Black Friday Post*

*PC translation: African-American Friday Post

It's Black Friday, and I am not shopping.  As a matter of fact, I am at my office, playing ePlush and blogging, because I am a very contrary individual.  Since today is a furlough day for state workers, we are not even supposed to show up at work or check email from home.  But I am just physically here; I am not working.  Today I got beaten on ePlush by a hippo named Special (like riding the short bus Special?) but the best was when I got beaten by a chicken named Sunday Dinner.  There is no way a kid named that ePlush!

Yesterday at Chez Bonomo there were 22.5 people at Thanksgiving dinner.  (The baby is the half a person, since he didn't eat anything.)  I had procured a 20-pound turkey (actually 19.9 pounds) and it was picked clean by the end of the night, despite the presence of several vegetarians.  (At least three.)  I mostly talked to Mr. Icon, who had great theological stories.  My two favorites:

Mr. Icon often visits the Jesus People (is this the official name of the group?  I have no idea), who are a bunch of evangelical types.  Last year they had a Good Friday service, which he found surprising enough, but during the Litany (which he said they "borrowed" from the Lutherans), they asked for the prayers of all the saints in Heaven and on Earth.  Did I mention these are Evangelicals?  He sat bolt upright in shock, and the guy next to him, a dyed-in-the-wool Jesus person, noticed his reaction and said, "Dude."

Mr. Icon's friend, who is also Catholic, said during Mass he often felt a movement in his soul, he wasn't saying it was necessarily the Holy Spirit, compelling him to pray for the repose of the soul of Martin Luther.  When he wondered if he should pray for the repose of the soul of John Calvin as well, this same voice - he isn't saying it is necessarily the Holy Spirit - replied, "Don't bother."

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Feral Kids

Today I asked Rockstar Tailor what I should blog about, and she said, "Feral kids."  I asked if those were kids without owners, but she tells me they are just kids who are out of control.  (She also wants me to refer to her as "Olivia" from now on, but for the sake of clarity I will continue to call her Rockstar Tailor.)

Since kids eat free on Tuesdays at Jerkins, Hardingfele and I took Rockstar Tailor and her pal Subcontinent out for dinner.  Hardingfele was a bit concerned that I would never be able to pass off Subcontinent as my own child, since I am very, very white and she is very, very black, but I figured Jerkins doesn't care which kids go with which adults, as long is there at least one adult paying for a full meal for every kid eating for free.  Rockstar Tailor and Subcontinent had lots of amusing stories about the "feral" boys on their bus who like to say "motherf--ker" and record themselves saying the F word on their iPhones.  Did I mention these kids are nine?  I am several times their age, and I do not own an iPhone.  But I digress.  Subcontinent came up with a novel way to deal with boys who say bad words on the bus:  she sprays Silly String on them.  Hardingfele thought that was more likely to get her in trouble than the feral boys, but I personally thought that was hilarious.  Then again, if Subcontinent were my kid, perhaps I would feel differently about the situation, like, oh, not supplying her with Silly String.

Hardingfele asked if Subcontinent had gotten the email she had sent her, and I was like, "You email your kid's friends?  You're just like my mom - she sends Christmas cards to my friends so her list will seem longer!"  But it turns out that Hardingfele had contacted the bus company about the feral kids on Rockstar Tailor's bus, and measures have been put in place to stop the nonsense.  Subcontinent's mother was wondering how she could get the same measures implemented on her own daughter's bus, since Subcontinent rides a different bus than Rockstar Tailor does, even if she does live right across the street.  (That's our school bus system in a word:  efficient.)  Apparently Hardingfele doesn't know the email address for Subcontinent's mother, so she emailed the information to Subcontinent instead.  And I'm thinking, if I were Subcontinent, would I really pass this information on to my mother?  Or would I continue to pursue vigilante justice with my trusty can of Silly String?  And while Hardingfele must once have been a nine-year-old girl herself, why does she have no memory of how they think?  (Mostly about boys, from what I could ascertain.  And how is that different from big girls my age, right?)

