Deviant Dispatches

*Following is a rather detailed discussion of bacteria and other gross stuff. Finish your breakfast before reading.* Dear Michael Jordan , Please be advised that I have within my possession an item that may or may not contain enough of your DNA to clone you. I suggest that you come take it away, because otherwise it may never leave the house. Back in his wild and carefree teenage years, Spousal Unit's first job was as a country club caddy , and one glorious day, he got to caddy not for you, but for your assistant. You spent several hours gallivanting across the course, whacking some balls and talking about others (of the basket/base persuasion, I'd imagine) while Spousal Unit washed your balls. He was thrilled, and understandably bragged about it to all his family members upon coming home. (This would have been more impressive to his brother, I imagine, if it hadn't also been his birthday.) But back to that DNA sample, from which we might be able to engineer a be...

For the life of me, I can't remember why there are little sparkly things on the left side of this shot. The logical answer is they're the Christmas lights, reflecting on the window. But we don't have lights hung in that pattern. Therefore, I have taken a picture of UFOs at sunset, which is a first for me. As far as I know.

Warning: Mild blasphemy ahead. Though I maintain that God likes a good laugh. At the other end of our not-too-long apartment building, in the window of a dwelling we've never seen from within, stood a yellow kayak. The lights in this window were always on. A yellow substance was always there, leaning against the window and backlit in all its glory, a glowing blob of wonder for all on the street to see. Dear Kayak, we did not know what you were at first. You were formless and unfamiliar. But in time, we recognized your shape and magnificence. We began to say hello to it every night when we came home as we pulled in the driveway. Cries of "Hello, Kayak" and "Oh my God, there it is!" echoed through the car. We were in awe of its golden splendor and its eternal watchfulness on the brief road below. One day, it was gone. A stark white wall was all that shone in that window up above. We were shocked. Had the kayak left us for other climes, more worthy subj...

Our cat Titania, adorable and sweet as she can be, really freaks me out sometimes. This usually happens in the middle of the night. Early on, she doesn't come to cuddle; she stays away until we're half asleep. Then she hops on the bed, walks up next to my back, and falls over into me as though she's lost all muscle control. Then we all fall asleep. Things are fine for the first few hours, but usually, I wake up at some point in the night. Maybe it's a loud truck passing by; maybe it's a storm. After the disturbance has passed, I notice the kitty beside me, zonked out. At least, I think she is. She's so still and so quiet that I start to get worried. She's never  this motionless - she's a little terror, running from room to room, knocking over vases and eating plants and stealing my yarn. In my sleep-addled mind, there is no good reason for her to be like this. I lift one of her legs and it just plops down beside her. And then I think that I...

Yesterday evening, after my second day in a row of writing absolutely nothing (which hasn't happened in many moons), I was so befuddled that I put a can of whipped cream in the freezer, then promptly forgot I'd done so and blamed it on Spousal Unit. Before bed, I made the mistake of asking him to open and pay his credit card bill so I could send the check in the morning. Turns out our last payment never made it to them - I have never  lost a check in the mail, so naturally, we have no record of it ever existing aside from a skipped number in our bank statement. Stress like that is a bad thing to have before bed. I had just made a cup of tea, and it stayed in the kitchen, full, all night. This came after a surprisingly jubilant afternoon and, combined with the unusual heat, made for a tossing-and-turning night. This is probably part of why I started singing Sleigh Ride in the shower this morning. It's going to be a weird day. Which is why I gave myself two little heaps...

Going Slightly Mad - Queen In the last few days, I feel like I've gotten a little crazier than usual. I've been researching viruses for the last several days, trying to understand them better so that I can write about them. The problem is, science was never my strong suit. I adore it beyond all reason, but I never got better than a B in most of my science classes. Another issue is probably in my methods - skipping from Wiki to Wiki in search of authentic sources in the reference list is a little ridiculous. I need to check out some books. My 40-hour work weeks have begun. Before this I was doing 35 a week, and that was full time. But the Mighty Overlords have put their backs into our floggings, and now I spend less time sleeping and more commuting during rush hour. I hate driving in the city.  People are idiotic behind the wheel. I do still love my job - I just didn't want to spend extra time loving it. Family matters are ... complicated right now. So I've al...

 Last night, I bought Spousal Unit two new ties. The one on the left below says "Love Your Kidneys" in many different languages. At a minimum, I was able to identify English, French, Spanish, Italian, German, Russian, Japanese, Arabic, and Norwegian. There are many others. The other tie is almost weirder. It's a diver in an old-school diving suit . And fish. As Spousal Unit and I said, it makes perfect sense for those things to be together. But not on a tie. These two will go well with his Internet/e-mail tie. He's developing the most bizarre tie collection. This tie is like Bill Gates , " 1999 " by Prince, and a windbreaker suit had a really weird nylon baby.

