Queen Mediocretia of Suburbia

Conventions. Why We Need Them.

1) Unintentional Hilarity.

You don't want to miss surreal theater like this.

Clint Eastwood speaks disrespectfully to an empty chair purported to contain the President of the United States.

Just when I gained control of my jaw and got on to Twitter to see if I was hallucinating, this popped up:

2. Clarification of One's Beliefs

My thoughts crystallized during Mitt's video-bio, when his sons described how he was "cheap." The example they showed was an oven vent light that went out. Mitt replaced it with a regular light bulb so he didn't have to buy an appliance bulb.

Since the larger light bulb stuck out and blinded those who were cooking, Mitt taped a strip of aluminum foil to the front of the vent.

And I say, on behalf of everyone with MS who may be asked to cook dinner standing inches away from a 40 watt light bulb, Mitt, you are an asshole.

This is exactly why I don't want you running my country. They say you should run the U.S. because you'd run it like a successful business. I don't want my country to be a business. A business where people are laid off because it's not financially feasible to keep them on? I want it to be a family. A family in which someone who is a drug addict gets unconditional love and free syringes so he won't die. One that feeds a hungry man just because he's hungry, even thought he's just spent his last dime on a flat-screen color television and some vodka.

I know, when either party wins it'll be somewhere between both extremes, but I can't vote for someone who cares more about a 50 cent light bulb than he cares about his family.

And REALLY. That Clint Eastwood thing was weird.

Best Convention Moment Ever

Given that I spent my day sleeping, urping, and Doing a Noisy Version Of A Quiet Thing, all I have for you is my favorite convention moment: the infamous "Go Balloons Go!" live mic snafu of 2004.

Birthday Month Fail

The plan for last Saturday was to go to the International Festival in Tower Grove Park. This was an attempt to do something new, see new things, eat new foods (smoked meatloaf at the Shaved Duck right by Tower Grove).

Bored! Bored! New! New! New!

No, no, no.

I didn't think it through. We started too late, we parked too far away, and then at the end it rained on us, so Gary (who does not believe in evaporation, it would seem) insisted we could not eat at the Shaved Duck and must go home and get out of the wet clothes.

So instead, I consoled myself with NEW food at Taco Bell (warning: the cantina bowl is laced with cilantro) and the memory of my one NEW experience:

I did get to pet a two-week-old water buffalo.

Medicine Withdrawal

1) One Pervy Dream.

2) One Sleepless Night.

3) Many On-Line Purchases.

That's an old photo. Since this morning I've also bought another sweater and a jacket. Foot cream is scratched off because it has arrived. And after I typed that sentence I resisted the urge to order an emery board on-line.

The flour, incidentally, is fancy expensive pasta-specific flour. I'll be adding it to the $40 tin of saffron I bought last week and making the most expensive home-made pasta in the world. The batteries? Worth the three dollar shipping.

I still am holding out against the temptation to buy these:

... because I can only find them in that color and my size for $330.00. I will never have enough money to spend that much on shoes that weren't custom-built for my feet.

I'd much rather have this for my medicine withdrawal than that feeling of abandonment and hopelessness that I had last time.

Bathroom Etiquette

I was in the bathroom at work. Like many of us, I am a First Stall Girl. No mincing around with studies on what is the least germy stall (middle). I go in the first stall I see. If someone's in the first stall I leave a buffer stall, as you do, and go there.

So I was in the first stall, and someone else was doing a Quiet Thing three stalls down. I began doing a Quiet Thing as well, because I'd had oatmeal for breakfast.

Two women walked and one sarcastically said, "Oh, it smells lovely in here."

This has happened to me before.

I didn't have the nerve to pipe up with an equally sarcastic "Sorry! Usually my stool smells like lemon shortbread cookies" because 1) I was at work and 2) I couldn't see who these women were, they might have been big revenue generators for TeddyJ and you don't slight those people and 3) there was someone else doing a Quiet Thing and that might make her feel as if I was shuttling the blame to her.

