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Look, Cox, I know how the world operates, and I’m not out to bust anybody’s chops. But don’t push me, okay?

You know, if someone says to you “I’m not trying to bust your chops, Jodi, but…” most likely, they are, indeed, trying to bust your chops. One way to tell; if they proceed to bust said chop from four different angles, four different directions, before making their final chop busting blow. So you get to sit and hear it for four times as long, before you can defend your chop. You and everyone else. Of course, this may all depend upon you being named Jodi.

Don’t worry kids, I still got my chops. But I was thisclose to just yelling out “shut up shut up shut up already! i get what you are saying!! you doubt that i did a thorough job. let’s just skip to the part where i tell you that yes, i did double check and yes I am certain, ok?” Since you are not trying to bust my chops or anything.

Some of the things I am working on right now, at work, are not easy. They are complicated annoying problems that are difficult to pin down. And there are many people involved, with me in the middle. The people on the Outside are frustrated and angry. Rightfully so, but they are less cooperative now because of it. The people on the Inside, with me, are fine. Ok, sure, one of them tried to bust my chops, but like I said, I still got ’em. I’m not easily intimidated. [just easily annoyed.] We had a meeting about this one particular issue first thing this morning. Excellent time for a meeting, btw… first thing Monday morning. As I was walking out, someone not in my department who does not do my job said, “man, I feel sorry for you.”

ahhh… the comfort of pity from your coworkers.

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The kind of website I really should not have discovered at work:

Tha Shizzonator. I love translation websites. My favorite game used to be to write an email, use bablefish to translate it to french, and send it to my friend. Who would then have to translate it back. Just to see how messed up it got. I love that game.

Anyway, here is yesterday’s post after the shizzonator. I was cracking up out loud, all Dr. Stevil said was “there’s only one T in Scotland.”

Whatever!! I could play with this site all day long…. Courtesy of Drink More Jack

Maybe I’m being unfair da Scottish muthas n’ shit. ..

but I wuz driving in my hooptie an ad came on da radio fo’ some fancy guitar concert, know what I’m sayin’? Night of Guitars, I believe, know what I’m sayin’? With guitar masters from izzall over da world.” Including a Scottish Jazz Guitarist n’ shit. And I thought myself, ” Scottish Jazz Guitarist? That just does not compute, know what I’m sayin’? ” Jazz, know what I’m sayin’? …. Scottland, know what I’m sayin’? …. kilts n’ shit. .. bluegrass maybe, but jazz? I can’t picture someone discussing jazz wit a scottish brogue n’ shit. Oh well, learn something new everyday.” Being part Scottish myself, I shouldn’t be doubting da vast amounts of culture ‘n talent of my muthas.

Speaking of Scottish muthas, Louise is leaving this week n’ shit. She is going crib fo’ ten days n’ shit. Home being, of course, Scottland, land of adorable accents n’ shit. Poor Louise will be one of many adorable accents, however n’ shit. No special treatment now should brizzle happen go a book signing. Non of her Scottish friends are going make her be like “squirrel” or “fury” over ‘n over delight in da way brizzle says her r’s. Unless of course they think brizzle’s gotten an American accent, in her time here, know what I’m sayin’? I bet they do, know what I’m sayin’? I bet they izzall be like, “Oh Louise, listen yo’ adorable American accent, yo’ ass are so cute! Just like Mary Poppins, yo’ ass are practically perfect in every way.” ”

I’ll miss her of course n’ shit. . I’ll probably walk around da office izzall sad, mumbling “squiddle, know what I’m sayin’? .. squiddle, know what I’m sayin’? .. squiddle” myself n’ shit.

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Maybe I’m being unfair to the Scottish people…

but I was driving in my car an ad came on the radio for some fancy guitar concert. Night of Guitars, I believe. With guitar masters from all over the world. Including a Scottish Jazz Guitarist. And I thought to myself, ” Scottish Jazz Guitarist? That just does not compute.” Jazz….. Scottland….. kilts… bluegrass maybe, but jazz? I can’t picture someone discussing jazz with a scottish brogue. Oh well, learn something new everyday. Being part Scottish myself, I shouldn’t be doubting the vast amounts of culture and talent of my people.