Last night, Spousal Unit and I saw Rising Gael play at the Stoughton Opera House . The group is originally from Wisconsin (one of the CDs we picked up was recorded in Cottage Grove), and from their witty banter on stage, it sounded like they had many friends in the audience. Spousal Unit first heard them on The Irish and Celtic Music Podcast and has loved them ever since. Their first song of the night was Nova Scotia Farewell, which is becoming my favorite song the more I think about it. Lead singer and pipe master (a.k.a. flautist) Erin Ellison has such a strong, distinctive voice - I especially love the effects when she hits the high notes in this song. Despite that, the audience was quiet early on. A little too quiet. (Can you blame them? Stoughton is full of Norwegians - we don't get rowdy unless we're instructed to.) "We're used to playing pubs," guitarist Peter Tissot announced, encouraging the audience to get into it. And that was all it took. ...

I know I did one of these posts recently, but this one has multiple layers to it. And it cannot wait, because I am excited, and I really hope someone out there can enjoy the hell out of this, too. I borrowed  The Happiness Project  by Gretchen Rubin from a friend, and it's taken me an astoundingly long time to get halfway through. That's not a comment on its readability, but rather the fact that with every five pages I read, I'm inspired to go do something that will make my day-to-day life a tiny bit happier. That, to me, is the mark of a good book. Rubin's book began as a decision to become a happier person over the course of a year. The book is divided by months of the year, and each month features a special focus, like vitality and organization, friendship, or romance. Reading someone else's indefatigable drive to improve, revitalize, and expand is very contagious, and her ideas are well researched and succinctly described. Her simple statements make you real...

Spousal Unit and I have found a new place to live, and we're moving in a month and a half! This may confuse some of you, as we are in a place already, and we are living there right now. I can see how that might be a head-scratcher. But our lease is up at the end of October on our current place, and we've decided to move out of one 'burb and into another. It's not necessarily a better small town, and we're going to miss the one we're in now. Over the past year, we've found favorite restaurants, discovered great places for walks and runs, delved into a great library, and reveled in the joy of a full wall of windows. Think they're awesome now? You should see it on a sunny day. On the other hand, we've discovered a drunk in our hallway, been surprised by the car next to ours with four slashed tires, kept the windows closed all summer because of highway traffic, and had to commute a half hour or more to work. The commute will be cut in ha...

I'm not used to working a full week, but I'm in the midst of one right now. I don't usually complain about working a "whopping" 40 hours, and I know lots of people who work more than that in a week. But my leg and back pain, combined with moving and organizing an entire bookstore, results in a sore body and sore mind. I'm so done with thinking for the week, and it's only my Wednesday. What this means is I'm not planning to think too much the rest of the week, so here, instead of witty commentaries, dry banter, and sharp analyses, you're going to get mass ridiculosity. I hope you can tolerate that for a week - I sure as hell won't have a problem with it. For example... - Here's a thneed someone knitted. A thneed, as you know, is a thing that everyone needs . - A Silly Song, featuring Larry and some pirates - A few terrible tattoos and some wonderful ones A cat picture A knitted angler fish - And a totally hilariou...

Today, I have some pretty weird stuff for you. Like this plastic, upside-down half-lobster, found on someone's front steps as I walked to work one day. Because this is Wisconsin, and of course  someone would have a lobster on their front porch. It's one of our major industries. Or cranberries. I always get them mixed up, because duh, they're both red. Here's my sister, impersonating Lady Wisconsin. (Click to enlarge; they're both pointing the same way, but Chloe does not have a badger on her head .) Here's a close-up of Lady Wis.; not bad for a dinky little camera. She totally has a helmet and a badger on her head. Or maybe a three-headed turtle. But a badger makes more sense. Which is also weird. Here's Lady Wisconsin again, on top of the capitol. Oh yeah, and Lady Forward, who thinks she knows where she's going. Which one does the government actually follow, I wonder? (Methinks it's the wrong one right now, whoever it is.) ...

Today's post is kind of bizarre because I'm running on very little sleep. Spousal Unit and I got all excited last night in our 80-degree apartment, because we thought the air had finally been turned on. So we closed all the windows and cranked it, but still didn't fall asleep till late (for us). And then we woke up at 3 a.m., realizing that it wasn't AC, but some weird form of cool air that just made it hotter for us. Finally, after camping out in the living room, hanging blankets to block the street light, and opening every single window, we got to sleep. But neither of us had more than a few hours of it. So! Here's a thing I found out about yesterday, about which I'm kinda-sorta interested and kinda-sorta pissed. The Glimpse by Claire Merle   This looks just like every other dystopian young adult book I've seen/read/heard about recently: Girl is young! Girl has a bright future in crappy society that she thinks is pretty fly! Girl is destined t...

Back when I was in grade school, my mom threw frosting at a squirrel. She absolutely loathed squirrels. (She still hates them, I'm guessing; she's just not as violent about it now.) The reason for her disgust was twofold: 1) Squirrels liked to dig in her potted plants, hiding their nuts and various other small trinkets in them. In the process, they cut through roots and even completely displaced the flowers she had lovingly planted. Our deck out back had about ten planters throughout the summer - not including the ones around the rest of the yard - so they often visited the backyard to hide their stashes. 2) These nimble little rodents always stole from the bird feeder in front of our house, which, no matter how often she greased the pole on which it stood, no matter how many squirrel-proof shields she attached, no matter what terrible spices she scattered on the ground, could not be defended. The squirrels would still make death-defying EvelKnievel jumps from ou...