Everyone else left before I did, so I didn't even get a chance to give the dainty woman the snake eye. Instead I went and complained to friends, which sparked a debate:

RESOLVED: Given that the woman was rude to say anything before checking that all the stalls were empty, would it have been rude to say the same thing to her friend in an empty bathroom? Some say no.

I say, for God's sake it's a bathroom. Commenting on the smell of a bathroom is like going to a Knights of Columbus Hall and complaining there are so many drunks there.

Also, commenting on smells in a bathroom is like commenting on sounds in a bathroom, it is not done, even if no one is there. (Unless you are on your blog the next day.)

This leaves me with one more question: how do I avoid this in the future?

a) Gary suggested lighting a match, but only because his mom discovered that (despite my "boldness") I'm afraid of paper matches. (You're only protected from fire by one inch of a flammable substance. Crazy.)

b) He also suggested that I, like him, flush continuously to "create a vacuum effect."

c) I thought I might just become a Last Stall Girl, or

d) Buy some Kobayashi Powerful One Drop. Tagline: "eliminate unwanted odors, like a ninja, silent, powerful, leaving no trace."

Naked Harry: The Disappointment (Full of Links, Not Photos. SFW.)

Prince Harry got "naked" in Vegas. Thanks to TMZ and their proud American disrespect of foreign sovereigns, you can see the photos here.

Granted, the photos are blurry, and when I saw them on E! I must not have had my glasses on, because I credited Harry for the girl's butt and thigh. I thought he was in a body builder pose. See here.

So, I was disappointed when I saw the shots on TMZ. Not only is he a little flat-bottomed, I don't see anything up front. This may be considered naked in other countries, but frankly if I don't see a penis I say you aren't naked. It's just rock and roll.

(And in the photo of Ed from BNL linked above, is that a penis or a testicle dangling there? No one will answer me. I mean, it might not be a testicle. It's entirely possible.)

Anyway, Harry. Hiding it.  For all I know he might be wearing a modesty patch. Give the boy some credit for covering it up. Or else, perhaps TMZ has other photos they can't post online.

Here's what I really want to know: why are they staying at the Wynn and not the Bellagio?  What are they watching on TV? Most important, when Harry turns 30 and gets his inheritance free and clear will he take a DNA test?

Mrs. Science Reports: A New Trend in Prescription Dosage

When I went to the neurologist back in January, he mentioned there might be a new clinical trial to assess efficacy of a 50% dose of my current medication. I asked, "Will it cost $2,000 instead of $4,000?" and the answer was no.

(I wondered why they would like to cut the dose in half, and I thought it was because the FDA is concerned about side effects and my health. It occurs to me just now that the makers might want to double the profit margin.)

So, not only might I be taking less MS medication, the psychiatrist thinks I might be able to get off my Celexa entirely. No brain drugs at all? I reminded him what I was like four years ago when I forgot my pills for two weeks. He thinks that might have been a reaction to dropping off the drugs too fast.

Then we had a very frank conversation about how no one knows how any of these SSRIs work. All the seratonin knowledge I swallowed whole has no real basis in fact. They say seratonin's the explanation, but tests don't back them up.

We already took me from 40 to 20 last year, so now I'm going to 10, then 5, then (CRAZY LAUGH HAHAHAHAHA) nothing. When I cut down on my meds last year Gary said he could see the change immediately. I had him promise to let me know if I seem to be sliding in to something worse.

I really don't know if this is going to work. Still, it seems to be all the rage to have doctors take you off drugs.

Rest In Peace, Phyllis Diller

See, here's a nice photo of Phyllis Diller. She lived in Webster Groves while she was starting in comedy.

At times (infrequently), I'll ask Gary before I put some humiliating information about him on the blog. He sighs and says, "Sure, I'll be your Fang."

I Have NEVER Been So Excited About Voting for Senator!

