I Pity The Fool

I have not posted to this blog since last fall, for a variety of reasons.  I guess it’s partly because I’m mostly on Facebook now.  It’s also because I feel like I’m in a new phase in my life, and I sort of wanted a change…but in the meantime, haven’t gotten around to actually starting a new blog or figuring out how to export/import old stuff from IPTF.  To be honest, I’m not sure I want to.  Like I said, my life is different now.
That said, tonight I posted something lengthy, which is in fact rather in keeping with the old stuff and the general crotchetiness of IPTF.  It’s about a coworker of mine, and I thought I couldn’t post it on Facebook because someone else she knows might see it.  To be honest, I have been working on decreasing the negativity in my life, and probably should not be posting this up at all…however, I just really felt the need to get it off my chest.  Initially, I posted it here, and it was called Knowing Me Better Than I Know Myself? …however, I just learned how to put it on Facebook, and just restrict the selection of people who are able to read it. So that’s where it is.  I guess, let me know if you want to read it but you aren’t on Facebook- I can send it to you.

Thanks for your readership.

(Help, I’m in a nutshell!  How did I get into this nutshell?  What sort of shell has a nut like this?!?)

My score on The 3 Variable Funny Test:

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    the Wit
    ((61% dark, 34% spontaneous, 15% vulgar))

your humor style: CLEAN | COMPLEX | DARK

You like things edgy, subtle, and smart. I guess that means you’re probably an intellectual, but don’t take that to mean pretentious. You realize ‘dumb’ can be witty–after all isn’t that the Simpsons’ philosophy?–but  rudeness for its own sake, ‘gross-out’ humor and most other things found in a fraternity leave you totally flat. I  guess you just have a more cerebral approach than most. You have the perfect mindset for a joke writer or staff  writer.Your sense of humor takes the most thought to appreciate, but it’s also the best, in my opinion.

You probably loved the Office. If you don’t know what I’m
talking about, check it out here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/theoffice/.

PEOPLE LIKE YOU: Jon Stewart - Woody Allen - Ricky Gervais

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Take it!
http://www.okcupid.com/tests/17565214125862764376/3-Variable-Funny

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Well, if that’s not me, I don’t know what is.

Sorry, I couldn’t resist.  It *does* smell like caulk in here but that’s only funny when you say it out loud.
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Did I mention that it never rains, but it pours?
In other news, does anyone remember how concerned I was about notifying the NYC Board of Elections of my change of address, to make sure my voter registration would be switched?  I did that about two months ago, but then when I didn’t hear back from them, I also made a point of changing it on the optional "voter registration" section of the driver’s license renewal form last month at the DMV.  A week or so before Election Day, I got a notice in the mail that I can now vote at P.S. 85 on 31st Street (about 4 blocks from my new digs).  Incidentally, I actually didn’t vote this week (first time since my first year of college, when I didn’t get an Absentee Ballot in the mail)…there were no major contests this year, and I don’t know anything about the local Queens elections…just wanted to be sure to vote in the upcoming presidential primary.  But I digress.
The part of the story that is even remotely amusing is that tonight (two days after Election Day), I came home to five (yes, FIVE!) copies of my Board of Elections Transfer Notice.  So now, do I get to vote five or six times?
What if I could prove that I’m five or six times smarter than the average voter…?
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The Squeaky Wheel Gets the Grease
Sometimes the squeaky wheel actually does get the grease.  I called up Time Warner yesterday because there was distortion in my sound and picture.  A coworker later noted the distinct possibility that this was related to my window replacement…however, this was not mentioned in my customer service call.  "Amanda" (who said she has indeed been working for TWC for awhile..upon probing, 3 months) instructed me to reboot the system…i.e., again, since I’d just done this.  But then, she voluntarily gave me a month’s worth of my choice of premium channel…for free!  I chose The Movie Channel-On Demand…while I haven’t had much time for TV in the past month or three, I guess even if I get to watch one free film that I might be embarrassed to rent in public, it’s a boon.
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It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas!
They put up the street decorations on the day after (or even possibly the night of) Halloween.  The shops were already putting out the holiday paraphernalia weeks ago…even the former Tower Records on Broadway and 4th is a temporary Toys’R'Us for Christmas.
Incidentally, I’m quite looking forward to seeing lovely holiday displays in the UK this December…and almost equally as excited to see if they will be kitschy, the more ridiculous the better.
But once again, I digress.
I wanted to share an anecdote about another one of my students.  In one breath, he told me that he is concerned about impressing his girlfriend’s parents (she is in college, he is in JAIL)…then not five minutes later, he’s describing his "right hand mans" to me as essentially a remorseless sociopath, who one time picked a discarded Christmas tree up off the street TO BEAT SOMEONE WITH IT.  My student appeared to see nothing especially wrong with this story.  It reminded me a bit of that portion of "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn" (truthfully, the only portion of that book that I’ve ever actually read) in which the protagonist and her little brother want to get a Christmas tree at the last minute.  Poor kids could get one for free on Christmas Eve, if they were able to remain standing while the vendor chucks it at them.  Except in the jail version of the story, there wasn’t anything that could be considered a happy ending.
And speaking of my favorite holidays…
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I’m with Rick James, bitches!


