Night Tremors
My psychic powers are at work again. Last night I had a very vivid dream in which a friend of mine was flabbergasted that I hadn’t felt a powerful earthquake that had just occurred. It’s been years since I’ve experienced an earthquake, which is why I thought the dream was odd but we just had a fairly strong one a couple minutes ago. It was one of the longest earthquakes I’ve ever felt- I had plenty of time to debate whether I should get out of bed and throw some clothes on. Laziness won out over personal safety. The batteries in my remote are dead so of course that means I can’t turn on the tv to find out the details and I’ll just have to wait for it to pop up on the Internet. I’m hoping the epicenter was nearby because if it wasn’t, an earthquake that long could spell a lot of trouble…
Shark Week!
It’s that glorious time of year known as Shark Week on the Discovery channel. I missed the premiere episode so I went to their website to find out if the videos are available online. They’re not but I did stumble upon their “Shark Yourself” feature and of course I had to waste my time playing with it. I like the first one better- I really think some shark teeth covered in bling bling is the right look for me. As for the second photo, it’s the closest anybody will ever come to seeing me eat fish without gagging.
Google Loves Me Again
A couple months ago I noticed that my visitor stats had gone way down and I was no longer getting any referrals from Google. Even for a term like “Jenee” for which I’ve always been the #1 result, I didn’t show up at all. Through some searching I learned that this happens with sites that Google deems to be spam sites and I couldn’t understand why mine would be flagged as such. I thought maybe I’d used one-too-many “fucks” or “cunts” so I put in a request for reconsideration.
Then while fixing some code with my theme I discovered by accident that there was a ton of spam-like hidden links contained within my index file that bulked up my homepage to a hefty 1MB. It turned out there was some major security issue with my old version of WordPress and a lot of people’s sites got hacked and then banned by Google. I’m happy to say that I’m finally back on Google’s radar.
It’s bad enough when your friends have forgotten you’re alive but when Google won’t even acknowledge your existence it’s a sad day indeed because when a blogger blogs and Google isn’t there to crawl it, she doesn’t make a cyber sound.
Free At Last, Free At Last, Fuck You Vaseline, I’m Free At Last!
One of my earliest blog posts was about the lip balm addiction I’ve suffered from for more than a decade. Over the years I’ve made the occasional attempts to quit using and, though I usually didn’t last for more than a couple hours, sometimes I managed to get through the day but as soon as I put my head on my pillow I realized sleep would be impossible without dipping into my giant jar of Vaseline that sits on my nightstand right next to my salt shaker (that’s a whole ‘nother addiction).
I hit rock bottom many times. I would get into my car and fret over my naked lips so I’d grab the emergency Chapstick I keep in my console (along with some salt packets) and desperately swirl my finger around the tube that’s been empty ever since it was stored in the car I had two before this one. I would have to scrape what residue I could get out of it from underneath my fingernails then I’d rub it across my lips knowing deep down that all I was really applying was some greasy finger oil. Then I’d cry out, “Why? Why? Why must this gooey goodness have this control over my life?”
Then last week something amazing happened: I realized that a good 16 hours had passed without a slathering and I wasn’t experiencing the usual withdrawal symptoms. I decided to see how long I could go without it and I actually made it through the night! For three days straight, I applied absolutely nothing to my lips, a feat I haven’t accomplished since I was back in a training bra. Over the last five days, I’ve had to wear lipstick on a couple occasions and apply SPF 15 sunscreen to my lips while in the sun but I swear that isn’t the reason I’m laying out 14 hours a day.
I realize I have a tough road ahead of me, one that involves the annoying habit of licking my lips every couple seconds. And I fear that first incident when someone pulls out a tube of lip balm and offers it to me. Will I be able to say no? Is there some kind of LBAA (Lip Balm Addicts Anonymous) keychain to help me garner the sympathetic congratulations to which I’m entitled? Most importantly, is this something I should write to the Vatican about? The sudden disappearance of this addiction is a miracle in itself but if a day ever comes that I utter the phrase, “This is too salty,” it will surely make a believer out of me.
My Hand, My Wishes
On Monday’s finale of The Bachelorette, a big deal was made over her suitors asking for her father’s permission to propose to her, an archaic tradition I can’t believe is still practiced. It made sense back in olden days when a marriage meant the loss of a good farmhand or butter churner but in today’s age of food processors and women living on their own for a good while before marrying, it’s rather insulting to the woman.
Asking for the father’s permission suggests that the father has control over his daughter’s life and subsequently, the husband will be in control. Fuck that. I don’t want anybody thinking he’s the boss of me and I have no interest in a henpecked little man who thinks he needs to ask permission for anything. Asking for the father’s permission also makes him the boss of his future son-in-law, as exemplified on the finale when Sean Penn’s request was followed by the father’s order that he cut his hair. While I agree that he’d look better with shorter hair, I don’t want my dad thinking he can give style orders to somebody I’ll be appearing in public with.
It’s one thing for a guy to tell the parents (not just the father, you misogynistic bastards), “I’m going to ask your daughter to be my wife and I hope you’re okay with that… but if you’re not, tough shit.” But asking for permission is ridiculous because what if the parents say no? Would the guy back off from the woman he loves? Of course not, which makes it an empty courtesy. Granted, it would never go down like that in my household because if I ever brought a guy home to my parents it would be my dad who would beg the guy to marry me before I could even make the introductions.