I have questions. 

http://youtu.be/fdisTOKom5I

If you want to see it in context, it is in the second video here: http:2now.com/2012/08/19/the-jaco-report-august-19-2012/

Possible follow-up by the interviewer, Charles Jaco: "What doctors?"

Actual follow-up: "Okay, let's talk about the economy."

My follow-up: I gave $25 to his opponent, my buddy Claire McCaskill.

Must See TV and Radio

My weekend centers around in-house entertainment.

CNN  - Usually the weekend includes an hour of feeling guilty for not watching Fareed Zakari GPS. I start to watch, I want to be an educated member of the global community, but it is so boring. Not the subject matter so much as Fareed and his soothing voice. And now, come to find out Fareed has a secret double life as a plagarist and CNN has suspended him. I think that just gets me an extra hour of (not) hearing about Mitt Romney's taxes.

NPR - Mike Birbiglia was on Wait Wait Don't Tell Me. I hope he was good. I slept through it. I'll catch it tomorrow.

FOX - (The sports channel, that is.) We got Mr. Wonderful some tickets to the ball game. He'll be in the green seats where we sat on July 4, but he'll be closer to home plate. We might be able to see him on TV. I don't know why this tickles me so much, but it does, as if I'm creating a STAR.

The House cheese does indeed taste like cheese

... But it has a very off-putting grey vein running through it. Three fourths looks inedible. One fourth seems safe.

Locked Out: This Time With Spell Check

You may have seen the earlier version of this, which I published (accidentally) from my IPhone. I apologize. I wasn't even trying to type. I would delete it, but the last time that happened you all unearthed the rough draft and shared it in the comments anyway.

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I came home today, pushed the garage door opener, and the door did not open. I could see the dog looking out through the sidelight.

Assumption 1
Perhaps the three o clock thunderstorm had taken out our power and I would need to dig the hidden key out of the back garden.

I feel comfortable telling you where my key is hidden, because it was not there. At first I blamed the groundhogs, but then I remembered one very energetic security-conscious day when I'd sorted all the keys into envelopes defining what each did and how many there were.

I looked in the back window (the dog was there now) and saw we did have power.

Assumption 2
Perhaps the garage door opener battery was dead.

I have no spare batteries buried out back, so I drove to Walmart. My hands were black with mulch. I didn't look clean enough to go to the grocery, so I went to the Walmart and brought the opener in with me.

I'd made plans to buy a screwdriver to unscrew the back, but instead I went to the jewelry counter. The Walmart lady at the jewelry counter was very impressed with my resourcefulness. She even went to get the battery, once we found out the size. 9 Volt. This becomes important.

I took out the old batteries while she took out the new battery, and we simultaneously put our batteries on the counter. I immediately had no idea which was the good battery.

"Taste it with your tongue," she said. "That's how you know if a battery's good."

I was intrigued. I had no idea batteries had a taste! I knew you can make a battery out of a lemon, or a potato, and I know salt is part of chemistry. So, I thought it would taste lemony, or possibly like salty potato chips.

It did not.

I jumped a foot and dropped the battery. She apologized. She used to put batteries on her tongue "all the time" when she was a kid. I don't know, maybe that's why she is now working at Walmart.

Got back to the house. Still no access. Dog still looking through sidelight. I called Gary (who also didn't carry a front door key until tonight), and he was twenty minutes away.

I occupied myself typing on my iPhone (see below). Gary got there. Still no access. Gary came up with Assumption 3.

Assumption 3
Garage door is just off the track.

I had no idea you can just push a garage door open a foot if it's off the track. I rolled inside and opened the front door for him.

The dog said, "It was just off the track! I was trying to tell you!"

Locked out: The Rough Draft. Just ignore this.

