Neurotic Moment 1

You know when you’re concentrating realllllly hard on doing something correctly and the act of being so very serious about what you’re doing and so very committed to doing it right zeros you in to the point where the slightest distraction can scare you out of your skin?

I was going to get a cup of tea before I settled down to write something earlier, and the mug was NEARLY full of hot, tea-ed, creamed and sugared yumminess, but I thought I’d put just a touch of cold water in to get it to a drinkable temperature a smidge faster. So I place it under the cold water tap of the water cooler, and get it as close as possible to the spigot so the water doesn’t have far to fall. You know, to minimize splashing. And I push ever-so-slightly on the water trigger, and a little bit trickles out and it’s just the perfect amount and then:

GWWWWW OW BOBBLE!

The noise of a giant air bubble in the water bottle frightens me so from my intense concentration that I slam the mug against the back splash of the cooler and spill it everywhere.

Nice. Just really superbly done.

Neurotic Moment 2

This evening we went to watch some friends play in a band. I happen to carry ear plugs in my purse at all times (perhaps that in and of itself is neurotic moment #2 and I should now move on to #3). This is because:

1. I was born 87 years old. We know this. It has already been discussed.
2. I am already deaf. I do not feel a need for new depths of deafness.

So, I have these in my purse because I never remember to bring them to a concert, and impromptu outings to concerts are a fact of life.

So the band’s about to start, and I pull out of my purse a tightly packed baggie with a bit of white stuff in a corner. It’s folded neatly over itself a number of times, and bound with a rubber band. Cute little crack baggie.

Except that white stuff? It’s my earplugs.

So, I am aware of this and sometimes I wonder whether someone will try to boot me out of the club for suspicious activity because they look over at the wrong time – when I’m carefully unwrapping my baggie. But that’s fine. I don’t ACTUALLY carry crack on me, so this wouldn’t be a problem.

Except tonight we’re at the boy’s place of employment, and I’m thinking…what if one of his coworkers looks over at the wrong time? Not that they’d necessarily care if I had a bag of weed, but to flaunt it so indiscreetly – it’s rude and puts their establishment in danger. But what if they felt obligated to let me get away with it because I’m dating a coworker? And then they’d just stew and hold a grudge against him for no reason?

Yes, the answer to your question is that I do, in fact, think this needlessly hard about nearly everything. The answer to your second question is yes, it is, in fact, exhausting.

And so here I am, nervously pulling my package out of my pocket, eyes darting back and forth to check for possible surveillance, and my earplugs have BECOME a narcotic for the moment as I try to jam my hand in the bag before anyone notices…

Conclusion

And that is why I am considering joining a cult. Or at the very least a zealot-ous sect of some major religion.

Ok. So it is getting old because it really should be no big deal. Fine. But since everyone else already weighed in and talked about it and talked about people who were talking about it et cetera ad infinitum, I’m going to have my go as well.

Here’s the thing. I am totally on the liberal train. I adore Jon Stewart. It’s fun to watch him deliver a good punch to Liars and Evil (occasionally and dangerously considered synonymous with “Conservative”). And I’m pretty sure there is some Evil happening with this Cramer guy; indeed it’s hard to think otherwise with the fabulous videographic dirt that Stewart dug up.

But it doesn’t mean there’s a halo on the other side of the table.

Why?

Well, for starters, it’s really easy to kick someone on your own show – you have all the prep materials and home field advantage. But I will concede that this is just one of the ways of the world. Fine.

Still, how can you make someone sit and watch embarrassing footage of himself looking like an asshole in front of the whole country, and then when he attempts to stand up for himself (however misguided his attempts may be), chide him for making this all about him when it isn’t. That’s a really cheap shot.

And the whole schtick about being a snake oil salesman who sells his goods as properly labeled snake oil is equally disconcerting. Labeling yourself as snake oil would mean that you are sure to convey to your audience that what you sell is false. Yes, the Daily Show is an entertainment program. But, at the same time, it is doubtless that Jon Stewart would be embarrassed if he found he had reported a fact that turned out to be false. It is doubtless that he knows the information he broadcasts is believed. He is aware of the fact that people might rely on his reporting as credible, even if the reporting style is light on its feet. Don’t try to tell me Jon Stewart thought of his conversation with Cramer as anything but serious. It’s the mother lode of cop-outs to then turn around and absolve yourself of any responsibility by saying that you are only joking. And we all know how I feel about taking responsibility for things.

What do you think?

Ice nine!

1. This article is a gas. Quite literally. And I’m thinking it should be kept a secret because otherwise all the men who would have been aided by this drug will go flaccid at the thought of fart-induced erections.
2. This is just creepy. Bleeding from the mouth. Gross. And it got me to thinking about what it must have been to be alive during the plague. Can you even imagine? I believe there may be places in the world today where people live under similar circumstances, but here in the cushy bubble where we live, it’s just impossible to imagine. The idea that (conservatively estimating) one third of the people you know would die – and die suddenly is just mind boggling. Our personal philosophies would have to shift so drastically to accommodate that kind of reality that it’s hard to even hazard to guess how different we would be…

That is all but for one question of the day: I was at a coffee shop this weekend looking at the magazine rack and I took a gander at Adbusters. Except that Adbusters comes in a plastic sheath so I could only see the front and back covers. And I could SWEAR there was an honest-to-goodness advertisement on the back. Was I duped or has someone gone mad? If you have the answer, please take a moment to comment because I will not be able to sleep until I find out if indeed the culture jamming headquarters has sold out, which would be simultaneously ironically hilarious, and utterly sadtimes.

1. One of the companies we use for court reporting sent us a double-decker box of See’s chocolates for Valentine’s Day. Only about half of our (exceedingly small) office was in, and after about three hours, it looked like this:

2. I just found out that a girl I grew up with recently competed in the Miss America pageant.

3. The geek’s cool tool.

4. Takin’ it old-school.

5. Pyimpin: