What Have We Learned?

OK, it's been a few days since the conclusion of Blogathon 2002. I've tried to catch up on my sleep, but my schedule is still kind of out of whack. Granted, this probably has a lot less to do with the event, and a lot more with me having a screwy sleep schedule to begin with.

And as I predicted, Rosencrantz called me Monday night to tell me that I was insane. She had been out of town for a few weeks and missed the whole thing. She had a good laugh reading about all the silliness that went on while she was away.

Paisley is coming into town in a week or so, so I'll be able to thank her personally for her support and for naming our Blogathon Mascot (Ignatius, the Dead Guy in Drag). We're also trying to get a group together to go to Buca di Beppo again while she's in town, although it will be hard to top the last time we went there en masse. Maybe this time we can all play harmonicas and write a blues number about pasta.

So now that I have partially recovered from the madness of the weekend, I figured today would be a good day to tidy up the mess I made of my template and compile a few dos and don'ts for next year's event. I think that Zappagirl and I managed pretty well for our first year, but we learned from our experiences, and there will be a lot of things we will do differently in future years.

DO have a kitchen timer that can be reset every half hour. There are points where you may get involved in other things, like checking your email, reading someone else's site, making dinner, or just chit-chatting. Having a loud audible DING! is a good reminder to get back to the task at hand.

DON'T forget to set it. There was more than one occasion when Zappagirl looked at the timer and muttered various profanities under her breath because after posting, she'd forgotten to reset the timer. There's less of a chance of it dinging that way. We still managed, but towards the end, we were having a hard time remembering if we had made that half-hour's post or not.

DO have several "contingency" post items. While the idea of "posting on the fly" sounds good, it doesn't always work out. No matter how clever you think you might be, there will come a point at 5:00 a.m. when your brain has turned to tapioca and you will have no clue what to say anymore. Make a list of subjects you can write about or interesting links you can refer folks on to. Otherwise you will find yourself gibbering like an idiot about childhood toys and making very little sense.

DON'T spend 25 minutes looking for a decent link about the aforementioned childhood toys. It cuts down on the amount of time you'll have to actually write something, and as a result you run the risk of sounding like a moron. And no matter what search engine you're using, the old adage holds true: you never can find what you need when you actually need it.

DO consider having a theme to tie all of your posts together. Whether it be a new song an hour, a new photo, a serialized short story, or a bunch of related facts relating to your charity, it helps to have some continuity. Spontaneity can be a good thing, but... see above comment about gibbering like an idiot.

DON'T have too many themes or ideas. Zappagirl and I had all kinds of great ideas. We could make brownies! We could post pictures! We could play dress up and post the pictures! We could make mix CDs! We could... we could... we could sit on our butts and be completely indecisive about what to do next.

DO have something to do in between posts. Toys are highly recommended. Indulge your inner child. We had a blast dressing up a toy skeleton in Barbie clothes Zappagirl had packed away in her basement. But then again, we're weird like that.

DON'T do anything too involving that demands your total concentration. Now is not a good time to play that game of Risk or challenge your blogging buddy to a game of chess.

DO make brownies or cookies or something sweet. It will keep you occupied between posts, and the sugar rush is a good thing.

DON'T preheat the oven and then forget about it for 45 minutes. The brownies cook better when they're actually in the oven.

DO hide the decaf so you don't accidentally make it. Learn from my mistakes. Nothing makes you feel dumber than making a pot of coffee, drinking it, then wondering why you're still half-asleep.

DON'T put too much Bailey's (or Kahlua or Frangelico or whatever alcoholic beverage you may prefer) in your coffee. Keyboards are very uncomfortable places to pass out, and drooling is bad form.

DO keep your email account open in a separate window. It's good to have a link to the outside world, whether it be for the latest news from the mailing list, words of support from readers, or complete strangers that drop a note to say hello or help you out with some with some coding questions.

DON'T let the emails from the mailing list accumulate. Clean it out frequently, or you'll end up with 150 or so messages from people clogging up your inbox.

DO take pictures if a digital camera is available. A picture is worth a thousand words, and adding the visual element livens up a post.

DON'T take pictures that you will regret later. If some of your readers have never seen you before, do you really want their first glimpse of you to be while you've got green goop all over your face and your hair up in a big clippie? Yeesh. (I swear we'll actually take pictures the next time we're dressed up, in an attempt to erase the frightening images we presented everyone with that night.)

DO take a shower if you feel like you're going to pass out. I personally recommend having the temperature of the water a bit colder than usual, to snap you out of your stupor.

DON'T take a hot bath. While hot baths are wonderful, you run the risk of becoming too relaxed and falling asleep in the tub. Save the bubble bath for afterwards, while you're waiting for the Tylenol PM to override the massive amounts of caffeine in your bloodstream.

