched in the mirror as her long tresses were woefully snipped from her face and she knew what I was up to. I mistakenly thought it'd be funny, cute even and boy was I wrong. She's so cold now she has to wear her funky sweatshirt indoors otherwise she shivers. WTF was I thinking? I dunno, I shave my Persian and he feels better and looks cool, now my dog looks like a pig.

When I was driving to work today something on the other side of the freeway caught my eye. Someone backed a white truck up as close to the freeway as possible and on the back sliding door of the truck was the assertion "I'm Smitten!!!" spray painted in red. They just drove this truck into their cornfield, backed it up for all the world to see. That is one thing I like about living out here, sometimes you see the strangest things in cornfields. For example, I had to drive to Mitchell last Spring for a conference (that's in SoDak kids) and along that drive I stumpled upon several examples of farmer's art. What is farmer's art, you ask? It's when farmers assemble odd objects into narrative structures. There were bunnies made of old mechanical parts. There were daisies shaped out of car parts and wire, there were figures of men assembled of tires and machinery. Do these guys have mucho tiempo on their hands or are they mad artistic geniuses? You decide.

Then, when I finally got to Mitchell I was excited to see their famed Corn Palace (the road signs say it's an actual palace made of corn). It was a sorry disappointment. What they call a Corn Palace, I call a structure with corn glued to the exterior and on the interior is nothing but a gym, you know, the place those crazy kids hold proms and basketball games. Thanks for the false adverstising ya scammers.

Gimme a Diet Coke right away in the morning. Couple that with a large coffee and damn, I am flying, so twitchy I can barely type. I thought I was a warrior against caffeine but damn, I am wrong-o.

Vibe of the day: so far cool as cucumber.

Lyric of the day: "so if you wanna burn yourself remember that I LOVE YOU
and if you wanna cut yourself remember that I LOVE YOU
and if you wanna kill yourself remember that I LOVE YOU
call me up before your dead, we can make some plans instead
send me an IM, i'll be your friend" (Kimya Dawson, "Loose Lips")

I started out the day petting my Persian (his name is Sid Vicious) and he drooled on my arm. A big wet, juicy drop. Top that.

Hit the Road Jack and Don't You Come Back No More (day 18)

I'm at the reference desk avidly reading exciting all about libraries articles when a student IM-ed me. He was in full freak-out mode having accidentally (how, I ask) deleting the six page paper that is due at 10am manana. He discovered (the hard way) that the trash bins on the public computers are disabled. He's somewhere in the library, right now, having a full-blown meltdown and my crusted-over heart feels for him. Been there. Done that.

On another note, I had a flaming incident. Let me tell you the effin' story: Yesterday Gawd decided to hawk evil ice loogies all over the damn place. Not cool. Instead of tempting fate and driving to work, I took for granted my Charlie Brown existence and stayed home. Since I had a class to teach in Sioux Falls, I just spent the day answering emails, organizing my computer files and listening to iTuned episodes of "Grey's Anatomy" (Yes, I've become one of those) Now, this part of the story speaks to my distracted nature lately, I entered the wrong desk hours into my Blackberry, I was supposed to work 3-5 yesterday. Like a silly little bunny, I trusted my Blackberry over all others and got into a bit of a tiff, shall we say, with a not-so-forgiving co-worker. The rub: who died and made you the lord god ruler of the reference desk, I so wanted to say, but thought better of it. What happened? I got hit with two angry-as-hell emails from said co-worker. Now, not that this sort of thing hasn't happened before, but seriously, MISTAKES HAPPEN. Shesh.

Watch me as I spin on my heels, turn around and walk away. For goot (as my Grandmother used to pronounce the word good).

SoDak Speak: Yes means No. No means yes. Dinner means lunch. Warsh means wash. Supper means dinner. Warshing means washing. Acrost means across. Hot dish means most coveted food staple. Sending flaming emails means confrontation. "I says" means "I said." Interstate means all freeways and interstates, never, ever use the name of said roadway as they are all unified.

Catch phrase of the day: "Whatchoo talkin' bout Willis?"

Awkward moment of the day: running into my socially challenged neighbor who has asked me out countless times and/or compliments my outfit (???). The interaction went something like this: he sees me as I am walking out the door, he stops. Neighbor: Um, you must be all packed-up and ready to go by now, huh? Me: Nope, not at all. (Giant pause. He stands there, arms restlessly swinging by his sides.) Neighbor: Oh, uh, mmm, okay. Me: Alright, take care. I want to say, in my best Tom Cruise impression: "You Pain Me."

Geeky Link of the day: http://www.librarian-image.net/

Welcome Back, Becker (Day 22)

Welcome back,
Your dreams were your ticket out.

Welcome back,
To that same old place that you laughed about.

Well the names have all changed since you hung around,
But those dreams have remained and they're turned around.