Speaking of Scottish people, Louise is leaving this week. She is going home for ten days. Home being, of course, Scottland, land of adorable accents. Poor Louise will be one of many adorable accents, however. No special treatment now, should she happen to go to a book signing. Non of her Scottish friends are going to make her say “squirrel” or “fury” over and over to delight in the way she says her r’s. Unless of course they think she’s gotten an American accent, in her time here. I bet they do. I bet they all say, “Oh Louise, listen to your adorable American accent, you are so cute! Just like Mary Poppins, you are practically perfect in every way.”

I’ll miss her of course.. I’ll probably walk around the office all sad, mumbling “squiddle… squiddle… squiddle” to myself.

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tarot

Tarot Collection

I was discussing Tarot cards, down below, with River Selkie, and I thought I’d list off the decks I own in my collection. Not all of them are traditional tarot. Some I got as gifts, the rest I bought because something about the artwork appealed to me. I don’t read cards for other people, I barely read them for myself. But when I do, it’s the Voyager Tarot I use. I’ve attended many workshops taught by the creator of this deck. And I’ve forced upon him many of my friends for readings. Which I am sure he enjoyed as my friends are all unique and special little flowers.

Besides the Voyager, I think my next favorite is the phantasmagoric theatre tarot. But we’ll see how that stacks up the Housewives Tarot, once it arrives. Because those cards are pretty swell. The Victoria Regina just blew my mind when I saw it, I had not purchased a deck in a long time, until I found that one. I could spend days just looking at those cards, there is so much detail, and so many things hidden within them. You can see images from almost every deck in existence at aeclectic.net. Except for the rare and infamous Edward Gorey Tarot. Man would I love to have that deck.

Shakespearian Tarot [no image]

Morgan’s Tarot [no image]

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Let’s stop talking. We’re about to bond. It’ll make me vomit.

I made up a word the other day, and it’s genius. When I told it to Evildeb, she agreed, and then we made another genius world. And it’s all because of chatting.

Fee and I were chatting the other night. She had just been given a new ergo keyboard. It’s this crazy thing where the keys are actually concave in the board. Like two little bowls. With keys in them. Actually, here it is, if you want to see it. Needless to say, this was affecting her typing. She was getting frustrated, but I was having fun. Trying to figure out what she was saying. It was actually kinda cute.



That is Fee explaining to me that, either If She Can’t Type, She Can’t Get Carpal; or that If She Wants to Type, She Can’t Get Carpal.



Now she is explaining to me that she is going to be training on her day off, and she will ask if she will receive a comp day for that.



She’s confirming I can understand her.



She is describing someone’s appearance.



And finally, here she explaining to me that wil wheaton is having comment problem on his blog.

See? Cute. Anyway, we were chatting away, and I was describing someone’s behavior as passive-aggressive, which I abbreviated to pass/agg, creative abbreviation being the mark of a skilled chatter. But, that phrase comes up so often in my life. It might be the people I hand around with, I don’t know, but I find myself saying passive-aggressive on a regular basis. Therefore, I came up with a new word:

Passaggrive. Which is pronounced pass-AGG-rive. Genius!! Obviously, it’s a combination of passive and aggressive in one word. Saves time, saves strain on your typing fingers. Go out and use it in a sentence 10x’s today!

The next day, I was chatting with Evildeb. We were discussing how much fun it can be to work with The Man. We enjoyed him a great deal, so much, it made us want to punch him, but with affection. I don’t think there is a word to describe that feeling. Or, at least there wasn’t. Affectolence – intense, but not life threatening, physical force, used to express affection; when you want to hurt the ones you love. It’s like, when someone is so cute and funny that you want to pinch their cheeks and then maybe slap them. Little boys on playgrounds are champs at affectolence, it’s the only way for them to express their feelings to little girls.

So, remember: Passaggrive and Affectolence/Affectolent. Add them to your spell check dictionary today.

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sponge bob square pants will make you gay

You know, I don’t even watch this show. I tried to watch it with the Sweet Pea once… it’s kind of annoying. But, that doesn’t mean that James Dobson, founder of Focus on the Family, and all of his ilk, is not a total and complete idiot. He’s a sponge!!! A cartoon sponge! How can he push the gay agenda? Exactly what is the gay agenda? Remind me, because I think I forgot.