For Halloween this year, I succeeded once again in constructing a costume using only clothes and makeup that I already owned (cf. zombie camp counselor, ‘06).  I was supposed to be Meg White from t
he White Stripes.  However, a fair number of my older associates (and people on the train) are not familiar with such things…so I told them, "I could also be a candy cane."
One or two people suggested that I might be a barber pole…and, judging by their facial expressions upon passing by me on the street, the good people of Astoria, Queens appeared to take me for a Satan-worshipper.  By the way, I am completely aware of the fact that I look nothing like Meg White…with or without the facepaint.  But hey, that’s what Halloween is all about, right?

(alternate title: I Have a Bone to Pick with You)

I’m eating leftover fish, from Saturday dinner out with my parents at a local restaurant where I could not otherwise have afforded to eat.  Can I just say how glad I am to NOT have found the part with bones still in it while I was there?  Although I’m aware that it’s in incredibly poor taste to sit at the table with a disturbed facial expression, methodically parsing out the tiny bones inside my mouth, carefully pulling them out, and leaving them on the side of the plate…and although I know that many people eat little bones (hey, it’s calcium!) and do not die…I am thus far mentally incapable of letting them go down.  Of course, I would be embarrassed if people saw me doing this at a restaurant…though I’m clearly not too embarrassed to tell all of you.

No, not because I’m actually giving thanks.
It’s because I had a craving for a "Thanksgiving sandwich" all afternoon at work; since the one I ate a few weeks ago was from a restaurant upstate in High Falls, of course I had to compromise.  So I wound up stopping by the locally famous Neptune Diner on Astoria Blvd., on my way home from PM school.  Since I started working two afternoons per week at the adult females’ facility, I have been treating myself to dinners out on those days.  I bypassed the hot open sliced turkey sandwich in favor of "roast turkey with dressing* and cranberry sauce," which also comes with your choice of potato (mashed!), vegetable (broccoli!), and soup or salad (cream of mushroom!).  And as if that weren’t enough, the turkey comes served on a bed of STUFFING, which I love.  I finished the soup, but only ate about a third of the other stuff.  I anticipate that it will take me all week to get through it, but it’s a happy battle.  It also highlighted my distance from certain of my countrymen (and -women), or at least their skyrocketing obesity rates…I’m sure that some people would consider that a normal portion, and even my dad probably could have polished it off.  Instead, I had them wrap up the leftovers and throw in a piece of cheesecake-to-go, for later.  After an unusually long hunt for a parking spot that won’t be illegal in about 12 hours, I arrived home…I’m eating half of the cake slice right now, with a nice cup of tea.  My little apartment is cozy and warm, and I’ve rebooted the cable box.  Time for a quiet evening in.

