I talked to my mother tonight, and she offered me the embroidered handkerchief that she carried when she married my father. I was really surprised since they have been divorced (and not in a way where they are still particularly civil to each other) since I was eight. It meant a whole lot to me--especially since I would have thought such a thing would have been burnt in effigy over a decade ago.
Thanks, Mom, for adding something beautiful to an arduous day of expensive and inconvenient car repairs, painful transitions and partings, e-mails from random internet orifices, and overall exhaustion.
And thanks to Ann, Little Man, and Conservative Son for turning my evening around (even though they may not have known that's what they were doing).
The car's not back yet, but, hey, I'm getting emails from this guy!
Keep in mind, that I never signed up for his e-mailings in the first place.
In the summer of 2004, I found myself getting e-mails about local community events, politics, and what-not. I used their automatic e-mailing removal doohickey, and it didn't work. I e-mailed a direct request to be removed from further e-mails which received a rather unfriendly response, but I didn't think much of it.
Fast forward to last week. Last week, I got another e-mail from them. I followed their emailing removal procedure again, which can be found in the e-mails but NOT immediately off the front page of the site, and again thought not much of it. Then, I got another e-mail a couple of days later. I did the little auto-procedure again, and e-mailed the webmaster to remove me from the list.
What follows is the e-mail trail of ridiculousness. All of these have happened today, excluding my first e-mail requesting removal. You'll note the little snotty jibes and jabs over my automatic e-mail signature. The spelling has also been preserved for you, my gentle readers. And, yes, he did sign everything "Webmaster" (whereas other titles I've simply changed to protect...well...those involved).
E-mail #1 From: Oso Sent: Mon 5/28/2007 7:00 PM To: The Guy Subject: Stop It
Please stop e-mailing me. I have removed myself from your list at least three times that I can remember, and I am sick of it.
***************** Oso del Sol My Law School Class of 2008
From: The Guy Sent: Wed 5/30/2007 7:05 AM To: Oso Subject: Re: Stop It
Well if you are sick take two aspirins and try again in the morning.
Webmaster Real World Medicine & Law Class of 65
From: Oso Sent: Wed 5/30/2007 8:05 AM To: The Guy Subject: Re: Stop It
Cute, but does that mean I'm off the list? Because I haven't lived in Florida in six years and am not moving back in the foreseeable future.
***************** Oso del Sol My Law School Class of 2008
From: The Guy Sent: Wed 5/30/2007 10:21 AM To: Oso Subject: RE: Stop It
We have thousands of reader not living in Florida. If you wish to be removed from a mailing list, you need to follow the automatic removal instructions included with each mailing.
These automatic removal instructions were designed and tested in a public school 3rd class. The entire class passed the testing procedures. If you have trouble understanding the instructions, you need to add "Democrat in Training" to your signature line.
Oso del Sol Democrat in Training My Law School Class of 2008
If I were you, I would simply ask my adult supervisor how to enter my Email and click the submit button. That would save you a lot of personal embracement in later life.
From: Oso Sent: Wed 5/30/2007 10:42 AM To: The Guy Subject: RE: Stop It
I've followed the instructions 3 different times. It is not my fault that your system doesn't work. If I get another gulf1 e-mail, I'm going to be contacting the Better Business Bureau and any other proper authorities towards ending the abuse and harassment.
**************************************** Oso del Sol My Law School Class of 2008 E-mail #6
From: The Guy Sent: Wed 5/30/2007 11:07 AM To: Oso Subject: RE: Stop It
Have fun, however you will be substantially more successful by correctly using our "working" automatic removal instructions.
As a future liberal Democrat lawer, you need to realize that the Better Business Bureau has absolutely no capability to solve your problem.
As for the "proper authorties," you need to contact Algore. Afterall he created the Internet with Hillary's help. :-)
Keep trying you will get there...........
The upshot of all of this is that I spent a bit today talking to and e-mailing the nice people down at the Florida Attorney General's office.
My father announced with the death of the transmission that the next big car repair is on me. I'm thinking that the next big repair is going to come before I can afford it to. I've also got no money to fall back on if some big emergency does come along. So, what to do?
I think I'm going to sell my car and buy a Vespa. My car can't leave town now anyway, so I might as well not have a whole car. I could take the rest and put it into savings. Goodness knows I'd save on gas!
I realize this is an old game and its third incarnation is about to come out, but dang this was fun! It was challenging, fun to look at, and had a great soundtrack and excellent replay value. The only complaint? Too short. But again with the replay value.
The Plot: You roll your giant sticky ball around and things stick to it. Things like cows and penguins. Eventually buildings.
Why would you do this? To make stars out of your giant piles of stuff. Duh!
Not that anyone wants me to share, but dead mousie apparently came out from under cover to die, so I've had mousie corpse rotting in my garden out in the open. Fiance asked me where today, and when I went to show him, we discovered that now we are down to mousie skeleton.
So here's something Oso doesn't understand Oso wants to talk about it. Oso's lack of understanding leads her to the third person.
Oso will stop that now.
So here's a little thing I don't get: The people who became sort of pirate groupies when the Pirates movies came out. I get Johnny Depp groupie-dom, don't get me wrong. I understand appreciating them as entertaining movies on the order of The Mummy. What I don't get is the culty following they've developped and how seriously they can take themselves.
Example: A good friend of mine tattooed the above on her ankle because she just loved Pirates. She thought it was one of the best movies of all time. There is a certain indefinable ascribing of inherent value by her to the whole concept of pirates, and I just don't get.
