Hallux Rigidus or Bye Bye Bone Spurs

The fancy term for bone spurs of the big toe is Hallux Rigidus.

These nasty little suckers have been bothering me for years (note the lightening bolt, indicating pain), but that's about to change. Tomorrow, I go under the knife (and saw! eeek!) for a little something called a Cheilectomy (kI-lekÂ?-toe-me). Procedures like this fall under the general bunionectomy category. (Yes, the clinical term is bunionectomy. Wasn't there a Seinfeld monologue about surgical procedures with humiliating names?) All this body carpentry is going to put me out of commission for a few days. But don't worry. It's minor same day surgery. Please Pass the Percocet!

What Stupid Things Make You Laugh?

Sometimes words cannot describe the funniest things. Maybe you had to be there, but that can't stop me from trying to share the laughter.

Here's my list.
The time when Mom told us, "Don't say fart. Say pass gas."
Saying Gnip Gnop (added 3/29/2004)

This dance my big brother used to do
Brian Setzer in the Stray Cats "Rock This Town" video
"Malvert pee red." from STUDENT BODIES
a billboard on I-394 that advertised a free box of steaks with every windsheild replacement
"Electricity drives me insane." from CRY BABY (pretty much all of CRY BABY)
This website of halloween costumes at


As Quiconque's mother used to say, "Little Makes a Fool Laugh."

Performance Art for Knitters

drown’d in mine own tears
A multi-media performance conceived and performed by
mezzo-soprano/performance artist Martha McDonald


According to the website "drown’d in mine own tears draws from the Greek myths of Ariadne and Penelope to explore our relationship to time and fate." Sounds pretty deep. My tough-as-nails artsy video professor had something to do with this thing, so it's probably too challenging for me, but maybe the knitters will dig it.

Mea Culpa. I Can Type, but I Can't Spell.

Visitors to this blog have noticed that I, like Fran Kubelik in The Apartment, can type up a storm, but I can't spell. Unlike Fran, I do not live in a pre-Feminine Mystique, pre-spell check world that would force me to work as an elevator operator, if I was lucky enough to be an adorable, porcelain-skinned redhead.

I could never get my head around spelling. It's a little ironic, considering what I do for a living. All words look strange to me if I stare at them long enough ("enough", what the hell?). Never mind html code. This spelling problem stirs up a nasty emotional cocktail in me, a disproportionately sized blender full of rage, inadequacy, fear and guilt. Past egregious errors start to play in my head like a broken disc of shame "...Sented payed scented paid sented payed scented paid..." I have flashbacks in which my mother tells me I can't write because I can't spell. "No, mom! Those are two totally different things! You just don't understand! Oh, why can't you understand?" Sometimes spelling can be oppressive.

You'll never catch me replacing "s" with "z",or "er" with "ah", as in "playaz", and few things irritate me more than folksy misspellings in advertising. But I will make innocent mistakes. I will forget to spell check in my rush to avoid ruminating over the quality of a post. So my nightmare of looking like an ignoramus in print becomes reality and my emotional blender is on frappe.

Anyway, I guess I'm just trying to say forgive my poor spelling, please. AND DON'T MENTION IT AGAIN! ;)

Smells Like History

If you are hankering for a nasal counterpart to Color, the book Melba is reading, here it is!


Constance Classen's Aroma: the cultural history of smell is stinking up my library right now. Fortunately, we don't have a copy of the Scented Ape, amazon.com's "better together" recommendation.

Do I REALLY Want to Experience the 18th Century to Its FULLEST?

I enjoyed my visits to Colonial Williamsburg as much as the next citizen, but when I saw this ad on my yahoo mail, I thought, wait just a cotton picking minute, or a tobacco picking minute! Maybe it's the woman's ambivalent expression and gesture--that smile that is more canine baring that friendly, that hand that could be extended in friendship or as a means to repell. I don't know. Maybe it was just wholesome historic fun.

