I Pity The Fool

If I was a cavegirl living in prehistoric times, I would never have survived this long (although who knows, maybe 25 [26 in a week, ack!] was really a ripe old age back then anyway).  First off, I’m tired just from sitting in front of a computer all day.  How the hell could I have ever had the stamina to look for non-poisonous roots and berries in the hot sun all day long?  Without a hat, sunglasses, umbrella, or sunblock?

Secondly, I have terrible eyesight.  I would never have seen that sabre-toothed tiger coming until it was about to bite me in the ass.  My big fat ass that would make it a challenge to run away, outside of my messed-up knees and feet, and poor lung capacity.  No stamina.  Then, when the tiger pounced on me, my lame carpal tunnel syndrome arms would be useless to fight it off.

It’s probably a good thing I’m not living in prehistoric times, or in a cave.  Though the natural, cool airiness might provide a bit of respite from the steamy summer weather…then again, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it because I’d be out looking for freakin’ berries all day…and with my poor vision, I’m sure I’d pick the poisonous ones…so even without the tiger, I’d be right back where I started: dead!

You may be imagining that if I had grown up in a cave society, I would know better, because all my life I would have been learning how to discern which berries are poisonous, plus I would have built up my stamina from staying in the sun and running away from tigers all day.  But of course, from my 21st century perspective, it seems daunting.  It almost makes my thesis seem easy.  It sure would suck if I was living in prehistoric times as a cavegirl.

It’s probably a good thing that we don’t have time machines.

illustrated fantasy:

1.
http://www.toothpastefordinner.com/no-more-work.jpg
2.
http://www.iangilman.com/movies/run/posterbig.jpg
3.
http://www.gosai.com/science/newton/nuclear-bomb-3in.jpg

i’d insert the pictures directly into this post…only i can’t…

A bandana is one thing.  But who ever thought it looked cool to wrap a black nylon thingie around your head?  Boys, it does not make you look tough.  It does not make you look sexy.  Unless you are a pirate, a ninja, or one of those cool mystical desert guys from The Mummy movies, it is not for you.  And the white or "nude" colored ones are even sillier.  If your hair is that bad that you need to cover it up with a little curtain, maybe you should just cut your losses and shave your head- I guarantee it will look less lame.  Even if you have a funny-shaped head.  Well, maybe it depends how funny-shaped. 

Remember that line from the movie Raising Arizona, when Nicolas Cage is stealing diapers and a driver tells him, "Son, you got a panty on your head,"?  That’s what it makes me think of.  And I’m not laughing with you…

I think my body may be finally staging a coup.  My head and my back have been bugging me all week, but that’s nothing new (plus I haven’t gotten more than 6 hours of sleep on any given night, either).  Allergies, same old.  But tonight I’m afraid that my stomach, liver, and possibly kidneys are conspiring against me.  They are fucking pissed.  I need to stay up all night working on my thesis, and I tried to fuel/placate myself with a cheese sandwich and coffee that Filippo brought me on his way home (admittedly, at like 1 AM, which is normally not a good time for me to eat, but I digress).  Instead, my stomach is trying to burn me from the inside, while my liver, and possibly kidneys, keep interrupting my flow of non-genius to go take a leak.  Obviously, I have had more caffeine lately than is my wont, but come on guys, give me a break.  If you keep interrupting me, it will just take me that much longer to settle back down and finish my work, so it will be that much longer before we go to bed (if at all tonight), which is presumably what you jerks want anyway.  I am in discomfort.

On the other hand, based on hearsay, I guess as long as my internal organs are rebelling, I suppose I should be thankful I don’t have testicles. >;)

*

Will my grinding innards be momentarily distracted if I sing that lovely song from the 70s, "Why Can’t We Be Friends?"

Confused little bug

Circling round and round my room

Please just leave or die

-

*epilogue, 2 minutes later: got ‘im. >=]

The Chinese restaurant near my house that I like to go to is uniquely ambient.  For the past couple of years, I’ve noticed that they seem to always be playing American classic music of one variety or another, but with one common theme: it’s all glockenspiel, all the time.  Sitting there today, I realized that rather than the glockenspiel, it might also be some type of xylophone instead, but you get the idea- tink, tink, tink, brain…shutting…down…tink, tink, tink.  But whatever specific instrument it is is not the point.  The point is my fascination with this music.  Who chooses it?  Why?  Is it someone’s idea of what non-Chinese New Yorkers like to hear in a Chinese restaurant?  Or is it just the bizarre obsession of the boss, whose employees are powerless to change the stereo without risking his wrath?  Is it just one CD, or several different ones?  Is it the radio; could there actually be an All-Glockenspiel Station???

