Fine. Yes. My Mother Was a Welcome Wagon Lady.

Hamster Hater had me befriend him on FB so he could make 100% sure that his 15-year-old daughter truly had her privacy setting on "only friends."  I assured him that I could not see a single thing about her other than her profile (shockingly boring) and the thumbnail pic (my god, how I wish I had sculpted eyebrows like that at 15).


Normally I wouldn't do something like this but since she was already friends with her father, I didn't see the harm.  If she doesn't want him to know something, she'll just put him on a filter that's even stricter.  He did not seem to enjoy that thought, but feels that his daughter probably is not as conniving as me.  Poor HH would not have been able to handle my 15-year-old self.  Nothing like sex in the back seat of a wanna-be Cadillac Pontiac Grande Prix to bring a smile to your father's face.  Right?

He went on to explain that he was worried that she was posting pics of herself in a bikini for the whole internet to see.  He frowned when I started laughing:

Grumples: You guys go to the lake almost every weekend in the summer right?
HH: Yes.
Grumples: Does she wear a bikini when she is out on the lake with you?
HH: Yes.
Grumples: Are there other people at the lake?
HH: Yes.
Grumples: Strangers?
HH: Yes.
Grumples: So why can't the world see her in a bikini online, when they can see her just fine on the lake?
HH: (Stuttering) Uh, because I can't control who sees her picture online.
Grumples: And you can at the lake?
HH: Well, no.  But I am there with her at the lake.
Grumples: Um, HH, do you think you have been with your daughter every time she happens to be in  her bikini?
HH: No.
HH: Okay, you've made a very good point.

[Exit right]

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Twit received some bad news.  The plan was her to have a lumpectomy and radiation.  Seems the cancer is more pervasive and chemo is now on the menu.  I don't know when she is going on leave, but she wasn't at work today since she was meeting with all her surgeons.  There are all these old ladies at work who keep going up to her desk and having these intense, whispered conversations with Twit.  It's a bit unnerving, until  I realize that the old ladies are not trying to talk to me.  I still have so many mixed feelings about this situation.  Obviously I need to spend more time with my therapist on this matter.


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I need to submit a new analogy question to the SAT board (do they still do analogies?).  The question is possibly for a more progressive audience, and may not work with all these weirdly conservative kids in their short-shorts and promise rings.

Birth control:renting as Sterilization:____?

Oh, oh, I know!  I'm waiving my hand above my head and jittering my ass across the hard seat of the desk, and I so desperately want the teacher to notice me.  Totally people.  Why is it taking you so long to answer?  It is so obvious!  Birth control is like renting, thus, sterilization is like buying a house!  Where's the Welcome Wagon Lady already?  No one has come to introduce me to the neighborhood.  And I really wanted that basket of cheap trinkets with local companies' names on them.  Though, honestly, one of the best tools I've used in my life came from a Welcome Wagon basket.  It was a simple, nibbly-textured rubber circle used to grip hard-to-open jars.  It lasted me a whole decade and I've never seen anything like it since.  If anyone can find me a replacement, I would be ever so grateful.  I'll give you like an extra $10 as a finder's fee.
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An amusing tidbit provided by Fink-Nottle kept me busy for the last few minutes of work:

Based on my last two blog entries and today's in-progress one, http://iwl.me/ thinks I write like Chuck Palahniuk (today's), David Foster Wallace (7/14/10) and Stephen King (7/12/10).  Funny enough, Wikus also got DFW and Mr. King, but instead of Chucky,  he got Arthur C. Clarke.

Obviously iwl.me has a very limited author database.