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Mysteries of Life

Today I slept in till noon, got up, and took a nap, but I did have time to do a few productive things, like ponder the following mysteries:

Why is it that plots that seem utterly compelling in a dream don't make any sense when you wake up?  For example, I am eternally working on a novel, let's call it The Great American Hat Novel, and today I had a dream that the hats would all meet in New Orleans on Spring Break, when one hat was escaping from a vicious employer and the other hats provided refuge in their hotel room... and then I woke up and thought, "That makes no more sense than the way the story is now."  Less, even.  But it was so great in the dream!  (Maybe Hardingfele can comment on this, since she is the only one who has read this book - besides me - and her assessment of it was, "It was so weird that I couldn't put it down!"  Would New Orleans on Spring Break make you even less likely to put it down?)

Why did my office mate Light Bright leave me a chirpy message saying she had hooked up the filter on my small aquarium the Tallis Palace, and it was working very well so I wouldn't have to come in to clean out the Tallis Palace, but when I stopped by this evening the filter was turned off, the Palace was filthy, and Tallis and Taverner are at Death's doorstep?  If it was working so well, why did she turn it off?  If she didn't turn it off, who did?  This is the kind of mystery that makes me want to never return to work.  In fact, it makes me want to change my identity, burn my fingerprints off with acid, and move to Mexico.  Is someone trying to give me a message, the kind of message other people get with horse heads in their beds?  I have never appreciated people making innocent animals suffer to send a message to other people.  You got something to say, say it to me - leave my fish out of it.

Do you think if I went down to New Orleans I could find some fun people on vacation who would give me refuge in their hotel room? 

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Staycation Update

I am really tired and have five minutes to blog, so who knows how much sense this post will make?  I have already deviated from my staycation itinerary; for example, I did spend a good deal of time on Friday cleaning.  (Friday was my Christmas, since December 25 is on a Saturday this year so we get a floating holiday.)  Then after the rosary with the girls, I ended up talking with Luxuli until 5:30 in the morning about such important topics as people who annoy us.  Luxuli taught me a new insult:  know how a black person who acts too much like a white person gets called an Oreo?  Apparently Asians who act too much like white people get called bananas because they're yellow on the outside but white on the inside.  And what do white people act like?  Apparently we stay up until 5:30 talking trash about annoying people.  But wait, Luxuli did that too, and she's Korean, so does that make her a banana?

Yesterday my besty Tiffy came up and we went shopping.  We didn't see anything too inspiring from a purchasing point of view, other than the necessities I had come to buy (you know, thrilling things like socks), but I did get inspiration for things to have at my department store, should I ever open one.  For example, we saw some simulated diamonds, and I said at my store I would have stimulated diamonds, and if anyone asked me if that was a typo, I would say, "No, ma'am, those diamonds are in a permanent state of arousal."  (Can you see why I do not own a department store?)  Then Tiffy was looking at sunglasses, and I asked if they were polarized.  See, the sunglasses at my department store would be polarized because the left lens would be a Democrat and the right lens would be a Republican.  Then we passed an e - yes, a little clay letter - and I asked Tiffy if she could use an e, but surprisingly she said no.  I said but an e is so useful, it's not like a Q that you would hardly ever use, plus you would have to get the U upgrade to use it.  Maybe at my store I would sell clay X's.  What is the point of X?  If you think about it, what does it do that a KS couldn't do?  Or a Z?  Seriously, can't you read these words?  Taksi.  (That is actually how they spelled it on the taxis in Istanbul.) Zylophone.  Or sometimes X is pronounced "Kriss," as in the word Xmas.  (It must be a word; Spell Check recognizes it.)

Then last night Tiffy and I went to an amazing concert of Bach cantatas, and today we watched our team spank that traitor Brett Favre.  Boo, Brett!

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Staycation

I have so much vacation to use up before the end of the year that I am off of work from today until a week from Monday, and yet I will still have some left over.  So what am I going to do with all that time off?  How about an economical and relaxing staycation!