You know, when I was a kid, you didn’t see people running around worried that Snagglepuss was going to turn us gay. Do people, [and by people I mean the geniuses who are protesting a video of cartoon characters singing We Are The Family, promoting tolerance, because they think it teaches kids to be gay] have too much time on their hands? Why aren’t people just laughing in their faces? I don’t see how anyone could ever take James Dobson seriously again. The man is a paranoid loon. I’d like to demonstrate a serious lack of tolerance towards him.

I’m speechless with amazement at the stupidity of it all.

link #1 article by CNN

link #2 wearefamilyfoundation.org

link #3 the man himself, James Dobson, explains how he is protecting children. *snort*

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I shall wash, but I shant be clean.

The other morning, while I was getting ready for work, I had the radio on. I heard an ad for Tylenol Flu medication. They were giving helpful hints, of the Ounce of Prevention is worth a Pound of Cure variety. Example? Washing your hands with warm soapy water, for 30 seconds, reduces the chances of you catching the flu. Their helpful hint was this: teach your child to hum a little song while they wash their hands. That way, they will know when the 30 seconds is up.

So, the next time I washed my hands, I counted. I made it up to 12 hippopotamuses before I lost the will to wash. NO ONE can wash their hands for 30 seconds. It’s unpossible. 30 seconds is forever when you are washing your hands. I don’t even think surgeons wash their hands for 30 seconds. Forget it. Note: I do not yet have the flu.

I would think twice about teaching your kid to hum while washing his hands. The other kids will look at him funny, tease him and call him names. As he grows up, it will cease being weird and venture into creepy. Nobody likes to hear humming in the restroom.

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books

It was rude. We should go kill it.

Saturday night I went to Barnes and Noble, to see if I could lower the available balance on my B&N gift card. It was burning a hole in my pocket. Which was embarrassing. It was about 8:30 or 9, dark and pouring down rain. I parked in a section that had five parking spots in a row. On the left end spot, there was a car that was parked on the white line, on it’s right. So, dangerously close to being in the the second spot. On the far right end, there was a big fuck off SUV, parked in 1.5 parking spots. Leaving an approximate 2.5 remaining parking spots. To make things easier, I parked next to the car on the left, with just enough room to open doors. It probably put me over the white line, but since there was 1.5 parking spaces left, I figured the last car would be fine. I pulled, straightened out, and parked. I was in the store for about an hour and a half. When I came out, there was a piece of paper on my windshield. I went to remove it, but it just fell sort of … mooshed when I touched it. It had been raining the entire time, and the note had melted. I could barely read the writing. It said, “You are rude. Learn to park.” In suspiciously female handwriting.

This threw me into a state of extreme confusion. I looked at my car. The car to my left was still there, the fuck off SUV was still there, and another car was using the 1.5 parking spots I left. My car was not parked crooked. I was not parked too close to anyone’s door. What the hell did I do? You have to be pretty annoyed to go through the trouble of writing a note to leave on someone’s windshield. You’d think that they’d give it to the fuck off SUV. Or at the very least, the car on the left end of the row. But why leave it on my car?

I thought about it for awhile. Then I thought, “maybe I was rude somewhere else? maybe inside the store?” Let’s see, I went inside, browsed until I had a small armful of books, sat down in big chair and read, got up, returned books I didn’t want, got in line and paid for my books. Nope. Nothing rude. So, I scraped off the paper pulp from my windshield and said, “You want rude? Show your stupid note writing face and I’ll give you some rude, you silly bitch.” And left.

But I have to say, it bothered me for the rest of the evening. Until I started reading a piece in Time Magazine about the Science of Happiness. And I realized, the Confused Note Writing Bitch was not a happy person. And I doubt leaving that note made her any happier. And while it may have upset my lovely book buying high I had, when i walked out the store, I was comforted by the fact that I am not a Note Writing Coward like she. When I confront someone for being rude, I do it to their face. Did I ever tell you guys about the cell phone store? I don’t think I did. That’s one of my better confrontations of rudeness. Maybe tomorrow.

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