This is how I type on my iphone. I keep forgetting Save on my iPhone isthe same as "Publish" on my PC. Believe me, the polished version is much better. ==================================== I came ho E today , pushed the garage foor pener and the door didnt oFor some reason I was extra security Onscopous one day and I got rid of the key we use when we are locked open Assumption 1 The three o clock thunderstorm had taken out our power and I wold need to get the key out of it'd hiding lace Went around back it would seem ground hogs had gotten the key or I was security conscious one day and brought it in, Also from a deifferent eindow I could see he power was on Assumption two battery is dead, I have no batteries buried outside Hot n car and drove to Walmart also brought in opener also peed Also cleaned dirt out fr fingers Went to jewelry counter to use the tiny screwdriber Wan very helpful and impress with my resourcefulness She helped get the batteries open after I paid and tool one put on the counter I dug the bad battery on the counter immediately had no idea which was the good battery Taste it with your tongue she said I had no idea batteries had a taste I never put one ony tongue I knew you can make a battery out of a lemon or a potatoe and I know salt is part of chemistry so I thought it would taste lemony or possibly like salty potsod chips It did not I jumped a foot and dropped the battery She apologized because she used to put batteries on her tongue all the time she was a kid I don't know maybe that's why she'd working at Walmart Then I called Gary He had no key and we arehpi g his works

Gary's Traitorous Pants, 2012

Gary called me from the Chinese Food place, but immediately began talking to the cashier. Thus, the conversation went like this:

Me: Hi hon.

Gary: (to cashier) I had the garlic chicken, special fried rice, and moo shu pork.

Me; Chinese! For my birthday! Thank you, hon.

Me: Hon?

Me: HEY.

Gary: What? I wasn't listening.

Me: Chinese!

Gary: How did you know?

Me: I heard you on the phone.

(This is why I assumed his phone had gone rogue and butt-dialed me. He didn't seem aware I was on the phone, but he insists he deliberately called.)

Gary. Okay, well, see you soon.

Then he evidently put the phone in his pocket without hanging up.

Then we had about three minutes of deja vu, just like all the other butt-dials from Gary: Woosh woosh as Gary walks to the car, Ding Ding as he gets in, me screaming GARRYYYY GAAAARY.

This time, though, I knew he was close to home, so I decided to listen to whatever he had on the radio. He never turned on the radio. Instead, he began having one half of an fairly animated conversation.

Gary insisted, "I can guarantee them backup stability with one hundred percent confidence if they'll just do that."

Then a long pause.

"Oh, your father worked for the government? How did they deal with that?"

Another long pause.

"Well, a three-hundred MILLION dollar system, you would think that would be important. Three! Hundred! Million! Dollars!"

I started to wonder if he was having a work conversation on the Blackberry and somehow the wires were crossed. But, I'd never heard the start of a conversation. I wondered if a mime was in the car.

He kept talking about work systems and backups until I heard him signal a turn, then the garage door went up and I realized he was alone and not on his phone.

And I laughed and laughed. I admit, sometimes I will be in the car alone, fantasizing about whoever has enchanted me lately, and I will think of something particularly witty and I say it aloud. I'm always surprised when the words made it out of fantasy and into reality. Then, I thank my stars no one else was in the car. Or, you know, on the phone.

I could see all the rest being just Gary working things out loud about his job, but where on earth did "Oh, your father works for the government?" come in? Where was he in his head? Wearing a tuxedo at a diplomatic ball? He claims to not remember saying that.

I'm going to let that lie. Because frankly, if you're in an imaginary tuxedo flirting with Angelina Jolie and all you've got is "I can guarantee them backup stability," then yes, I think I'm okay with that.

Radio Silence

I know that ...

I am a member of Gary's immediate family because he bought me an iPad for my birthday.

I need new glasses because all the letters are too small. Cliche.

I am old because I'm a little cranky about adjusting to new things.

I am lazy because I really like using the dictation feature.

I'm having trouble getting everything set up, hence the delay in posting.

 

I Know It Seems Harsh, But Who Would Miss A Mike Birbiglia Show Because His Teeth Hurt?