Party for the President

I guess it was a couple of years ago. I took an online survey so I could get a free sample of Nestle's Quik, then suddenly, I'm on the RNC email list. Now they're sending me emails like crazy. Here's one that declares April 29th official Party for the President Day:


...Hosting a party is easy and it doesn't cost a thing. Click below to learn more:
http://www.GeorgeWBush.com/Party/

WHERE: Your home, the coffee shop, local diner, etc. A Party for the President can be as easy as inviting your neighbors for a cup of coffee, BBQ or casual conversation.

WHEN: Thursday, April 29th at 8:00pm EST. For parties with 5 or more guests who RSVP at GeorgeWBush.com, National "Party for the President" Day will include a conference call with a senior campaign leader. This special guest will answer questions and deliver a political briefing on the progress of the campaign.

WHY: ...all party hosts receive a special package from the campaign with an exclusive Bush-Cheney '04 video, bumper stickers, other campaign materials and a letter from President Bush...

Sincerely,

Ken Mehlman
Campaign Manager


If you go to the website, you can find the locations of nearby Party for the President Parties using your zip code. Looks like I'd have to travel a little bit to get to the party nearest to me, but that's okay. I'll be sure to stop by with a case of non-alcoholic beer and an assault rifle. What will you bring?

This whole thing is just begging to be subverted, guys. Should I sign on for a free party pack and host my own special party for w?

Nuptual Resin Dog

Last fall, a dear college friend married a really super lady. They registered for the customary household gifts, yet among the gifts listed was a 22 inch German Shepard. I resolved to buy it for them. Too often, we wind up buying wedding gifts that never evoke memories of us. Like, how many times will my high school pal look at her salad bowl and think of me? Would I even want her to? By putting this german shepard on the gift registry, my dear friend and his special lady were giving their loved ones a shot at wedding gift immortality.

So I dragged another friend to the Mahattan BB&B in search of this dog, because it wasn't available through their on line catalog. It turns out, it's not available in their stores anymore, either. So, I may be forced to send them this substitue item.
Perhaps, I should just be content with the silpat and salad spinner I sent them. It's not so bad to be remembered everytime a friend makes cookies or dries lettuce.

Furilla Mono Head Red

Lookie what I got in NY! It's a helluva town! My guy is the red one on the top row. I also bought a mess o other toys from kid robot. (You hang aroung librarians long enough, you start collecting stuff).

Thanks to Quiconque for showing me a good time in the big city. I think we generated enough new inside jokes and references--


I love (fill in name of male celebrity here)_____!!!!!
He's so gay!!!!
No he's not, he's my boyfriend!!!!

to keep the friendship going at least until we take London in January. And we WILL take London!

What the Kids in My Office Are Talking About

So this kid wanted to know about the nature of ticklishness and he did a little search. Turns out some bigger kids on a molecular biology Q and A blog were curious, too, and they provided the article below.

Psychon Bull Rev. 1999 Sep; 6(3): 504-10. Related Articles, Links


Can a machine tickle?

Harris CR, Christenfeld N.

Department of Psychology-0109, University of California, San Diego, La Jolla, CA 92093-0109, USA. charris@psy.ucsd.edu

It has been observed at least since the time of Aristotle that people cannot tickle themselves, but the reason remains elusive. Two sorts of explanations have been suggested. The interpersonal explanation suggests that tickling is fundamentally interpersonal and thus requires another person as the source of the touch. The reflex explanation suggests that tickle simply requires an element of unpredictability or uncontrollability and is more like a reflex or some other stereotyped motor pattern. To test these explanations, we manipulated the perceived source of tickling. Thirty-five subjects were tickled twice--once by the experimenter, and once, they believed, by an automated machine. The reflex view predicts that our "tickle machine" should be as effective as a person in producing laughter, whereas the interpersonal view predicts significantly attenuated responses. Supporting the reflex view, subjects smiled, laughed, and wiggled just as often in response to the machine as to the experimenter. Self-reports of ticklishness were also virtually identical in the two conditions. Ticklish laughter evidently does not require that the stimulation be attributed to another person, as interpersonal accounts imply.

I love science!

Should I get these glasses?

