When one door closes there's always another one to kick the sh*t out of

I'm grumpy today. Tired. Bitchy. Did Oscar the Grouch have a sister? Because that's about me, right about now.

I am seriously rethinking my decision to become an academic-- five days prior to defending my dissertation-- possibly the worst piece of tripe ever composed, anywhere, by any being, in the entire history of the whole universe.

There's about 50 gazillion articles and books of which I should have a working knowledge by next Tuesday. Yep, and the likelihood that one of my five committee members is going to ask about the 40, 161,234th is about 1:1. (It's never a good sign when I start trying to use numbers; that and quoting Dante or Melville who might be the second worst writer in the history of everything right behind me.)

Told you I was grouchy.

Another thing that is pissing me right the hell off: our dryer is broken. Yes, I am griping because I have clothes and boxers and socks hanging all over our apartment. And four voicemails since Monday to our landlady (who is usually Jane-on-the-spot) have gone unanswered.

I feel like a turn-of-the-20th-century Irish/German/Polish immigrant in the Bronx. All that's missing are the gaggle of children tugging on my imaginary apron strings (oops, just popped out another one). Not even Monty Python can make me smile today.

I refuse.

Every sperm is not sacred.

In fact, if a sperm gets wasted, it is because the dude it came from had too many Jack and Cokes at the pub down the block.

And I am the one who's irate.

I am so white from being inside, strapped to a computer, that you can almost see every vein, muscle, and tendon beneath my skin. I'm like the Invisible Man without the cool invisible part (and the penis; boy wouldn't that be a shocker for Tom after being together for almost four years?).

I am in such a foul mood that I considered switching political parties just to see if that made me feel better. Actually, that's a lie. I would never even consider it.

See? And now I'm lying because I am grumpy.

I never lie.

Ever.

Except for that one time when my doctor asked me if I had ever experimented with drugs and I said "no".

Altho' technically, that's not a lie. I didn't experiment with cannabis. I smoked it... regularly.

Maybe I'm having a mid-life crisis. I am turning 38 in less than two months and I am without a working dryer, I feel like a Staten Island cast off, and I don't want to be an invisible man, well, woman.

Regardless, doors keep opening and closing and I feel like kicking the crap out of all of them.

Especially the one marked: "Winning Powerball numbers for the next drawing."

Unfair. So f*cking unfair...

Update: I just found this post on Media Matters that made my day. In a nutshell, rightwing blogs are irrelevant according to a Brigham Young University study. Can you get more right wing than BYU?

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Sunday sin talk, blasphemy, and zombies

Tom and I won some cash in the Powerball last night: 3 bucks.

Not bad for a $1 investment.

So many things happened this week that made me think: "Oooh, I need to blog about that."

Alas, my fried cerebral cortex cannot recall a single one. I think it wants out of this dissertation gig and keeps trying to squish into my frontal lobe. Abstraction only! No more thoughts or language!

So instead of worshiping in a house of the Lord this fine, sunny Sunday, ('cause we never do) some comments from yesterday (and this AM, thanks seeing eye) got me thinking about religion and its numerous mechanisms of control (read: sin) and brain zombification (read: academic writing).



Any of you zombie movie fans? I wasn't until I met my husband and honestly, they are among the creepiest in the horror genre in my opinion.

We were watching 28 Days Later shortly after we entered the sleep-over-of-sin phase of courtship (but prior to the living-in-sin phase) and Tom wanted to watch this movie in my room, in the dark, while it was storming outside.

I am not a squeamish gal, either. I like a good scare. But those fast-running, red-eyed, filthy, gorey, unholy not-dead scared the shit right out of me.

I asked Tom: "What would we do? I mean, if this really happened and the world was filled with a plague that turned people into flesh eating, blood-puking zombies?"

[An aside, I could insert a swipe at our current political climate, but maybe later.]

We occupy the entire second story of an old, post-Civil War home-- so we're not ground level.

"Well," Tom began thoughtfully, "we'd get as many supplies as we could, board up the windows and doors and wait for help to come or until the zombies ran out of food."

There are 15 windows in our apartment. Three exit doors and three staircases. Basically we live in second-story Swiss cheese (ladders provided) with some plaster between the holes in the walls.

I think I fell in love with him that very moment.

Also, because the attic in the ceiling above is poorly ventilated and (I don't think) insulated, in the summer we get heat radiating from below us and above us (opposite in the winter). So when the power grid goes down, we'll either turn into popsicles or nice crispy pork rolls both of which I am sure will please the discerning zombie culinary crowd. One good thing: our place is 80% hard wood floors. We could use that for kindling if the zombie pandemic occurred in the cooler months.

Another thing that is really on our side: we are married right proper. So when the end-of days comes (*cough* *achoo* *sniff*) we can at least rest somewhat safe knowing that we said some vows and signed a contract and bought rings for each other.

I could end this with some snarky remark about how religion rots people's brains (I wonder if that matters to a zombie?) or atrophies growth in the cerebral cortex (certainly a matter of portion size to a hard-working zombie).

Or that some theology is an interesting experiment in entertaining the notion of ghosts, an afterlife, and a dude arisen from the grave.

I guess I am too much of a humanist to put my faith in anyone other than living people.

When the Army of zombies finally takes to the streets, and not just to throw tea bags into bodies of fresh water, know that I will miss you all dearly and will remember the pre-apocalyptic days when we engaged in witty banter and exchanged snarks online in the spirit of true facetiousness (not fascismness-- to any zombie trolls) .

A programming note: my posts and commenting on my favorite blogs (there on the roll to the right) will be sporadic this week.

I am finishing final revisions on my dissertation and submitting it to the committee early next week (defense is scheduled for 5.19). So the craziness and hair rending shall ensue and I don't want to bleed all over my blog and you fine, decent people.

PS: Thanks True Blue Texan for the award; I am deeply honored and vow to post on it as soon as I can!

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