Mike Birbiglia said "That's nice..." when I asked him to sign the book for Gary.

Feeling My Age, Part Two: The Assimilation

Gary made it clear this morning that no matter his promises last night, he would not be joining me on any errand or shopping trips today. I got hungry between three and four and decided to go to Sherlock's, because Gary screams whenever I suggest it. (He had an unfortunate brunch there.)

I sat down next to two older ladies who were slinging back beers. I eavesdropped enough to realize they were with a seniors meetup group. I looked up Meetup Groups : Travel while I ate.

By the time my meal came there were twelve of them. They'd taken all my spare chairs. By the time I paid there were twenty of them, including one older man who had a go-to joke:

"Are you married?" [answer: yes] "Do you cheat?" [answer: no] "Will you lie still while I do?" [Hilarity ensues.]

So, when they saw I was leaving a few of them came over and said I could join them. How nice of you, I said, but no thank you, I need to be on my way.

"You know what our group is called?" one asked.

"What it's called? No. Is it some type of senior meetup group? I just turned fifty yesterday." I AM NOT ONE OF YOU. IT'S TOO SOON. TOO SOON!

"Our group is called 'Why Eat Alone?'" she said, and put a hand on my shoulder. She looked at me with pity while others rose and came to my table. ONE OF US ONE OF US.

"No," I protested, "I'm just alone because my husband had his wisdom teeth pulled yesterday."

One-Joke Man jumped in and asked, "Do you cheat?"

Feeling My Age

Here's how I spent my 50th birthday.

"Woke" at 7:30. I use the quotes because I didn't feel awake all day.

Gary woke at about 9:00 am. He took they day off work because he had his wisdom teeth extracted yesterday. He had 4 adult wisdom teeth and a baby wisdom tooth. No Versed for him: he went on Novacaine and nitrous. He is so miserable that I hate to mention he HAS AGAIN USURPED MY BIRTHDAY MONTH. Blood and headaches trump birthday.

I fell asleep off and on until ten. I needed caffeine, but that is off the table.

At about 10 I began getting ready to go to Saint Louis University. SLU has an organization that protects their clinical trial participants, and I participated in a panel discussion. My trial wasn't through SLU, but Rachel From the Cruise was organizing the event and she thought of me.

Wore me out. I was open and lively during the panel - in fact, the moderator pointedly asked if there had been a psych evaluation before I was selected for the trial. It was all very illuminating for me. I met a woman who had been in one of the Salk vaccine trials, and an African-American man who came from a culture that relates drug trials to the Tuskeegee Medical Experiments.

I also got a peek at the SLU culture. On the one hand, when I related that my drug trial had insisted I use two forms of birth control, they laughed and said they never ask their patients to do that. It seems to be a tough and gritty form of Catholicism; right now Saint Louis is abuzz with news of the snitfest between the Law Dean and Father Biondi (Head Honcho and the Pissiest Man of God ever). I'm glad to see the media are the only ones who use his religious title, since he sounds like a bit of a douche.

All that was too much for me. I've tried to nap since I got back, but relatives keep calling with birthday wishes. Gary did recognize my birthday by allowing a birthday hug. And I tell you, right now I am so wiped that the constant CNN Breaking News fanfare doesn't get my adrenaline going. It would seem Mitt will declare his VP before I wake up tomorrow.

I call Jindal. Most predictable and tame.

Book Recommendation: Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal

I know I'm late to the Lamb party. But if you, like me, avoided it, change your ways. I remember laughing out loud ONCE at a book. (To Kill A Mockingbird - "I don't want to play Shadrach anymore.") This book gave me a good out-loud laugh every other chapter. I just finished it and I am sad.

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This post is being abridged because the death thunderstorm from Kansas City is rolling in, and this laptop needs to be unplugged. It looks like the sky is lit by strobes. Pray for me.

What We Should Really be Talking About At the Olympics

Lately, everyone has been yapping about Gabby's hair.

