Twisted Spinster

Okay, I broke down and called Uhaul, and to my surprise was able to rent a van for Saturday. The worst thing will be moving the bed — the frame is as heavy as iron and the futon is a pain in the ass — it’s too heavy and big to carry, it’s too limp to move with my wheelie thing, and it doesn’t have any handles so it’s nearly impossible to drag along. But I have to keep the stinking thing until I can afford a new mattress. Such is life.

I am so looking forward to Sunday, because that will be the day all of this will be over.

You ever have one of those days where you just don’t want to leave the house, even though you have a million things you need to do because you won’t have much time during the week? Well, I am having one of those days. I’ve been sitting here like a lump all day. I need to get more stuff out to the dumpster, I need to get boxes sorted and packed and stuff put into trash bags (and I need to get some trash bags) — but I know I’m just not gonna. Argh.

I got rid of all my vinyl LPs today. Some of them went to the dumpster, and as I was rolling the rest of them in my wire grocery cart that way, I ran into a guy who lives downstairs, and he asked if he could have them. So that’s the end of that. I also dumped the old broken stereo, and an old chair that was just taking up space. And that’s all I can manage today.

It’s all right here. (I’ve seen/read at least a third of the stuff listed, of course.)

It’s already Anzac Day in Australia. Tim has an awesome photo and story at the link. More from me at some point, if I ever emerge from Impending Move Horror.

Argh…

I am overwhelmed… so much stuff to get rid of, so much stuff to pack, the move is next weekend… I know that by the 4th of May it will be all over one way or the other (for instance, there may be news stories of a four-alarm fire in a certain apartment complex in a certain northern Orlando suburb — kidding! I think…) but I am still overwhelmed.

Argh…

People wonder why the Kennedy assassination has been traditionally treated with such hysteria that even so-called prestigious, scholarly institutions have been corrupted by the conspiracy theory industry, so that reasoned study of the actual facts of the case is now nearly impossible. But I don’t. Here’s the conclusion I have come to about “Kennedyitis” and the people who suffer it:

First, Kennedy was “different” — he was considered young and good-looking, unlike the rest of the crusty old men that had held office before him. (Personally, I think he looked like Mr. Ed, and I find the Boston accent to be beyond grating. But apparently in the early 60s that high-haired, shiny-toothed look was the sine qua non of male beauty, at least for a politician.) He also had a cute, young, fashionable wife. Previous president’s wives were, well, let’s say they were “motherly” in appearance, not the sort of females found in fashion spreads. And more important than any of these was television — Kennedy was the first widely televised president. Of course from time to time other presidents had their mugs on the little black and white screens, and there were also newsreels in the theater, but Kennedy was right there in everyone’s living room, all the time, flashing those teeth. He also made good speech, saying all the right things about prosperity and brotherhood and impressing the foreigners, but that wouldn’t have meant much if he also hadn’t been perceived as young and sexy (Marilyn Monroe got involved with him for God’s sake). There might have been other presidents who were actually young and attractive (though I can’t bring any to mind — Thomas Jefferson? No, he was old when he got elected, wasn’t he…) but they didn’t have television to implant their features and personality on the nation.

One more factor is the first set of Baby Boomers was coming of age. Kennedy was “their” president, so of course his assassination was the Most Important Event Ever, it shattered the universe, it couldn’t have been a lone gunman with a bee in his bonnet, the evil forces the New Youth already sensed were arrayed against them (Mom and Dad! The Warmongering no-dancing, no-drinking, no-fun oldsters! A.k.a. “the Mob,” “right-wingers,” and capitalists — which purveyors of Beatles records and mini skirts of course were not) had to have done it, just to rain on their parade.

I’ll get around to reviewing all the crap* I’ve been watching on dvd and tv (no, not too much of that — just the essentials!) — in the meantime, I really must ask the question: are you a Rocky Horror virgin?

Aaand… update: lucky!

One more: aw… sweet!

*Okay, just some of it. Most of it isn’t worth thinking about, much less writing about, even in as inconsequential a blog as this.

I believe I did mention that I did a faceplant into the tarmac at my first day on my new job. Well, I really did a number on myself — the next day I ached from right knee all the way up my side, and I swear I sprained the muscles and/or ligaments that hold up my right boob. I was moaning and groaning and bitching all day Thursday and Friday; they must like me at the new place otherwise I don’t know why they kept me. Anyway, after eating about fifteen pounds of ibuprofen over the past few days I think I am better. But then I had to do laundry today. Which meant, since I returned the rental washer/dryer, a trip to the laundromat. (The one in the complex is too small and there is never a free machine.) Which meant enduring not only crying brats and a television set on the Lifetime channel, but I strained my healing boob-muscle. Because I am too lazy to do my laundry in a timely manner. I had better break that habit, since where I am moving to I won’t have any washer/dryer hookups in my own place, I’ll have to use the complex’s laundromat or do what I did today. Ouch. The one drawback to the new place.  Oh, and I still haven’t packed, and still haven’t gotten rid of all the stuff I wanted to sell/drag to the dumpster. Anyone know where I can rent a blowtorch?

I don’t watch MSNBC or NBC nor any other news channels or talk shows or any of those WE GOTZ BAD REPUGS OMGWTFBBQ “exposé” shows but I just read this smackdown offered up by Karl Rove to the lead dude on one of those shows and I must say Rove PWNZ. No really, there isn’t anything left but a No More Years! coffee mug lying on the floor and a few shreds of mangled cloth waving in the breeze from the broken windows.

(Via.)