DO play nice with the other bloggers. Check out your fellow participants in the webring and send them an email to let them know you like what you see. Talk to people in chat and IM. They'll help you stay awake, provide moral support, and you might make a few new friends.

DON'T join the webring and then not participate. There was a bit of a problem with this. I don't know if they were folks who had dropped out and forgot to let anyone know, or if they were just in it for the free publicity. Whatever the case, there was a lot of grumbling from the other folks who were blogging their hearts out, and I didn't blame them. Although I didn't participate in the online grumbling, I was thinking about it. The word "poopyhead" came to mind a lot.

DO get up every once in a while a stretch your legs. Otherwise, ouch.

DON'T forget to thank all of your sponsors and mark your calendars for the next year!

And I can see by the checkered flag that this year's Blogathon is officially over.

We did it. We survived. It was a lot of fun, but I'm really glad that this only happens once a year. My brain hurts.

It didn't go as well as planned, but I think we did pretty good for rookies. Next year, we'll know what to expect.

Sometime in the next few days, I'll go back and change some of my settings and sidebar information so my site will be easier to deal with once I get back to my regular infrequent posting. I'll probably consolidate all of the photo links into one big post so the sidebar won't be so godawful lengthy. But for now, I'll leave it as it is.

The webring graphic will be staying, so everyone (including me) can check out other participating sites at their leisure. Like Zappagirl remarked earlier, it's a badge of honor, and I'm proud to be able to display it on my site.

Big humongous thanks to all of the participants, sponsors, and random folks who wandered over to my tiny corner of the 'net. Let's all do this again sometime, mmmkay?

Must go now. I've got an appointment with the bed in the other room, just as soon as the Tylenol PM kicks in.

Sleep. What a wonderful word. Sleep sleep sleep sleep sleep.

The wind-down ritual has begun.

In the last interim, I took the opportunity to change into my jammies, and run downstairs to retrieve the Diet Coke and the Tylenol PM. Well, I retrieved all that after I fed the cats, since Kemper was standing in the doorway of the kitchen with an expectant look on his face. "Hey you! Yeah, you! Lady that isn't Mom! You've got opposable thumbs! Could you please please please put some Science Diet kibble in my bowl? Mom seems to be ignoring the psychic messages I'm sending her way...."

Yes, even in Zappagirl's house, I'm a slave to the kitties.

Of course, when I wandered into the guest bedroom to change into my pajamas, I made the foolish mistake of looking at the bed. So inviting. So warm. So soft. So comfy.

One more post. And then I'm off to beddy-bye.

Kemper is now frantically meowing in the hallway, telling us it's long past our bedtimes. Soon, baby. Soon.

I've been trying to keep my mailbox cleaned out on a regular basis during this event, but there was apparently something wacky going on with the group mailing list. When I signed back into my Hotmail account, I had 25 new emails waiting for me. One of them was one I sent in somewhere around the halfway point, and it had just made it to my inbox.

The next time I do something like this, I'm going to change all of my passwords to something easier to type. I had to talk myself through logging back into Blogger and Hotmail. My fingers didn't know what to do.

I think I've reached the saturation point on coffee. It's starting to taste nasty, and the Bailey's is leaving a weird filmy feeling in my mouth. Time to switch back to Diet Coke.

Actually, all I want to do is brush my teeth, pop a few Tylenol PMs, and go to bed. Which is exactly what I will be doing in about an hour.

There were so many things I wanted to do in the last 24 hours that just got sidelined. I had hoped we'd post more pictures, but due to the problems with the host site, that didn't happen. (But Timmy was an absolute prince, and came through in a pinch for us.) I really wanted to do girly stuff like paint my nails and do silly things with my hair, but I didn't make it past the facial. And given the amount of coffee I drank, it's probably for the best. I had also hoped I'd get more of a chance to communicate with other participants, but I spent too much time trying to think about what to post and ran out of time.

I'd also hoped that I would be sparkling and witty and display occasional moments of brilliance, but that didn't happen either. But then again, I'm not all that sparkling and witty in my normal posts, so why did I think that would change today?

And of course, just as I was starting to write my post, the computer crashed. Thankfully we were able to reboot it in time to get something up by 7:30.

Zappagirl is currently apologizing to her cats for messing up their sleep schedules. I'm wearing my blue tinted sunglasses, because it's just too damn bright in here.

Four posts to go, and I still have no idea what to write about.

Paisley let me know earlier that she and her husband have become addicted to Buffy the Vampire Slayer through the syndicated episodes. Hee hee hee. Slowly but surely, all of my friends are beginning to see the light. Zappagirl and Musashi have both bought the first two seasons on DVD. Granted, Zappagirl and I started watching the episodes in order, but we crapped out somewhere in the middle of Season One. One night, we're going to get really caffeinated and have a Buffython.