I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s almost certainly not the radio, since I have heard many of the same tunes on multiple occasions.  It would not make sense for it to be just one CD, because when they first started playing it a couple of years ago, it was all weird Americana/folk song type stuff, like “Davy Crockett.”  I should point out, incidentally, that none of these recordings have any vocals at all, they’re just instrumental versions, yet thanks to my being blessed/cursed with a seemingly infinite memory for pop ephemera, I tend to recognize at least half of the songs through the riffs, and find myself mentally inserting the vocals.  Or singing along, on occasion…

So anyway, it must be different CDs, because the past few times I went there, it was all xylophone/glockenspiel versions of 80s soft rock.  Today, for instance, the first song I noticed was “It Must Have Been Love” by Roxette, followed by a Richard Marx song (maybe “Hold on to the Nights”), one or two songs I didn’t recognize, two songs by Lionel Richie (“Hello” and “Lady”), and another song by Richard Marx that I remembered hearing last time (“Right Here Waiting,” which bucks the all-glockenspiel trend and inserts an acoustic guitar solo, presumably where there was one in the original song).  So if you’re not sick of the subject yet, my conjecture is that they either have a CD of 80s Hits on the Xylophone set to play Random, or a couple of these on Shuffle. Either way, it’s not quite a love-hate relationship I’ve developed for it yet, so much as a morbid fascination.

On a totally unrelated note, there was a guy eating lunch there with his parents, who looked to be around 80 years old, easily. Most likely Jewish (though the old man appeared to have a tattoo, which is a little unusual).  Anyway, I can understand that the guy was probably frustrated in trying to be accommodating, but he was also being rude to them.  I thought it was really kind of sad.  I feel bad NOW when I’m rude to my parents.  If I still do it when they’re in their 80s, someone remember to chastise me.

Today involved yet another encounter with the extraordinarily flaky "recuiter" at the HR department of the hospital where I’m soon to intern.  They call her my recruiter despite the fact that she had nothing to do with my obtaining the position; it’s just a formality I suppose.  Her title is "Senior Staffing Specialist."  How did she get to be "senior"?  Is it like tenure, when a professor can be a complete nut, but they can’t get rid of them?  She doesn’t look that old. 

So far, every e-mail I’ve ever received from her has contained information that at first appears cryptic, then on second thought, is just stupid.  For example, when I sent her this message (regarding things she had previously instructed me to bring to my appointment the day before):

…I will be e-mailing you my CV shortly as well.
Elizabeth
P.S. Yesterday, I was not asked for the $5 money order.  Is that something I need to bring with me to the security/identification appointment instead?  Thank you.

Her response was simply:

Yes please.

Yes please WHAT?  Yes please send the CV, or yes please bring the money to that other appointment, or…  Baffled, I went ahead and e-mailed the CV, and brought the money order with me today (9 days later) to security.  Incidentally, the money order was annoying to obtain last week, since I had to get it at the post office on the way to my appointment with her, and you can only pay with cash or debit (let’s leave the current state of my finances for another time).

So anyway, security didn’t ask me for the money order either.  I stopped by HR (which is nowhere near any of the other buildings where I had to go today- seriously, it’s just 5 blocks down but it’s like 4 avenues over) to drop off some other forms, remembering to ask for photocopies of them to give my supervisor-to-be.  Right around then, as I was waiting, my Recruiter walked by and asked what I was there for.  I reminded her that I was dropping off the State Registry forms, as she’d requested last time.  She thanked me and accepted them.  Fortuntately, I happened to mention that security had not asked me for the money order…to which she responded by remembering that in fact, it needs to be attached TO THE STATE REGISTRY FORM.

But before she took the money order from me, she mentioned that it needed to be specifically made out to a particular recipient.  She told me she would go find out exactly whom, and would be right with me.

Long story short, about 20-25 minutes later, after I had dozed off, woken up, and stood up to stretch and see if she was around anywhere, a secretary asked me what I was waiting for.  I told her, and she scuttled off to apprise my Recruiter, who…yes…had forgotten…I was there…waiting for her…to give me ONE little piece of information.

She did apologize.

Once again, everything today took much longer than I anticipated.

Why, why, why?  Why on the day that I didn’t have to get up early (I set my alarm for 11, which is luxuriously late for me), did I wake up at 9 with the powerful urge to answer the call of nature?  Then I couldn’t go back to sleep.  Despite having been up til the wee hours of the morn whilst my not-boyfriend was determined to concoct some kind of weird frittata, I was wide awake.  Even reading the incredibly boring book that normally knocks my lights out didn’t help.  And my CD player is on the fritz again.  Not an auspicious start to the weekend, especially this being the weekend I need to spend as a slave to my dissertation.  Why, why, why?