When I came in to work yesterday morning, the furniture in my work area had been completely rearranged.Which totally freaked me out--Monday is not the best day to spring drastic changes on me. But I dealt with it. Or, at least, I dealt with most of it.There had been two softball trophies sitting on a table in the front area of the office building near where my desk is. The table they had been sitting on has gone to furniture heaven (or something like that-- whatever happened, it's no longer with us), so the trophies had to be moved. Perfectly reasonable, you might be saying. They do have to go somewhere. I agree; they can't just be left sitting on the floor.The trophies ended up being placed on my desk--I'm assuming that's because the desk was really the only other surface in the area.Now, these are not the dinky little team trophies that kids get from little league just for participating. No, no, these were tournament trophies: the kind that are two and a half feet tall.And they were right behind me all day yesterday.In my mind, I could see these plastic monstrosities toppling over and cracking my skull open (I really think they were in league with the vending machines-- the one here has a thing against me too, though it's not out for blood like the one in the dorm used to be). And there were TWO of them--I was outnumbered!Fortunately, the trophies have been moved; I'm no longer in any immediate danger.But now they're where no one can hear them plotting.Looks like I'll have to keep an eye out for them from now on.
My brother-in-law has once again tagged me in yet another Meme (I imagine this will get old before too long). The only people I know who have blogs have already been tagged, so I'm just going to fill out the thing, and if you want to take this and post it on your own blog, go for it.
So here goes....
1. I have bad luck with vending machines. Aside from the earlier post about the machine in my dorm being after my blood, I also have a hard time getting machines to accept the money I give them. I'm not just talking crumpled old dollar bills-- lately the machines won't even take change from me. I put a dollar in quarters in one of the machines and got back twenty nickels. The one in my dorm is still the worst. Every time I go to get a Dr Pepper, there's a chance that I might not make it back.
2. I love crime shows. I watched one episode of Law & Order because it had an actress I knew in it, and now I can't get enough. Well, at least, that the explanation of the recent trend in my television habits-- this probably dates back to all of the episodes of Matlock I used to watch while my mother took her afternoon naps. But seriously, any time that there's a Law & Order or Monk or Psych or Matlock marathon on, it's usually a pretty safe bet that I'm holed up somewhere with a bowl of popcorn and the lights off watching.
3. I have a tendency to ramble. A lot. It's usually worse when I'm tired or sick or both, but I'm one of the most skilled people I know when it comes to talking forever about nothing (though I'd say my big sister has me beat). And I talk in circles. It's like word salad-- like I'm two steps away from schizophrenia. It's a mark of how wonderful and devoted my friends are that they're able to follow me when I start talking nonsense.
4. When it comes to politics, liberals AND conservatives make me crazy. This is especially true during election years, like this one. Frankly, I don't care if you're way to the left. I don't care if you're way to the right. Both sides of the coin have reasonable points they've made; both sides have flaws. What bugs me is that people are so STUPID about it. There's no point in a conservative bashing a liberal candidate just because the candidate is liberal; there's no point in a liberal bashing a conservative candidate just because the candidate is conservative. Different people have different opinions. Suck it up and GET OVER IT.
5. I can't eat during hour and a half before a performance. It didn't bother me before, but in the past couple of years, I've found that, if I eat less than half an hour before a performance or call for a performance, theatre or otherwise, I get sick. All I can assume is that it's nerves, but it makes for some long, hungry nights when I have a 5 o'clock call for a show that runs until nearly 10.
6. I am a wealth of musical theatre knowledge. This comes as no surprise to anyone who has spent any considerable amount of time with me. I saw my first professional musical (a touring production of Les Miserables) when I was 8 years one, and ever since, I've been quite a fan of the art of musical theatre. I can name Tony winners for the past several years, obscure musicals and quite a number of theatre actors. The Tony Awards are to me what the Oscars are to my peers. Yes, I realize that makes me a nerd. But I'm okay with that.
So there again, Josh. You can feel like you've fulfilled your Meme obligation. Next time, tag someone else. XP
The vending machine in my dorm's lobby has something against me.
My roommate and I don't buy Dr Pepper, though I really couldn't say why-- it'd really save me a fair bit of trouble if we did. Anyway, about once or twice a week, I buy a Dr Pepper from the vending machine. And every time, the machine tries to kill me.
The first time this happened, a Dr Pepper traveling at a high velocity collided with my knee. Fortunately (er... I suppose), the knee that it hit is already injured; there's not much more damage that can be done to it.
But it was still scary as hell.
In the past few months, I've probably had more soda projectiles sent my way that any other person. And I've only recently figured out what I have to do to dodge them.
Now, I insert the dollar bill into the machine, press the Dr Pepper button and dive behind the nearest wall until the whirring of the machine has stopped.
I imagine that the machine is now trying to come up with a way around my plans to thwart it's assaults.
The machine will continue to try to kill me.
...Paranoia is an unfortunate downside of an overactive imagination.