Not anytime soon, though. The thought of drinking massive amounts of coffee and staying up late just doesn't sound appealing at the moment.

Oh, that reminds me. The syndicated episode tonight is "Restless," and I wouldn't mind having that one on tape. But the idea of watching a really surreal episode that takes place in the Scooby Gang's dreams isn't sitting too well with me at the moment. Perhaps I'll just set the timer on the VCR and call it an early night.

Oh, crap. I just got my second wind, and now I'm never going to get to sleep after this.

Zappagirl and I just took a couple of pictures when we were in the exhausted phase. Unfortunately, Timmy has gone to bed (like any sane person would do), so we won't get them posted until some time tomorrow.

Staying up all night is much easier to do when you don't have to do it. On any other weekend, I'd probably still be up at this hour, curled up in bed and watching the early morning news. (Oh, that sounds so nice right now. Must not linger on that thought for too long. I'm trying not to be too whiny.)

Someday we're going to look back on this and laugh. Oh wait. We already are laughing about it. But giggling like lunatics is a completely different kind of laughing.

As soon as coffee is in your stomach, there is a general commotion. Ideas begin to move... similes arise, the paper is covered. Coffee is your ally and writing ceases to be a struggle. -- Honoré de Balzac (1799-1859)

Yeah, whatever. Obviously this man never participated in Blogathon.

You know, as we get closer to the end of this thing, and I think that I've completely lost my mind, I'm really glad that I'm not alone in this. Judging from the email that's been coming from the mailing list, everyone's brains are collectively turning to mush.

Zappagirl just spent a good five minutes cackling wildly for no apparent reason. I'm shuffling around the room like a little old woman, muttering to myself. My eyes are glazing over. At least I'm not drooling yet.

A little less than three hours. I can do it... I think I can, I think I can, I think I can....

Nothing interesting to say in this post, I guess. Nothing to see, move along, move along. Maybe I'll have a sudden burst of intellect before I post at 7.

Please tell me there's still some coffee left.

My eyes are starting to hurt. I have a giant achy knot between my shoulders. My brain has completely shut down. I can't think of a single thing to talk about. Help me, CNN!

Oh, here we go. The Russian Tea Room is closing. Man, that's just wrong. First The Fantasticks, now this.

I'm having trouble typing at the moment. I just found myself staring at the keyboard, trying to figure out why I was holding down the shift key. Oh yeah, I was going to capitalize something. Duh.

The sun is just starting to come up here. I can just barely see the outlines of the trees across the street. The few functioning brain cells left in my head are screaming, "Go to bed!"

Nope, nope. Not gonna do it. I'm in for the long haul. Even if I have to drag myself slowly across the finish line, I'm going to see this through.

In an effort to find something of substance to say, I'm checking out the news to find out what's going on in the world besides Blogathon.

I'm happy to report that all nine of the trapped miners in Pennsylvania were rescued.

Just when I thought that the human race couldn't get any dumber, someone's gotta go and prove me wrong.

"They said '100 percent beef.' I thought that meant it was good for you," Barber told Newsday. "I thought the food was OK." What the hell? I mean, really. This is the kind of person they have to tell that using your hair dryer in the shower might be hazardous to your health. I see news stories like this, and I suddenly feel much better about myself.

There's a reason why the Darwin Awards were created....

OK, this is the funniest song ever written. (The mp3 is here. Especially when you actually know someone like that... but I won't go into that subject at the moment.

We have officially reached the point of insanity. We're singing along to the South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut soundtrack and doing the voices. Our version of "What Would Brian Boitano Do?" was beau-ti-ful.

I'm reaching the point where I'm having difficulty focusing on anything for longer than 2 seconds, which is affecting my ability to post coherently.

Sleep deprivation is bad, mmmkay?

Mental note to self: break returns are very very important when posting links to photos. You'd think I was tired or something.

It's my turn to pick music. I've been forbidden from playing anything grumpy or depressing. Guess that means no Radiohead, huh. Thom Yorke always sounds depressing, no matter what he's singing about. He could be singing a song about puppies and kitties and strolling in the sunshine, and it would still sound like it was time to break out the razor blades. "Knives Out," indeed.

Zappagirl's reading me questions from Bethump'd (we never did around to playing), and I'm just looking at her blankly. I'm having trouble comprehending the English language at this point. Actual thinking is out of the question.

Everything is becoming a weird stream of consciousness thing at this point. Timmy just sent her a link, and she asked me to read it to her. "Give it to me, baby," she said. And suddenly Rick James is running through my head.

Who needs drugs? At this point, the mixture of caffeine, Bailey's, and sleep deprivation are doing odd things to my head.

I've selected "Absolutely Fabulous" by Pet Shop Boys for the moment. Techno, techno, bloody techno!

