Monday, October 27, 2008

And once I figured out how to spell...


The things you learn when you don't want to read for Professional Responsibility...


Also, I found out that I know more country names than I know how to spell.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Happy something; or, slightly unsettling

So, hey, last post was number 100 (woohoo for me, I kept a blog going this long and actually have slightly more than seven readers, who also get woohoos for sticking around this long) which makes this number 101 and since I didn't commemorate the last one, I'm commemorating this one. Um. Yeah, that was the commemoration right there. (We keep things pretty simple over here at the Scritchy Nib -- which, now that I think about it, sounds like some sort of Dickensian pub -- not to mention I HAVE NO TIME even though it's been freakin' PLACEMENT BREAK for goodness sake and I still didn't get a break. Stinkin' two jobs, gosh!)

But I digress.

Mostly what I wanted to say was that I managed somehow (no, I really don't know how) to get a paper cut on the tip of my right middle finger the other day. This happens to be my mouse/trackpad finger. It doesn't hurt at all now, but it's at that slight paper cut healing stage where there's still a definite groove or bump, so when I use the trackpad or, to a lesser extent, type, it feels like I've got a small piece of grit or a crumb or something stuck to my finger. Which is slightly unsettling. And when I try to get it off it doesn't come off (which also is slightly unsettling) because it's a convalescent paper cut. Am I the only one these kinds of things happen to? And if so, is it because I'm slightly more klutzy than the next person, or is it because my life is unentertaining enough that this sort of thing becomes fascinating in comparison (read: this is the most exciting thing that's happened to me for several days), making me more likely to notice it than someone who's got more excitement in their life anyway? Inquiring minds want to know. Well, I want to know at any rate.

Okay, so I lied a little bit. The gritty paper cut thing is NOT the most exciting thing. The most exciting thing is that I finally got my ring re-plated and cleaned and all that jazz for the first time in almost two years and it is SO SHINY. And we all know how much I like shiny stuff.

Sunday, October 05, 2008

Oh, hey.

So apparently Carrie tagged me awhile back and I didn't notice until my husband pointed it out. Probably because, thinking back on it, I've never actually been tagged for one of these things before (at least that I can recall). So.

Six of my quirks (and if you're reading this, you probably already know me well enough to know all of them):

1. Lightswitches. If a room has more than one lightswitch connected to the same light, I will walk across the room, turn off the light, and then go back to the other switch and turn it on if that's what needs to be done in order for the switches to be turned in the right direction.

2. I hate washing loads of towels. I don't like doing laundry much anyway, but the towel/linen load just bugs me more than the rest. Which is dumb, really -- you don't really need to sort it and it's ridiculously easy to fold. But that's what makes it a quirk.

3. I quote stuff. Movies, commercials, TV, books, comic strips, radio shows, you name it. I can (along with most of my family) hold an entire conversation using nothing but Far Side captions. I can even quote some stuff I've never seen. This is probably due to the fact that....

4. I have a crazy-amazing memory for random and useless stuff, like where that carabiner with the Morgan Stanley logo on it that I got two years ago is, where Shallow Man left any given object at any particular time, what day I saw a given movie for the first time, what I did for Halloween 2001, movie trivia, etc. But not important stuff like what on earth was it I scheduled for Tuesday night and what is my name again?

5. I'm a serial snooze button hitter. The alarm needs to be set at least 30 minutes before when I actually want to wake up or I'll miss it from hitting snooze too many times. This is probably connected to my crazy procrastination skillz. I am a PROcrastinator. Or, as that crazy personality test I took in Mr. Ekberg's 9th grade biology class said, "You have a tendency to take on more than any one person could possibly handle and still somehow manage to get it all done." At great expense and at the last minute? Yes. But it still gets done.

6. If you're talking to me, chances are good I'm making up a story about you or the object of the conversation in my head. Okay, maybe you didn't know this one. But you do now. (Careful, you may end up in my novel.) Kind of like how I make up fake song titles for fake songs for my fake band in my head. (Which actually is now a real fake band, since there are three other people in it now. We're called the Dutiful Existentialists and I'm on lead vocals. You should totally check us out on Facebook. We're the best fake band I've ever been in.)

Um. So. Tagging. Uh... It's late and I'm feeling lazy so if you want to do this, you'll have to tag yourself. Or consider yourself tagged. Just let me know if you do it.

Wednesday, October 01, 2008


Well, the Cold of the Century is returning. (My old nemesis, we meet again...) If it hasn't quite arrived in full force yet, it's at least sending out numerous scouts to check out the lay of the land. What this means is that I'm still able to (sort of) move around and I haven't had to miss class or work (yet), but I'm still feeling pretty darn crappy and am using up enough kleenex that in the last hour alone I have probably been responsible for an entire tree or so. They do make Kleenex out of trees, right? I forget. Anyway, you get the idea.

The weird thing is that these happen to be the nicer kind of facial tissue and are chock-full of lotion and mosturizers and stuff. And by chock-full I mean that my hands are markedly softer after the half-box I've gone through. I can actually feel the lotion residue on my hands just from handling the Kleenex. I don't want to complain too hard - after all, my nose is benefitting from this and is not red and scaly and falling off my face after all the blowing. But it's kind of weird still. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer to get my hand lotion from a bottle.

And now I need to take my stuffed-up nose and soft, silky hands to bed. At this rate I'm pretty sure they won't make it to class tomorrow. Urgh.