Who'd have thought they'd lead ya (Who'd have thought they'd lead ya)
Here where we need ya (Here where we need ya)

Yeah we tease him a lot cause we've hot him on the spot, welcome back,
Welcome back, welcome back, welcome back.
(Welcome Back by John Sebastian - Welcome Back Kotter Lyrics)

Did you miss me? Did ya? Did ya? Nah, you're lyin'. Well, I'll take whatever measely compliment I can get.

I've been here, there, and everywhere and let's just leave it at that...k? That stuff I've been up to lately isn't exactly blog-postable as I try not to get all that personal with y'all (insert greasy Brittany image here). But I will say that I learned one very important thing in my most recent travels (okay, I went to Mpls, then to St. Louis, then back to Mpls for a spell) and that is that I have to stop looking backwards and concentrate on the future. Also, I need to keep in better touch with my friends.

There you have it.

I returned on Monday after a terrifying three hour drive from Worthingon, where I had to spend the night because the drive from Mpls to Worthington was evil hell. This time I really tried to approach the drive with a can-do attitude, but the interstate (or, if you're from SoDak you say it like this, "I tried to drive interstate" not THE interstate or THE freeway) handed my arse to me. It was all like, "you are NOT driving on me today" and I was all like "yeah I am" and it was all like "here's some wind to push your tiny Honda around" and I was all like "I'll grab my steering wheel so hard my hands sweat and cramp, yo." Well, you get the picture.

Work has been somewhat entertaining. I feel that shift that happens when your co-workers see you are clock-watching your final days. People are getting bold, mouthy even. When I came in late today (um, in meetings with HR, etc) one of my colleagues blurted out (and if you are reading this, I mean this lovingly) "Just come in whenever you want" or something like that. This made me laugh because I must admit, I love it when people don't hold back and say exactly what is on their minds. Exactly. It's refreshing.

Like at lunch today, I shuffled into the break room to heat-up my remaining soup and there was a table of people lunching together and chatting. I'm not one to take much of a lunch, normally I like to work through lunch (thus allowing me a little time here and there to write in this here blog) so I stood waiting for my soup and overheard the most titilating conversation. It went something like this, "Yeah, I went to buy some (insert boring hardware store item here) and I leaned over and noticed that right next to me they had it on sale for...." the rest, nope, I cannot remember it. What was said wasn't important, what is important is the people at the table looked painfully bored by the story.

Don't get me wrong, not every story needs to include a learned universal truth or an epiphany or anything heavy. But does anyone really want to hear about a trip you took to the grocery store or to (GODFORBIDIT) Walmart? Do they? Seriously? Furthermore, is that really what impacted you yesterday, so much so that you need to talk about it? It's what I consider "filler" conversation, something to fill the space between us. I am not a fan of filler conversation, not at all.

Dang, I just bored myself with that one.

Off to the races, inspiration is fleeting for me to day.

Song lyric in my head today, "Trying to make me go to rehab and I said, no, no, no..."

Razor, Goodbye and Good Riddance (Day 36)

NO, I have not become one of those people that jumps on the latest and greatest thingy. I'm the grumpy old lady that waited years before I got a cell phone, even. My hand was forced as one year I got four (!) flat tires in one winter and discovered, the hard way, that payphones don't exist in Minneapolis anymore and if a rare one pops up, it is usually in a scetchy area that you wouldn't send your worst enemy to. Lately my Razor has been annoying me (sometimes stupid crap annoys me), not comfortable, lame interface, that I said I'd replace it with something else when the time came. Then, this morning, after I taught a distance class I was gassing-up my car and went to turn on my cell phone (when driving in the praire one needs to be fully-armed with a cell phone in the event of an accident, which for me, is a reality) the piece-o-pink-metal-plastic-crap wouldn't do it's thing. It just sat there, mute. I don't know why I'm like this, but I just keep on pressing its spiteful red button and it laid dead in my palm.

CRAP!

Off I went to Verizon, one of my least favorite places in the world (second only to the OBGYN). It's such a scam. They lock you into these contracts that feel like you'll end-up in debtors prison if you miss even one payment. Luckily, I got the "General Manager" (who had the skinniest fingees I've ever laid my bulging peepers on) who was wearing a bright pink sweater set and had died yellow hair, but nice. I told her my emergency (in my saucy way) and within seconds she popped the back off of my phone and revealed the evil red dot. "Um, this dot means your phone got wet," she said, nicely. I replied, "Nuh uh" (smooth, I know) "It did not, seriously." "I don't know what to say," she said, "but this red dot means not only did it get wet, but it got really wet, like submerged in water." Okay, now, I was serious when I said I didn't get this thing wet. True, my last razor fell into the toidee (won't get into it here) and I fished it out (post flush, of course) and I fully admitted to that one. But this time, no way Jose, I didn't play dunk-the-cellphone with my pink nightmare. The dot doesn't lie, I guess. Yet, I wonder, maybe the dot is a scam, maybe it's heat activated and in time turns red. That way, when their cheap phones punk-out they sqeeze more money out of us saps. Nightline should do an investigation.