Thursday:  sleep in, do sudoku, play computer games
Friday:  sleep in, clean, no wait, do sudoku, play computer games, Rosary with the girls
Saturday:  sleep in, confession, hang out with Tiffy, go to Bach concert
Sunday:  Mass, brunch, hang out with Tiffy
Monday - Wednesday:  Anna Banana II and I will entertain the Mothership
Thursday:  THANKSGIVING!!!  - eat with Rich, the Mothership, Kathbert, Mombert, etc.
Friday:  sleep in, do sudoku, play computer games
Saturday:  sleep in, confession (if needed), another early music concert
Sunday:  Mass, brunch, nap

Notice a word prominently missing from each of these days?  Hint:  it's a four-letter word.  That's right, WORK.  It doesn't really matter what you do, if you're not at work, you're probably having fun.

Today, since I had some time, I inspected Plant World.  All my "Christmas" cacti are blooming or have buds, even the smallest cuttings.  Two of my orchids look like they will bloom eventually, but they are taking their sweet time about it.  All the plants seem happy except for, oddly, the spider plants.  Every one of those looks just awful.  The desert cacti don't seem so crazy about the fake light in Plant World either, so today I brought them over to Rich's house and set them in the window of his loft, which faces south and is very, very cold.  Desert cacti love sun, and supposedly cold will get them to bloom.  We'll see...  Of course The Professor, Dr. Cheung, Jolly Bob, and Greg are still at Rich's too, basking in the full southern exposure (plus skylight!) of the floor-to-ceiling windows in his breakfast nook.

The bunnies are happy when I am around so much.  They even both let me pick them up and snuggle them!  I can't say if Sylvia the Hedgehog cares one way or the other about my staycation.

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Electric Koolaide Acid Litmus Test for Politicians

Toque McToque and I, being state employees, were discussing today whether the furloughs we suffer through apply to our esteemed elected officials as well.  Now while a furlong is 220 yards or one-eighth of a mile (or an Irish surname, isn't that interesting?), a furlough is basically a pay cut with some days off for compensation, since by union rules they cannot actually cut our pay or make us work any unpaid time.  Light Bright LOVES our furloughs and is hoping for even more, since the rumor is that our new governor-elect plans to double the number we currently have, but as I have previously mentioned, she gets paid a lot more than either Toque or me, plus she has a rich husband in another state, so what does she care?  Toque and I would like to know if the new governor-elect plans to give himself all these furlough days as well, and that got us to thinking of more questions we would like to ask politicians before an election.

My questions:

What is your stand on realtors killing palm trees?
What superpower would you most like to have?
If you found a $100 bill on the street, would you keep it? Would your answer change if nobody was watching?
Please write a short story (500 words or less) on the following premise: "A well-respected surgeon and his wife in Victorian London live in domestic bliss, despite the whispers about their children that don't look like him and questions about his sexuality, until tragedy strikes when they fall for the same man."
What is your sign of the zodiac? If you could choose a plant instead of an animal, what would you choose for your plant sign?
Who or what would you put on a postage stamp?

Toque's questions:

If you could eat only one kind of food for the rest of your life, what would it be?
Do you wash your hands every time you use the bathroom, or only in public?
Were you a bully or bullied?
Are you willing to take a lie detector test?

Feel free to leave your own questions for politicians in the comments.

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A Banjo Player in Salt Lake City

Relating to my post on Mormon underwear, Banjo Player's travels have apparently taken her to Salt Lake City, and she has sent me some lovely photographs.  She regrets to tell me that she was unable to take a photo of any Mormon underwear, since nobody would show her theirs, but I said that's OK, we all know how secretive they are about it.

Here is the Latter Day Saints Temple from the outside.  It's kind of spooky looking.  Maybe I'll have to use this photo again on my Halloween post next year!

Here is the Mormon Tabernacle Choir rehearsal.  It's on Thursday nights, just like the OTHER choir I sing in.  Unlike the Lutheran choir, however, hundreds of people show up for rehearsals.

The view from the University of Utah's Medical Center cafeteria is way better than ours.  (It might help if ours had windows...)

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