This is what we should be focusing on:

No one has an eyebrow pencil?

(Perhaps someone jabbed it into the eye of the grumpy man sitting behind Aly Raisman's parents.)

A New Meme

A year and a half ago, Carrie from the BNL cruise posted a photo on Facebook of the two of us. It was an excellent photo of Carrie. It was the worst photo of me I had ever seen.

She re-posted it yesterday. For no reason other than she wanted to point out she was wearing Mardi-Gras beads.

So this is the new meme: post the worst photo of you.

Here I am. I blacked Carrie out in Paint so you wouldn't be distracted by her beauty.

Eyes: uneven. If both eyes were piggy little slits like the one on the right, that would be symmetrical, at least. Nope. I just blocked out the piggy eye with my finger and the right eye looks crazy.

Nose: Piggy nose. Clean, at least.

Lips: I never knew I had one of those figure eight smiles. Open on the sides, clamped in the middle.

Chin #1: Too long and pointy.

Chin #2: Wow! That's a cat in a hammock. See how it has a gravity of its own on the right slope? That chin needs a brassiere.

Quick, look at this photo. That's what I look like. That's what I look like to really tall people, anyway.

So, that's the meme. Post your worst photo ever.

Live Blogging Life on Mars

12:15 am You know, I really should be asleep now. But there might be life on Mars. We hear a signal from the rover in 15 minutes. How can I sleep?

12:18 You know, one of the previous rovers was only supposed to last a few months and it's been tooling around for years. That's suspiscious. Is there no friction on Mars?

12:24 Six more minutes, they say. I can't tell you how excited I am about this. Do you know there might be water where it lands?

12:27 Excited NASA engineers! Parachute is deployed!

12:28 - NASA lady, this would have been a good night to put a little effort into your hair.

12:30 - sky crane! And I cannot tell you how good it is to hears women's voices at Mission control -

12:33 - Damn! Party at mission control! I'm replaying that.

12:34 - an image! Of dirt and a part of a wheel! And Jesus, Some guy at mission control stuck his hand in front of the screen with the image and I thought "LOOK A GIANT MARTIAN HAND."

You Can See This Coming

My niece Arzanna-fay came to town and requested a dinner out. I've only ever eaten with her at chain restaurants and the Indian Palace, so I wanted to upgrade, since she is all of 22. Farmhaus didn't have an extensive enough menu, then I found that Mosaic has a location by Gary's work.

She's a pescatarian but she's not vigilant. She can pick off bacon. Most plates came with three bites in the order: three artichoke hearts, three pot stickers, etc, so we each got a taste. Between us we shared these small plates:

• One shot glass each of squash soup, honeydew/cucumber gazpacho, and beef soup
• Flash-fried baby artichoke hearts with chipotle aioli and sweet chili sauce
• Compressed watermelon and goat cheese with crusty endive, baby arugula, shaved radish, candied pistachio, and citrus-mint vinaigrette
• Candied tomato and goat cheese flatbread with dried fig. arugula, balsamic vinegar and duroc bacon
• Pot stickers of suckling pig and shaved celery with Thai peanut sauce
• Maple glazed scallops with compressed honeydew, duroc bacon, pea shoots, candied sunflower seeds and sherry vinaigrette
• Local Shiitake and organic mushroom tart on puff pastry with lavender scented goat cheese, tomatoes, and apple saba
• Rensing Farm pork tenderloin with a quail egg and potato confit, caramelized Brussels sprouts, spiced popcorn, and a maple-cider reduction
• Tangerine glazed Long Island duck breast with roasted cauliflower, oak log shiitake mushrooms, pickled pearl onions and spiced carrot puree
• Pan-seared Canadian salmon with spring peas, saffron and goat cheese tortellini, lemon thyme butter and fresh mint (Arzanna-fay got this all to herself, since she didn't have any duck or pork or pot stickers.)

You know me. You know Gary. You KNOW where this story goes from here.

