10:02pmMe
I sent you a request to confirm me as myself for my blog, if
you didn't yet, can you confirm it for me?
10:05pmHolden
Confirm
what now?
10:07pmMe
check your requests for a networked blogs
request which is just asking if i am me and the author of my blog
10:10pmHolden
are you the author of your blog?
10:17pmMe
srsly? what is UP with you and your brother?!?
10:22pmHolden
I dont know, likee you didnt just copy and paste it right?
[UPDATED]
10:23pmMe
!!!!\
10:24pmMe
i'm copying and pasting your annoying ass ?s
10:25pmHolden
so your not really the author of that content?
10:25pmMe
come here, please. i need to slap you.
10:27pmHolden
hey, plagarism is serious business, my english teacher says they can kick you out of college for that'
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
Aaaaand the oldest, too.
I guess they both got the sickness from me:
Sometimes I realize they are too much like me.
So, the old way that Blogger used to post to Facebook doesn't seem to work anymore, so I signed up for NetworkedBlogs to do it for me. One of the steps was to ask friends to verify that I am, indeed, the owner of my blog. I asked both of my sons, among others. My youngest and I just had the following chat via Facebook:
9:58pmMeWhy did I teach them how to be smart asses so well? It makes me laugh my mom ass off, but it's still frustrating.
I sent you a request to confirm me as myself for my blog, if you didn't yet, can you confirm it for me?
9:59pmEthan
can i not?
im to lazy to click
nd the mouse is so far away
9:59pmMe
yeah, but then fb wont let me publish m y blog...why would you not?
10:01pmEthan
idk tho
how can i be sure ur the authore of blahgblahgblahg
author*
they taught us about plagerism in skool
10:01pmMe
┌∩┐(◣_◢)┌∩┐
:-)
10:02pmEthan
brb i hav to google some sample phrases to make sure u didnt steal this from someone elses blog
Down with Socialism!
Government needs to keep it's nose out my healthcare, medicare, social security, roads, libraries, police departments, fire departments, education and schools, our stock exchange, our oil cleanups and disaster relief, our national and international protection, the prices we pay for milk and eggs and cigarettes and bread, air and water quality, public transportation, the railroads and ports by which all of our consumer goods reach us, the water treatment and sewers and trash disposal and, finally, our justice system. I just can't take anymore of their fucking interfering with everything.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Oh, Hollywood, you're so silly...
I was just reading an article in Entertainment Weekly about Angelina Jolie’s summer movie Salt. Originally the character was named Edwin Salt and was played by Tom Cruise, but he bailed and Jolie stepped into the role of Evelyn Salt. Here’s the quote that has me bothered:
I have nothing profound or poetic to add here, I just can’t believe in this day and age, directors still say things like this and do things like this. They had to rewrite much of the script to accommodate men’s egos, yet it never occurred to them women might not want to see a woman “being rescued” by a brainwashed little person asshole actor?
“In the original script, there was a huge sequence where Edwin Salt saves hisWhat the fuck, Hollywood? When is the woman going to be “tough enough that [she doesn’t] need saving?" Why is there no feminized metaphorical equivalent to “castrate” in art or psychology? How can Hollywood create a movie with a main character who is a female action hero, and still not see the irony in worrying over the implications of a man being rescued?
wife, who’s in danger,“ says [director] Noyce. “And what we found was when
Evelyn Salt saved her husband in the new script, it seemed to castrate his
character a little. So we had to change the nature of that relationship.” In the
end, Salt’s husband, played by German actor August Diehl (Inglourious Basterds),
was made tough enough that he didn’t need saving, thank you very much…
I have nothing profound or poetic to add here, I just can’t believe in this day and age, directors still say things like this and do things like this. They had to rewrite much of the script to accommodate men’s egos, yet it never occurred to them women might not want to see a woman “being rescued” by a brainwashed little person asshole actor?
Friday, April 09, 2010
When it rains it pours and other clichés I hate but use anyway.
Nate’s trip to Vegas for work this year coincided with a “crunch time” at my job, so I had to beg off of going to one of my favorite places with one of my favorite people, yet again. And, BOY HOWDY! Am I glad I stayed here, because not less than 48 hours after he left I became effectively, indefinitely unemployed. I am fairly sure I am still on the hirable list from how it was explained to me, but there are no studies coming up for which I am able to work. Paying off remaining debt plus loneliness plus having no spending money plus nowhere to go plus nothing to do equals… well, my heads explodes at that kind of math.
The same night my job was finished, my iPhone decided to crash. I know if you don’t have an iPhone or other PDA or smart phone on which you entirely rely for all of your notes, lists, appointments, et cetera, that this sounds like a privileged woman complaining about not being able to buy new shoes or something. For me, though, my whole life is run by that cute little device. My memory is poor enough and my appointments are great enough in number that I pretty much can’t get anything done without the ping of the alert or alarm reminding where I need to be. And the notes and lists help me remember what I am supposed to do when I get there. Well, apparently, some of my data was not backed up properly and I am spending the first half of this day calling everyone in hell’s tarnation and saying, “Um, hi. This is Kayly Newcomer. Am I supposed to see you at some point in the future? And if so: when?” I loooove sounding like a mentally challenged weirdo to people with access to my medical records.
