Wednesday, March 30, 2005

remember me?

I used to write in this thing about some stuff and sometimes I put pictures in here, too.
This past month has been all about my vestibular system... doing research, going to rehab and doctors and acupuncture and finding support groups. Now I think I'm ready to let it all take a back seat and try to get on with my life, dizzy or not. But let it be known that if you have any questions about the inner ear or vestibular disorders, I'm your gal.

And on that note, let the blogging begin.

Today, during a trip to the ladies room, I noticed a sheet of paper in the stall. I actually couldn't help but notice it because it was typed in a GIANT font and taped to the door in such a way that I was forced to read it while peeing. It went a little something like this:
To whom it may concern:
It seems incomprehensible that you can't manage to flush the toilet, remove your paper, and show a little respect for the other people using this bathroom.

As a result, we have deemed the last bathroom all yours. We will be removing the toilet, since you have no regard for it's use, and drilling a hole in the floor.

Perhaps you'd be more comfortable using that since you're obviously not use to the luxuries provided here for your use.

Thank you.

I took it off the wall so I could share it with you, but not to worry, the filthy people will know what stall to use because there were plenty of copies of the same letter taped up all around the restroom.

Here are some points I would like to bring up about the note:

I was never asked if it was okay to give the last stall to the "offenders" and I'm not okay with that. I like the last stall. It's the first stall that's got to go.

If you remove a toilet would it really be necessary to drill a hole? Because from what I understand there should already be a hole there.

I'm not sure if I would include toilets as a "luxury" in the workplace. The espresso machines, maybe, I might even say that the subsidized candy machines would qualify, but I'm pretty sure a toilet is one of those things a place of business is forced to provide.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

who will sass the Donald?

I'm not sure, but now I'll have to tune in next Thursday to find out. And then afterwards, my trusty pal TiVo will capture what could either be a totally rad or a massive failure of a show. I heart Steve Carell and the original Office, so my fingers are crossed.

Monday, March 14, 2005


I just remembered I have a blog and I should put some things in it.

I went to Yosemite with 10 friends and saw some snow and trees.

Then I had a birthday and went to lunch and dinner and got all sorts of flowers and cakes. I also had a hearing test where I found out my hearing is back to normal. Then I had a party and asked people to bring mix CDs with them so we could all exchange and get some new tunes. I made a CD called Completely Inappropriate Songs for a Blind Date, it included the song Cameltoe by Fannypack. People gave me extra copies of their CDs, and that kicked ass. I also got an umbrella, some bath stuff, the first season of Arrested Development on DVD and a gift certificate to a spa.

I'll write more about all these things someday. Someday when I'm not so dizzy.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

Dinky Hocker

Since this whole inner ear thing started I've not only had problems balancing, but reading is a chore. Periodicals are pretty easy, it's the books that make me feel impaired. It's hard to focus on a page, let alone remember the last paragraph I read. So I decided that I needed to re-train myself how to read with some easier books. Lemony Snicket has done me right (thanks RM); the font is big, it's easy, witty and just plain good. Then I decided I would pick up one of my favorite books from 4th grade, Johnny Tremain. It's a history lesson about the beginning of the Revolutionary War with a hint of after-school special thrown in for good measure. I loved it so much back then that I had to have my own copy. I remember having a crush on Johnny Tremain when I originally read it. (please note that other childhood crushes involved Grover, Shaggy of Scooby Doo fame and the rabbit from Captain Kangaroo. I had a thing for non-human and fictional dudes.)
As I was close to the end of the book this morning I flipped to the last page to get my bookmark and noticed this:

Dinky Hocker Shoots Smack!? The copy of Johnny Tremain I have was printed in 1978, I had no idea that smack was so popular back then. I feel so cheated because I never knew this book existed.
People on Amazon have nothing but great things to say about it. I think I just found my next easy read.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

that's right, I watch American Idol

I like to TiVo all three nights of American Idol and watch them all in one big chunk. This way three hours of crap over three nights turns into one sitting of an hour and a ten minutes of hilarity. Through the magic of skipping commercials, lousy recaps and information on how to vote for my favorite idol contestant, the show is kind of watchable.
I noticed last week that American Idol is not even remotely based on finding the best singer, it's about cringing during the worst performance. It's about Paula Abdul's jewelry and clothing line. It's about Simon Cowell making even Alex feel uncomfortable by announcing to an attractive yet uninspiring crooner that he would like to come back in another life as her microphone.

Here's Fox's winning formula: Monday the gents sing, then Tuesday is the ladies' chance to shine, finally on Wednesday they find the most humiliating way to eliminate four young hopefuls throughout the hour. An hour. An hour of tears and embarrassment. The elimination information used to be tagged on to the end of whatever show was on Fox at 9pm the night following everyone singing their guts out. But now it's an hour. It's a circus of degradation with Ryan Seacrest as the ringmaster. Last week he was the ultimate puppet master as he had all the contestants stand up, then sit down, then get in line single file, then sit down again... all the while giving them the illusion they weren't getting the boot. Then just as some sucker started to crack a smile of relief, Ryan would pounce on that sucker and tell him his career was done.

Once super-glamorous Ryan tells someone they're eliminated he follows up by getting all up in their face and asking them how they feel. Obviously, it doesn't feel good, so we get to hear (through choked back tears) about how shocking and sad the news is. Then the worst part comes, he asks the derelict to sing the song that got their ass voted off. "Just one more time, for your fans." Never have I seen such sad performances. There's nothing like watching some bitter young woman try to squeeze out the lyrics "So twiddley dee, twiddley dum / Look out baby 'cause here I come" through her misery. Now that's good watchin'.

Here are five songs which I would really love to hear on the Idol, but probably never will:
Bad Girls - Donna Summer
Maneater - Hall and Oats
Get Out of My Dreams (and Into My Car) - Billy Ocean
Hell is for Children - Pat Benetar
Love in an Elevator - Aerosmith