*by dressing, they mean gravy!

This morning, instead of reporting to Jail School, I was sent as our representative to a special training on new regulations for reporting child abuse.  That’s even less fun than it sounds, by the way…and don’t bother to guess how many people made the joke about, "Child abuse training?  Oh, is that where they teach you how to really teach those kids a lesson?" (paraphrasing…slightly…).  Anyway, as nice as it sometimes can be to get a change of scenery, this definitely would have been more appealing if a) I still lived in Brooklyn, since it was about 5 to 10 minutes away from my family’s house on the train, but 45 minutes away from my current apartment and required me to transfer; b) I could have had a nice, quick, 9 to 12 workday instead of being scheduled to work evening school back on the island from 3 to 6; c) it were on a subject slightly less depressing than child abuse and/or more engaging than using technology unavailable at my workplace.
Anyway, despite having caught an extra 40 minutes or so of sleep, I found myself starting to doze off before even the first hour of the 9 to 12 presentation had passed.  I normally don’t drink regular coffee anymore, but decided that it was too embarrassing that another attendee had already had to prod me in order to get me to pass a handout along our row.  I scooted down to the building’s lobby to buy a snack and a large coffee…this is where I went wrong.  I was okay for the rest of the presentation, even though they were still only on page 5 (of 17!) on the handout by 11:30, and showed no signs of stopping by 12:30.  I was scheduled to meet my parents for lunch at 12, and had called them to say come a half hour later.  Other people must have had plans too, because I’m not the only one who wound up leaving while the speaker was still pressing along.
By the time my parents and I sat down in the restaurant, I had begun to feel irritable, jittery, and distracted…not unlike certain experiences during my high school days of yore, back when caffeine was not the only substance I was mishandling.  Since I didn’t want to come off as obnoxious or ill, I mentioned the coffee issue.  My mom suggested I eat some plain bread, while I thought drinking extra water might be helpful.  Consuming both of these did little to reduce the growing similarity between me and a certain, hypercaffeinated South Park character.
By the time I did eventually make it to PM school, I was crashing…having been cold on the train, nauseated on the horribly jerky busride, and suffocated by the cigarette smoke of the person who drove me from one part of the island to the other…also, by the time I went home, I had probably peed about six times.  Still, that’s one way to make it through a dreary, extended workday in the rain…
Aaargh!

P.S. I haven’t been posting much because I’m tired of my own whining.  I do have a couple of funny anecdotes from recent events, but can never think of the best phrasing when sitting in front of the ol’ computer.

This is from the lyrics to an Andrew Bird song called Tables and Chairs:

if we can call them friends then we can call them on their telephones
and they won’t pretend that they’re too busy or that they’re not alone
[a bunch of other lines]
and we were tired of being mild
we were so tired of being mild…