What I know is that pirates killed people and stole their money. There's a lot more fun history running around in there about English and Spanish animosities and more fun stuff, but the real people weren't so much heroes, and I really had a hard time feeling any sort of empathy for anyone in the movie. Even the movie pirates are running around stealing stuff from each other and killing for it--it's not all the victimless crime of treasure-hunting, folks.
I know it doesn't really matter on any way that affects my everyday life, but the tattoo above represents an ignorance that just really makes me want to go all Walden on the masses. That certain indefinable something that leads people to enshrine a symbol of criminality and violence in permanent ink on their skin just really gets me, that's all.
Well, I'm not going to write an actual review for this, since you can find plenty others elsewhere, but I will endorse it and say you should go see it. It was a good mindless three hours. That being said, I will say that it is not going to change your life unless you are one of those hardcore pirate diehard types.
And you really should bring some refreshments and a catheter in with you.
I noticed today that I've been added to the blog list over at Osler's Razor, the (original, English-speaking) author of which is pictured above. Which one is he, though? Anyway, I've returned the favor and added the Razor to my side blog linky bloggy doomaflatchie.
In other news, my baby car's transmission died and had to be towed out of the parking lot of the law school. It's about seven years old with 80,000 or so miles on it, so I know it was time, but that doesn't make it any easier. Fiance is leaving on Wednesday and going back to his hometown to live with his brother and search for a primo job. Or any job. Any job would be good.
Ursa's already left to go to law school in another part of the country (thence the scarcity of her posts what with the finishing up of the masters and law school application process and all), so as of next week I will move into yet another phase of life here in University town.
Good thing tutoring starts Tuesday so I'll be able to keep nice and busy.
My other original mousie is dead (Holly). She looked pretty bad when I got home from school, so I took her outside to enjoy the nice sunshine and fresh air before the inevitable. She was dead before the sun even went down.
I don't think I'm going to replace her. They are supposed to be social creatures in need of companionship, but (1) establishing a new pecking order may kill them anyway and (2) Kendra seems to be doing fine on her own. If she starts to pine, I think I may just let her out too. Introducing a new mousie to the habitat is way stressful, and she really seems to be happy not to be sharing the wheel.
I think I may be starting another kidney stone. I have had a persistent, dull ache in my side for the last thirty minutes or so, and that is how the last one started. I'm hoping it is just digestive, but I may be hoping for too much. Either way, I don't think my 9 AM class is going to be happening tomorrow.
New highs/lows in the inappropriate use of the party have been achieved. Monday night at 11:30, the cheering/stepping began in the parking lot by the girls for the boys on the balcony. I went outside and requested quiet, and, not receiving it, I then called the campus coppers again around midnight. They dispersed the girls.
Then, something unexpected happened: Upstairs Neighbor came downstairs and apologized. He also specified that he had nothing to do with the parking lot people. The most interesting tidbit was that he mentioned that Management left him a notice that if he has any more noise calls that he is getting evicted.
I think I have won my battle. A little respect and some quiet was all I asked for, and I think I will get it now.
So I should provide ten interesting facts about myself.
1. I have a somewhat colorful employment history for someone my age. I've worked as a full-time babysitter, deputy county clerk, day camp counseller, bank teller, content writer for a webpage (like, the words, not the HTML), peddler of sorority crafts, professor's assistant, tutor to student-athletes, reservations associate in a luxury hotel, computer lab assistant, and sales associate at Pier1. 2. I'm in love with a pair of camouflage sweatpants from Walmart originally purchased as part of a white trash Halloween costume. Fiance hates them and would burn them if he could. 3. I did laundry in my bathtub last week and forgot what would happen when they needed to be dried. 4. I change my hair color more than once a year. 5. I watch Newlyweds every time I get a little down or a little procrastinatory. Or a little anything, for that matter. 6. I was told in a dream during my first quarter by Professor Civ Pro that I would never be on law review and that it was okay. 7. I just took down my Christmas tree last week. 8. I speak too many languages. English, French, Spanish, and Arabic. Reading knowledge of Latin. 9. I'm still dating my two favorite dogs, Boudreaux the Peke and Little Man the chocolate lab, even though I'm getting married to someone completely else. 10. I was born in this state, grew up 700 miles away, and came back here for college, law school, wedding, and legal licensing.
Remember the part of the rant about upstairs neighbor that included his chronic littering offenses? Well, now I'm getting...mail...about it.
We have little clips installed next to our doors for Management to leave us notices and things. I came home at midnight tonight to a folded missive in mine, reading as follows:
"Please do not throw chicken bones in the grass. It is very dangerous for pets to eat them. Thanks, dog owners @ Apartment Complex"
1. I don't eat chicken with bones. 2. How did you decide on me? The fact that you never see me might suggest that I don't come outside to throw away my chicken bones. 3. Try upstairs neighbor. He's in a steady state of throwing, leaving, and otherwise contributing shit to the yard. 4. Don't use my clip for anonymous letters on behalf of a whole class of people in the apartment complex. They are for managerial use. 5. Well, aren't you effective, doing this on your own instead of going through management. Looks like you informed no one, caught no one, and communicated your plea to no one that mattered to your cause. Must've been a full day's work. 6. I have stooped to posting a note in my own clip. Screw you for being so immature as to inspire in me similar behavior. 7. I am displeased.