And, the thing is, I was stupid enough to drink half a glass of Sangria beforehand. Because you know, Saint Paul says wine settles your stomach.

So, I was driving the three of us back to Gary's car when the first wave of pain hit me. The hideous gas pain that cannot be released, not just because you are not alone, but because it is accompanied by raw fluid. Another Bible verse from Genesis 1: "And the earth was waste and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep: and the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters." And the whiteness was upon the knuckles and a great silence fell upon the car.

The pain went away at Manchester and 270, and came back right before the 40 / 270 interchange. I thought, "Well, Missouri Baptist, Mom found out she was dying in one of your rooms, so here's payback. I am using your bathroom without buying a soda."

I planned to use the bathroom across from the coffee stand by the outpatient lab, but Gary said, just go the Emergency Room, it's right there. We pulled up tot he curb right behind two police SUVs, an ambulance, and a stretcher with a person on it. I did not even glance at that dramatic tableau. I did not peek out of the corner of my eye. I had laser vision focused on the door, the waiting room, the bathroom, the single commode, which thankfully was empty.

So when I came out after ten minutes of entertaining the ER with my impression of a cappuccino-maker I was surprised to see Gary and Arzanna-fay lounging in the ER seats, watching the Olympics. No one else in the waiting room was looking at the TV. Gary said there was one woman who was crying and distraught, and the other eight people just stared into space.

The crying woman may have been related to the police drama I had missed. Another drama I missed was Gary trying to park the car. The only place he could park was behind a gate, and he thought he might have to get a token, so they just sauntered in to watch the Olympics and giggle with each other like
they were at a bar. I am surprised they didn't help themselves to coffee.

When we left I did make eye contact with a paramedic behind the desk and mouthed, "Sorry! Bathroom!" He nodded.

Gary was hit next when he was behind the wheel. We all made it to the bathroom at his office building, again, barely, and based on the flushing for the next ten minutes and the horrified whistle afterward I'd say he was hit with the same issue as I was.

Arzanna-fay is young so she made it all the way back to our house. She was only hit by reflux. She wants to see if there are any fusion tapas places in Kansas City.

* We both begged Gary to let us order as we ate, but he insisted we order everything up front. I remembered too late it is my birthday month.

AIEEEE

Actually Stills Nash and Crosby

Still no Stills

Not CSN

I Play at Work

A few years ago I bought this off ThinkGeek.

This putty is the reason that the boss of my boss thinks I'm good at my job. "That Ellen, she plays with that putty all day and she's so creative." I make putty penises and big blue balls. Whatever.

A guy at work saw me playing with the putty and confessed that his go-to cube toy is Buckyballs, so I had to buy a set of those.

They aren't good for mindlessly forming cubes and balls and phallic symbols, but if you are willing to pay attention you can assemble interesting shapes.

Of course, I am not willing to pay attention, so I usually make some easy shape and slap it on my metal cabinet. I had a nice little hexagon out there last week.

Before I returned Monday, Marcia had done this:

 

I had to leave it. Hilarious.

(The list on the cabinet: that's a tally of how many imaginary dollars I have lost in bets with Steve, and he has lost to me. The bets are boring, except for the Bill Cosby bet (Bill C, above) that you know about already.)

So, as soon as Steve and I heard Buckyballs were in danger, we had to buy some more, and they had to be the BuckyBigs, the ones that plug up kid's intestines, the ones they want to outlaw.

Yummy!

They have not yet arrived. Luckily, I also bought a toy made for me: magnetic putty.

It's a magnet! It's a putty! It's a dessert topping! It's actually putty infused with metallic filings (so DON'T EAT IT KIDS) and a powerful cube magnet. They say you can leave the putty and magnet on your desk in the positions above, go to a meeting, and when you come back the putty will have engulfed the magnet.

Supposedly the putty is magnetic too; you can slap it on a metal cabinet and leave it there. Like I say, made for me.