Originally, I thought the words were, "tired of being right…tired of being wrong…tired of being right."  Either way, I guess it still applies, since I am tired of all those things…
I haven’t written on this blog in a long time.  Sometimes I think about it, wondering if whatever recent mundane event or amusing anecdote would be worthy of my reader(s?) time and attention.  Other times, I feel like all I do is complain, and the most relevant people have heard it all anyway.
The past month or so have brought events both great and small…mainly small, though.
I’ve continued to explore my new neighborhood…now with the aid of a small, toylike automobile, which I purchased approximately two weeks ago.  I decided that I was too dependent on other people from work for rides.  Of course, now it still may be two months before I get a parking pass, but in the worst case scenario, I can drive to the visitor parking lot and try to get a ride (or wait for the bus) over the bridge.
I had a variety of guests in town, though most of them didn’t stay with me…much celebration with food and drink has helped me ignore the fact that I am still alone, despite all attempts half- and full-hearted to the contrary.
Two of my coworkers hooked up at the table during a recent drunken birthday party.  The only other person who knows, besides me, is of course the famous and previously-mentioned C-of-I.  In fact, it was his birthday, together with someone else who had left by then, and earlier in the week I had made them a cake and brought them presents.  As much as it delights me to come off as so nice, charming, thoughtful, and sweet…at the same time, I mentally kick myself for being abject, servile, debased, and doormat-like.  My genuine good-birthday-wishes were no less sincere, but I need to tone down the favors if these feelings remain unrequited.
Adding more fuel to the confused and mixed messages fire, I learned that C-of-I himself expressed the wish to have hooked up with someone…presumably your humble narrator, since I was the only other female there.  Yet since that time, he continues to avoid spending any time alone with me that isn’t during lunch or our daily commute.
Of course, I have more people on my side…but this is a cold comfort…there are rumors that he may have been set up with yet another girl from Long Island…to which I responded by attempting to meet new people on my own.  So far, the success rate is low…but I am trying not to be too discouraged.
In the meantime, the one person at work who I feel really knows me is now consumed with her new Secret Lover…they are together every day after work, when she and I used to hang out.  In some ways, it’s a blessing in disguise, since she actually hasn’t been so nice all the time to me lately.  On the other hand, now I have no more work buddy…unless you count the amount of time I spend at work trying to help her, and occasionally getting yelled at.
I’m starting to feel like this blog post is getting whiny and pointless.  I was originally going to add in some funny notes to myself that I unearthed today, but maybe I’ll save them for a cheerier overall post.  Hope all is well with everyone else…and for those of you who are worse off than I am, I want to be helpful and sympathetic- some days I am more so than others.  You know who you are.
To everyone else, sorry for being cryptic.  Bye for now.

This morning, all within spitting distance of the corner at Ditmars and 31st Street, I saw literature-bearing representatives from:

• Affinity Health Plan
• LaRoache/PAC
• Jehovah’s Witnesses.

And I thought my neighborhood rocked just because I can walk to get Greek, Italian, Colombian, Czech, Thai, or Japanese food!
You see why they say Astoria is the most diverse square mile on earth?  Word.

Here’s my favorite thing that happened all week.
I’ve picked up two classes’ worth of counseling cases, now that (as some of you know) I’m no longer doing the testing that occupied about 90% of my time last year.  Yesterday was the first day that I really got into the mix.  Some students take counseling seriously, and even discuss deep issues and decision-making processes; others sit down, and when asked how I can help them, they shrug and say, "Counsel me!"
One student was going on and on and on about all the robberies he’s committed over the years.  He talked about how he thinks he should probably stop robbing people, because that can be dangerous(!)…if you rob the wrong person, they might hurt you, or even try to kill you (no mention was made about other people’s rights or any other aspect of the morality question)!  He continued by telling me, "I’ve never been hurt, pray God, no one’s ever tried to kill me, pray God," etc., etc., pray God, pray God, pray God.
Sometimes, I just can’t help myself- the humor leaks out. 
I mentioned that it sounded like he is a religious person, to which he responded in the affirmative.  Then I said something like, "Let me just ask you a question; don’t take this the wrong way, I’m just going to put this out there…" He nodded.  I looked at him carefully, and (all intentions of remaining nonjudgmental intact) said, "Do you think God wants you to rob people?"  He had to laugh- he knew I totally had him there.  I smiled.  He acknowledged that no, God probably don’t want him to rob no people.  We talked about this a little more, though I’m not sure we’ve moved beyond general acceptance of the theoretical principle.
I told everyone at work the story, and they all got a chuckle.  Also, the other clinicians there seemed to think it was totally fine for me to give the kid a bit of a reality check…we are always told to "treat every session as though it could be the last one," since we never know if a student is going to be moved to another part of the facility (or released).  While it’s important to be nonjudgmental (and more or less nondirective), it’s also important to be authentic in the relationship.  And I guess for me to be authentic, it requires a joke (half-serious or not) here and there…

1. Sedate my landlady’s obnoxious little dog.
2. Sedate my landlady’s obnoxious little kid.
3. Sedate my landlady.
4. Stealth laser sterilization gizmo (with optional "painless!" feature).