Taking a step back, though: before I was able to get the phone to work again, I stayed up until 5:30 a.m. Thursday trying to follow Apple’s convoluted instructions on how to fix my problem. The instructions boiled down to, basically, “If you can’t do ‘a,’ then do ‘a’ to be able to do ‘a.’” Uuummmmm. Hm. So, yes, I basically bashed my head against the wall for a few hours until I had to sleep. I slept twenty minutes and then woke Holden for school; I slept another hour and woke to get Ethan to school; then I slept two hours before I woke to haul my dirty haired, sweaty, rumpled clothed ass to the AT&T Technical Support office on Jonestown Road. He put the phone in something he called “DFU mode” and told me not to touch anything on the phone, but to take it straight home, plug it in and restore factory software and my settings. Even he didn’t know what DFU stood for, but I’m convinced it stands for Don’t Fuck Up. In the end it’s all going to be okay. (I keep taking long, deep breaths and telling myself that, anyway…) The purely annoying (not really important) aspect of this whole thing is that I have over 80 gig of music on my hard drive, but only about 14 gig of space on my iPhone iPod, so I obviously don’t just sync iTunes to the phone; I pick and choose what I want to hear when I’m tooling around and drag it onto the device. There is no simple, time-saving way to back that list up and it has taken me almost the whole year I’ve had the phone to get it just right and weed out the duplicates, clunkers and so on just taking up space. So that process begins again, sigh. But, like my loving hubby said, “Hey, at least you have free time to do that since you’re not working anymore.” Ah, love!
The last of what I hope are the “everything bad happens in threes”-three is just the icing on the big, annoying shit cake I’ve been served this week. On the way home from the tech center I stopped at the library to pick up some books I had on hold. On the way out of the parking lot a woman in a big, ugly truck backed right into my driver’s side rear quarter panel. The first thing she said when she hopped down from the driver’s seat was, “I didn’t see you at all!!” The last thing she said after we exchanged information and were leaving was, “It didn’t even leave a mark on my truck!!” Lady, I know where you live, please don’t tempt me to violence. I don’t need that much of an excuse at this point.
I’ve been in touch with the lady’s insurance company and they said she is accepting responsibility for the accident, so now there is just the pain in the butt of getting it all done—the estimate, the bodywork, the not having a car for a day or two or whatever.
Total non-sequitur: It has been in the 90s for days now, yet today I had to turn on the heat again. It’s 63° in here! What…is the DEAL…with that?
Also, in case you are wondering: yes, I am just pretending I’ve been blogging all along. I have to just jump in and do it and stop being so self-conscious about the quality of my writing. I had a second round of ECT (five treatments) in February and my memory is still revving up to normal, as is my attention span for words on paper—mine or others’. Hopefully, this was readable enough for all six of you!
The same night my job was finished, my iPhone decided to crash. I know if you don’t have an iPhone or other PDA or smart phone on which you entirely rely for all of your notes, lists, appointments, et cetera, that this sounds like a privileged woman complaining about not being able to buy new shoes or something. For me, though, my whole life is run by that cute little device. My memory is poor enough and my appointments are great enough in number that I pretty much can’t get anything done without the ping of the alert or alarm reminding where I need to be. And the notes and lists help me remember what I am supposed to do when I get there. Well, apparently, some of my data was not backed up properly and I am spending the first half of this day calling everyone in hell’s tarnation and saying, “Um, hi. This is Kayly Newcomer. Am I supposed to see you at some point in the future? And if so: when?” I loooove sounding like a mentally challenged weirdo to people with access to my medical records.
Taking a step back, though: before I was able to get the phone to work again, I stayed up until 5:30 a.m. Thursday trying to follow Apple’s convoluted instructions on how to fix my problem. The instructions boiled down to, basically, “If you can’t do ‘a,’ then do ‘a’ to be able to do ‘a.’” Uuummmmm. Hm. So, yes, I basically bashed my head against the wall for a few hours until I had to sleep. I slept twenty minutes and then woke Holden for school; I slept another hour and woke to get Ethan to school; then I slept two hours before I woke to haul my dirty haired, sweaty, rumpled clothed ass to the AT&T Technical Support office on Jonestown Road. He put the phone in something he called “DFU mode” and told me not to touch anything on the phone, but to take it straight home, plug it in and restore factory software and my settings. Even he didn’t know what DFU stood for, but I’m convinced it stands for Don’t Fuck Up. In the end it’s all going to be okay. (I keep taking long, deep breaths and telling myself that, anyway…) The purely annoying (not really important) aspect of this whole thing is that I have over 80 gig of music on my hard drive, but only about 14 gig of space on my iPhone iPod, so I obviously don’t just sync iTunes to the phone; I pick and choose what I want to hear when I’m tooling around and drag it onto the device. There is no simple, time-saving way to back that list up and it has taken me almost the whole year I’ve had the phone to get it just right and weed out the duplicates, clunkers and so on just taking up space. So that process begins again, sigh. But, like my loving hubby said, “Hey, at least you have free time to do that since you’re not working anymore.” Ah, love!
The last of what I hope are the “everything bad happens in threes”-three is just the icing on the big, annoying shit cake I’ve been served this week. On the way home from the tech center I stopped at the library to pick up some books I had on hold. On the way out of the parking lot a woman in a big, ugly truck backed right into my driver’s side rear quarter panel. The first thing she said when she hopped down from the driver’s seat was, “I didn’t see you at all!!” The last thing she said after we exchanged information and were leaving was, “It didn’t even leave a mark on my truck!!” Lady, I know where you live, please don’t tempt me to violence. I don’t need that much of an excuse at this point.
I’ve been in touch with the lady’s insurance company and they said she is accepting responsibility for the accident, so now there is just the pain in the butt of getting it all done—the estimate, the bodywork, the not having a car for a day or two or whatever.
Total non-sequitur: It has been in the 90s for days now, yet today I had to turn on the heat again. It’s 63° in here! What…is the DEAL…with that?
Also, in case you are wondering: yes, I am just pretending I’ve been blogging all along. I have to just jump in and do it and stop being so self-conscious about the quality of my writing. I had a second round of ECT (five treatments) in February and my memory is still revving up to normal, as is my attention span for words on paper—mine or others’. Hopefully, this was readable enough for all six of you!
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