So why replace it with a Blackberry? Don't get me wrong, here, I had been thinking about obtaining such a device for my sojourn back to the big, bad city, I had just planned on doing it after I moved. But Verizon had me on a 2-year contract ending in November and my cancellation fee was close to 200 clams so it was eat or be eaten. PLUS, I am so tired of lugging my old-school Franklin Planner to and fro. This way, I can synk my calendar at work and keep the Franklin at work for my notes and stuff. It also turns out there was a nice, tidy rebate sum as well as a decent package (I always go over in texting). AND, should I be above ground I can check work emails and the like.

So I did it. I took the plunge. I am supposed to be technology girl anyway, it's about time I get out of the 90's and into eletronic calendaring. The interface rocks, looks good, sharp, bright, easy-to-use, all things my Razor was not. Oh, and did I mention, it's cute?

When I master the bad-boy, I'll update y'all. Until then, check out this cool website: http://lifehacker.com/

**UPDATE ON DOG-BARKING NEIGHBOR DISPUTE**
Being the Bulldog that I sometimes am paid-off. The downstairs neighbor guy who flamed me on my doggie replied to my reply with a comment that went something like this, Yeah, your dog has been getting better, it just caught me on a bad day as I'd just gotten home from a trip. An apology...could it be? NOPE. No sireee. He just started complaining about the building and pinned his desire to leave more on the dust and neighboring train yard than anything else. Perhaps I throw a going-away party for him? What do you think?

More Useful Links

Find out if sickness is running rampant in your neighborhood or office:
http://whoissick.org/sickness

Collect headlines on a single topic (Politics): Memeorandum http://www.memeorandum.com
(Social News)Spin Thicket http://www.spinthicket.com

Scrapbooking in a blog format: Scrapblog http://www.scrapblog.com

Article on Podcasting tips (see "Podcasting Toolbox"): http://mashable.com/2007/07/04/

Article on Productive Uses for a Wiki: http://webworkerdaily.com/2007/07/13/1

Teach Yourself to Use Web 2.0: http://plcmcl2-things.blogspot.com

E-Learning Link of the day: http://janeknight.typepad.com/pick

Technology Resources for Librarians: http://stephenslighthouse.sirsidynix.com

Microblogging (Twitter, Jaiku, etc): http://libraryclips.blogsome.com/2008/02/05/how-i-use-the-various-micro-blogging-services/


MY TUMBLR PAGE: shutmeupwithmilk.tumblr.com

Hit the Road, Jack (Day 38 (I changed my last day) and Counting)

The great fight between me and the passive/aggressive JHOLE that lives below me rages on. Consider it round 2. He wrote me the following email yesterday:

Danielle:

Hi! The barking situation hasn't seemed to improve, as your dog is yipping non stop this morning and its before 7am. I have not talked to the landlord again, as I respect your wishes on dealing with this amongst ourselves. I am gone for a week starting today. Please let me know how you plan to resolve this when I return. I will talk to the landlord again if need be, and frankly, am going to give them my notice when the contract expires this spring. I have lots of reasons for wanting to move, but the barking is at the top of the list.

John

OKAY, my side. First of all, the dog is in daycare 3-4 times a week so saying that the "barking situation" hasn't improved is a flat-out-lie. Yes, going to work one day early, ONE FRIGGIN DAY, and he flips out. I normally wait, seriously, to go in until after 8am as I know this guy gets up at 8am.

Now, remember, this is the guy that a month after I moved-in called the landlord because I was "repeatedly slamming doors and yelling at all hours of the day/night." NOT TRUE, one morning, yes, it was early, I was getting ready for work and my former (RIP) dog Lady peed on the suit I had just put on. I flipped-out because the pee ran off of my lap and onto my bed. I had to wash the comforter cover, but I was supposed to be into work way early that day (teaching a class) and barely made it in. So yes, I slammed one door and said, "Dammit Lady" and that was it.

Now, dear imaginary reader, I have this to ask you (do weigh in, if so desired) if you move into a known dog building with zero restrictions (no size restrictions, etc) do you or do you not have to accept a certain amount of dog-related things. Such as, pee on the snow in the back lot, bags of poo in dumpsters, dogs around, dogs sometimes barking. If you don't like it, then I suggest...

(Hit the road Jack and don't you come back no more, no more, no more, no more.)
(Hit the road Jack and don't you come back no more.)
What you say?
(Hit the road Jack and don't you come back no more, no more, no more, no more.)
(Hit the road Jack and don't you come back no more.)

*EDITORS NOTE*
I responded to the guy basically what I wrote above, minus the Ray Charles lyrics, of course. I utilized my talent for sarcasm to the fullest.
Also, I have recorded my puppy after I leave and she barks for maybe, just maybe five minutes and then she goes to sleep.