There are two rather delightful places I walk past on my way to work. The first is a bar. It's one of those mysterious places that seems to be open 24 hours, or at least every time I walk by it. It's in a tiny red building, which it shares with an equally seedy laundromat. They're likely in cahoots with each other - it's just too easy to imagine an owner breaking into the dryers for a handful of coins, then spreading the wealth next door in the form of water-esque PBRs. The bar has no windows to speak of, except for the tiny one stuffed with desperate neon. A country twang resounds from the door, and all manner of creatures congregate just outside, blowing smoke into the lungs of passersby who are passersby for a reason. It's about as Wisconsin as a bar can get without also being in a corn field or surrounded by cow pies. The other place I walk by is really nothing like the bar. It's a furniture/knick-knack emporium, with classy lettering on the sign and a...

Today I bring you odd, weird, and otherwise bizarre things I found on Etsy. (Don't ask me how I found them; that will just raise awkward questions for both of us.) How weird can it get, you may ask? Weird enough that there's an entire site devoted to failed Etsy projects - it's called Regretsy . The items I found aren't from Regretsy, but they're definitely strange, unusual, odd, and... interesting. (Warning: extremely creepy doll head in this post. I'm still not over it.) For example, this lovely cat butt keychain. Cat butt keychain Comes in any color you'd like! Doubles as a Christmas ornament! (I know I want a dozen of these on my tree.) This seller has many other bizarre projects (involving less cat butt) such as plush monsters and a pattern for a crocheted aviator hat , which is truly awesome. So, props on that. And on being able to sell cat butts. I'm not so sure about this one, though. Doll face pendant Nothing says terrifyi...

This customer I'm about to describe to you was real. (Presumably, she's still real, but no longer a customer.) I have not made any of this up. As my friend Nan says, "You can't make this shit up." At the bookstore yesterday, we had an event, during which we turned off the store music and spoke quietly so as not to interrupt or disturb the authors as they spoke. Some people are just oblivious to these clues; this customer was one of them. I dub her Oblivia. She wasn't shouting, but she definitely spoke much louder than most people I know, and she was one of those who just liked to talk. Sometimes, customers don't like to ask for suggestions, for whatever reason. Instead, they just start telling you everything about themselves, and everything they've ever read, hoping you'll pick up on the clues with your incredible mind-reading abilities. Sometimes it works, but customers, please understand: we are not psychics. Most of us don't even want...

*This post has way more information about my internal organs than you may be comfortable with. Also, there's some crazy in it. Be warned.* A couple of weeks ago, I'd convinced myself that I either had cancer or a misplaced appendix. Not misplaced like, oh no, where did I leave my appendix, it was just here a second ago. Misplaced as in, possibly in the wrong spot on my body. It happened to someone I know, and my left side has felt like an angry cat is trying to claw its way out for a long time. The reason I thought it could be my appendix, after such a long time of hurt, is that an appendix can, apparently,  seal itself over before getting its toxins all up in your hizzy. Again, this happened to someone I know. So, hey, it could be both on the wrong side of my body and sealed over at the same time. Not the most likely scenario, but still possible. This pain, as I said, has been happening for a while, but only recently could I do anything about it, as we had insurance ...

Around Christmas, Spousal Unit tried to get me a book. I knew nothing about it, other than it was brand new and somehow, he'd heard of it and thought of me. I usually stay pretty aware of the awesome new books out in the world, and somehow, I had no idea what this one could be. I was especially confused when Spousal Unit said the bookstore couldn't get it - the distributors were all out of stock. What could be so unexpectedly terrific that everyone wanted it for Christmas? Finally, the book came in last week. It turned out to be what's regarded as the best Japanese science fiction novel ever written: 10 Thousand Days and 100 Billion Nights by Ryu Mitsuse. Spousal Unit heard about it on NPR . Intriguing from the start, especially because that swirl on the cover is both a galaxy and  a fingerprint. (It gets better: the cover glows in the dark. Insert squeal of delight.) The first couple of chapters are kind of slow-going. The book starts at the beginning of time, f...

Imagine that every day when Superman uses his phone booth to change, three people happen to walk by. As Clark Kent ducks in and starts ripping his clothes off, the first person strolls by. (Clarkie has apparently forgotten that duh, phone booths have glass doors.) Huh, the innocent bystander thinks. I hope that guy’s okay. Did a bee fly into his shirt? As Mr. Kent continues to get naked, the bystander wonders if maybe it was a whole swarm. Then, out steps Superman. Astounded at having seen the superhero up close and personal, Bystander #1 runs home to tell her family about the guy who got naked in a phone booth and stepped out wearing his underwear on the outside of his spandex. Bystander #2 doesn’t see the transformation, but knows Superman recently invoked the power of flight in the name of justice. He tries to make an ordinary phone call, not knowing this booth is Superman’s boudoir. Bystander #2 forgets about the call and examines the random pile of clothes, then disc...