WebMD is the devil.



If you’re a hypochondriac like me, websites like WebMD are dangerous, dangerous things. It’s something about myself I hate, something I wish I could change, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to do it. Every time I get a headache, a twinge or ache somewhere, or something happens that either hasn’t happened before or hasn’t happened in a while, I freak out because I don’t like things that are out of the ordinary. I’m pretty sure it’s an inherited trait, because my uncle (my dad’s brother) is the same way. I don’t know if I’d go so far as to say it affects my quality of life, but I also don’t think it’s a very productive way to live, either. Are any of you hypochondriacs? Is it something you hate about yourself or have you learned to embrace it?


I’m my own woman.

Sometimes it’s difficult being unmarried and childless at 34, not necessarily because I wish I was married with a couple of kids, though sometimes…but rather because other people needle me on why I’m the childless spinster of the family, as though they had a bone to pick with me or something. I’ve never been particularly maternal, and I’ve never seen myself as a mother. I always thought that if it happened, great, and if it didn’t, well, that was great too. I don’t hate kids, I’m just not drawn to them the way some people are. I’m single because fat ugly cows with no self-esteem are not all that attractive to men, and since I don’t drink, I’m hardly going to plop myself down at some bar or club and wait for someone drunk enough to have significantly lowered standards to wander by. I don’t necessarily mind someone asking, but when the questions turn judgmental, as though I’ve made a mess of my life, that’s when I get pissed off. It’s okay to be curious, but it’s not okay to be an asshole about it.


Call it a lack of something else to say.

I have stared at the prompt for today for the last 18 minutes, unable to come up with something even halfway witty to say. So, in lieu of talking about “Conquer,” how about some early 60s doo-wop instead? The Voyage of Rock and Roll, a program I listen to on Sunday mornings, is featuring 1962 today, and this was one of the songs played. Every week is a different year up to about 1973 or 74 I believe, then it goes back to 1955. Enjoy. 😊

Rock the boat.

Donald Trump is a paranoid schizophrenic, ignorant, lying, worthless piece of shit.

Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, it’s funny how a statement like that isn’t controversial anymore. If someone had said that about Obama, Bush the Younger, Clinton, Bush the Elder, Reagan, etc., that person would have been called out as a monster, someone slandering and slurring the good name of the chief executive, no matter how you feel about their politics. In Trump’s case though, we’ve seen demonstrable proof that all of those things are accurate. He really is a paranoid schizophrenic. He believes he’s been wiretapped and that everyone is out to get him, he sees things that aren’t there, he hears things that aren’t being said. He really is ignorant. He has no idea how government functions, especially this one, and he has no idea who people are, what they do, or where anything is. He really is a liar. He lies all the fucking time. He really is a worthless piece of shit. Any man who brags about sexually assaulting women and barging into the dressing rooms of half-naked teenage girls is a worthless piece of shit, full stop.

Why is it controversial to say these things? Wouldn’t it be more controversial to say he’s really a lizard person from the planet Xenon 7?


The wearin’ o’ the green.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day! If you’re actually Irish, I hope you have a great day today. If you’re not Irish, why the %$@# are you celebrating? This ain’t yo day. Take off the shamrock glasses, put the Guinness down, and get back to work. Today is also Musical Interlude Friday, so I think a selection from The Irish Rovers would only be appropriate. Now, as for the prompt that’s also for today, I’ve never understood why the Irish were or are considered to be more lucky than any other group. Considering how they’ve been treated by people their whole lives, first by the English, then by people in the United States when famine forced them to emigrate, I wouldn’t consider them all that lucky.


Ooh, that brings me back.

When I was a teenager, way back in the 90s, particularly the late 90s, I was a HUGE MASSIVE OH MY GOD FOREVER fan of *NSYNC. You know, the “male vocal group” that gave us Justin Timberlake, the most beautiful man to ever walk the face the Earth. I put “male vocal group” in quotes because apparently members of the Backstreet Boys objected to being called a boy band because it was disrespectful or some such bullshit. No, you were boys, you were in a band, therefore you were a boy band. Moving away from semantics about what they were called, I was definitely all about that life back in the day. I was 18 when No Strings Attached came out, and I remember standing in line at the Best Buy at Harlem-Irving Plaza (aka The HIP), waiting to buy it. I think I played it 100 times in a row as soon as I got home. As with all things, as I grew up, my taste in music changed, and my love for *NSYNC faded to a pleasant memory, but every now and again, I’ll cue it up in iTunes and remember a time when I had a future in front of me that didn’t look bleak (like it does now, sadly), the President wasn’t an uneducated moron, and Justin Timberlake was single. Wait. He was dating Britney Spears back then. God damn it. Cross that one off.


Happy Pi Day!


I’ll take a piece of this, warm from the oven, with the biggest scoop of vanilla ice cream you’ve ever seen. Make it snappy.

Before I get into the prompt for today, I want to wish both math geeks and pastry aficionados a happy Pi Day. Pi Day is of course, celebrated on March 14, and really specifically on March 14 at 1:59:26 in the afternoon, as the first few digits of pi is 3.1415926. That’s as far out as I remember it going, but there are more than a billion digits in it, if I’ve read correctly. So, if you love math or you love pie, cut yourself a slice today.

Now, as for the prompt today — it reminded me of a comment my dad made about his paternal grandparents when they emigrated here from what is now Hungary, around the turn of the century. They were so excited to become Americans, they jumped wholeheartedly into the prospect. They didn’t change their names, as many people often did, but they taught themselves English in just a few months, a language that many people say is incredibly hard for non-speakers to learn. They did everything they saw their native-born neighbors doing, and within a couple of years, they barely had accents, and you’d never have known they weren’t born here themselves. I have nothing against immigrants coming here from other countries, be it Mexico or Madagascar, but if you’re going to live here, you need to immerse yourself in our culture. That means learn our language, first and foremost. You can keep speaking whatever they speak back home, but you need to learn English. No more living here 30 years and being unable to speak a coherent sentence. No more relying on your children or grandchildren to translate for you.  Oh, and before someone says something, no, that’s not racist/prejudiced/bigoted/xenophonic. That’s practical. If I move to Sweden, even though everyone in Europe basically speaks English better than most of us do, I would be expected to learn Swedish. It’s only right, and that goes for if you’re here legally or otherwise.


Vinyl is best.


I started my vinyl collection about 10 years ago. I started by making a list of albums I really wanted to own, researching what quality I was interested in, and about how much it would cost, then hit up eBay looking for them. I don’t have anywhere near the collection my dad has, but that’s because he started his record collection in 1963, when vinyl records were how you listened to music. There were no CDs or mp3s back then. There’s something about pulling the album out of the inner sleeve, placing it on the turntable, then lifting the arm to drop the needle (ahem, stylus) on it. That warm, crackling, full sound…you can’t beat it. I’m sure audiophiles will stamp their feet and scream that digital is best, and for portability and travel, you can’t beat it. However, if I’m in my house wanting to listen to music, I put the iPod down and pick up The Dark Side of the Moon or Zep IV or Kind of Blue. On vinyl.


Why is this still a thing?


daylight savings 2017


Every year, twice a year, we fuck with our clocks. First you spring forward, then you fall back, a cute little motto to help you remember when to do what. The only problem is…there’s no good reason to continue doing it. It originated during WWI as a fuel-saving measure, but in 2017, energy consumption is a lot more complex than chopping wood or burning coal. Whatever minuscule benefits existed in 1917, they don’t exist now, and now is when we’re living. It just seems utterly pointless. Sure, it’s nice to have it be lighter later in the day, but unless you spend all day, every day working outside, just turn on a goddamn lamp.