I'm considering this model, because I think I have a round face and these are square. But then, maybe I really have a square face. A co-worker says it's oval. If you've seen my face and have any idea which offical face shape it really is, please let me know. When I look at my face in the mirror, it just looks face-shaped to me.

Bono? And All We Got was Murphy Brown

This year's commencement line up is pretty stellar. They stuck my class with some spoiled blond art history major drop out who just happened to have a hit TV show. Oh, yeah, and some pioneering lawyer from South Africa, but we couldn't hear his speech because the acoustics were really bad. I was sitting next to this little weirdo and another friend who was really into frogs. This chick behind us kept bemoaning the fact that all her hard work and her academic honors (she was cum something) were meaningless. Meaningless! Her pal's efforts to comfort her were hindered by the champagne snarfing through her nose.

Hey, yous! It's Hahvahd's Wicked Dialect Survey Results

51. Would you say "Are you coming with?" as a full sentence, to mean "Are you coming with us?" You betcha!

Very liberal use of the word "anymore."

82. What do you call the gooey or dry matter that collects in the corners of your eyes, especially while you are sleeping?

Gozilla V. The Mulch Monster or If Stink Had a Face

It's that time of year again on campus, time to spread tons of fecund, reeking mulch on all the flower beds so that when the high rolling alums and parents show up at graduation, they can marvel at the landscaping and declare, "Now that's endowment money well spent! To whom shall I make out this big juicy donation check?"

This picture was swiped from http://www.dalekempire.com/GodzillaAmerica9.html

Saw Spartan

Last night, I saw a preview of David Mamet's SPARTAN and it was very good. The guy sitting behind me said it was "awful," but what did he know? The screening was sponsored by a radio station. Before the movie, the station mascot, a giant grinning bee, stood waving in front of the screen, posing with t-shirt give-away winners, and disturbing my friend. She was conflicted. She knew the mascot's presence was stupid, yet whenever the bee looked her way, she was filled with loving delight. She had to supress an urge to wave and say, "Hi, Mr. Bee!" If only the bee would have quoted Glengarry Glenross. Always BEE closing.

What Kind of Violence Do You Like?

Many months ago, I accidentally gave away FIGHT CLUB to a respected co-worker. I kidded myself, thinking, she'll forget what I said and watch the movie unscathed. Well, of course I was wrong. When at last she saw FIGHT CLUB, she was thinking about the ending the whole time she watched, but she still she liked it. So I'm not that bad. Right? Anyway, this lead to a fun discussion. I confessed to my co-worker that I'm starting to enjoy movie violence more and more. My co-worker and I both enjoyed watching martial arts, but we split on fist fights, explosions, and guns. My co-worker wondered, how come she was creeped out when one of the pirates in PIRATES OF THE CARRIBEAN kept losing his eye and popping in back in, when she was totally cool with the "fact" that he was a bunch of raw bones?

Violence that I like to watch:
swordings
fist fighting and brawling
elegantly choreographed martial arts
people getting wacked in the back of the head by surprise
violent use of non-weapons, such as phones and cookware (except for power tools)
ladies kneeing guys in the groin
ladies kicking people
pinching (not much pinching in cinema, too bad)
Russell Crowe(notwithstanding Romper Stomper)

Violence I don't like:
icky stabbings (not like swordings at all)
eye poking
chain sawings and other power toolings
bone breaking
shootings
blowing ups
burnings and boilings
strangulatings
poisionings

What kind of violence do you like?

Sexist Observation: What's with some guys and their guitars?

The guys I tend to know are the kind of guys who shouldn't be allowed near a microphone or a guitar. That's what I get for doing improv comedy and stuff. I mean, I love these guys. Bless them, but sheesh! Dare I compare them to my nephew, who as an innocent toddler, couldn't keep his hands out of his shorts? His mother would gently pipe, "Don't worry, it's still there!" What's endearing and natural in preschool is a bit sad in latter life. Am I being mean here, or what?

I'm going to figure out this blog medium. I don't have a bachelors degree in communications for nothing! I can do it. It's like, when I finally saw the White Stripes. I said to myself, "Yes, I GET it now, this contemporary culture thing!"