The main thing that's frustrating me at the moment is not having enough time to do anything except post, update information in my template, and go to the bathroom. Even with the two computers, both Zappagirl and I have been playing musical chairs. Since the older computer is slower to update, that one's dedicated to Rants From the Queen City, while the newer computer is handling the multiple tasks of my posts, posts to For My Aunt Charlotte, plus the editing and preparation of all of the pictures, plus Zappagirl's personal (nonjournal) email.

I love the fact that there are so many people participating in this event, and that we're raising lots of money for so many worthy causes, but I wish I had more of an opportunity to see what everyone else is doing. Thankfully most people are talking about leaving the webring information on their pages, so hopefully I'll get a chance to look around once the smoke clears.

Everyone, keep up the good work. Only five more hours to go!

The music of the moment is now Vault by Def Leppard. Makes me want to have big scary 80's metal hair.

More results from the Writer's group poetry exercises...

Write a poem using the following words: boondoggle, designate, mourning, herb, plentiful, and runaway.

My attempts a horticulture have gone awry,
The herb garden a mere boondoggle.
The mint and thyme send up sickly sprouts
The parsley, once plentiful
Invaded and consumed by a rogue band of runaway bunnies.
I designate this a day of mourning,
And decide to stick to a simpler hobby.

Write a poem using the follwing words: merrymake, priceless, vicar, lance, feather, average.

O priceless day beyond compare!
'Tis no average morn.
Vicar, put aside your tomes,
Soldier, lay down lance and horn.
Adorned with feather and ribbon bright
Let us merrymake 'til it be night.

Holy crap, I actually wrote something that rhymed. Granted, it sounds like something from Shakespeare's reject pile, but remember, we only had five or ten minutes to make some sense of the random words we selected (by the tried and true method of opening a dictionary to a page, closing your eyes, and pointing).

And another haiku, this one using the words interpose, plead, and vulgar.

Vulgar words offend
Plead your case to the world, and
I shall interpose

Dorothy Parker, eat your heart out. Not.

Time for the seventh inning stretch. I'm starting to get crampy from sitting all day.

Yes, I know that the link to Ignatius in his Christmas oufit isn't working. We have tech support working on it right now.

I love the fact that Timmy's helping us from San Francisco and Paisley's contributing her bit from New Orleans. It's a multi-city effort! Next year, maybe I'll try to talk Roger Mexico into contributing some music to the cause. You can check out his stuff at Garageband if you're interested in what he's already got out there. He hasn't uploaded anything new lately, but he burned me a copy of two songs he's done recently, and played me a couple of other things he's working on. His music is experimental and not for all tastes, but I'm fond of it. I once told him that listening to it was like giving my synapses a stretching exercise.

But then again, I'm a bit biased.

I sent him the first half of my novel a few weeks ago, and haven't heard anything back yet. That means either he hates it and is trying to figure out how to avoid telling me that it sucks, or he's simply been too busy to sit down and read it. (It's 200 pages long at the moment.) From what I know of his work schedule, I'm guessing it's the latter, but the paranoid part of me is fearing the worst.

Still more about Lucky Dogs from Paisley... a picture of a cart.

More pictures, courtesy of Timmy...

Zappagirl models her facial mask




Me modelling my facial mask (ugh, I'm wincing as I type this...)




Ignatius shows off his roller disco look




Ignatius in a festive Christmas ensemble




More Ignatius, in a lovely velvet suit (but regrettable not Blue Velvet)




Look! Ignatius won homecoming queen!




And finally, for those readers who've been around long enough to know about Full Contact Poetry (the poetry group that I'm in with Rosencrantz, Guildenstern, Paisley, Diamond Doug, and Citizen Nick), here's the infamous "rock stars" shot from the Volk Gallery show. Our special guest Lady Monster is in the back drinking a beer.




Zappagirl just brought up the iced coffee, which we will be spiking with Bailey's. Yep, we're adding alcohol to the mix.

More from Paisley on why our mascot is named Ignatius:

"See, in "Confederacy of Dunces", Ignatius is morbidly obese (from eating too many Lucky Dogs--there's probably a website about those, too.  I still haven't had one.).  So, naming a skeleton after him strikes me as funny."

Here's a link I found about Lucky Dogs, Paisley. And now you've made me hungry again.

I just took a look at my archives, and it is as I feared. My posts are tapering in Internet Explorer, and the posts from this morning are looking really weird. If anyone who is more HTML savvy than I am stumbles across this page and can tell me how to fix it, I'd be ever so appreciative.

Many of my regular readers have been out of town for the past two weeks, at back-to-back festivals in New York, and have no idea that Zappagirl and I are doing this. I'm sure they're going to be very confused when they check in and see all of this silliness.

To go along with the disco soundtrack, we have now dressed Ignatius in roller disco garb. We need help, seriously.

We had planned to play dress up as well, but in my rush to get out of the house this morning, I didn't have time to peruse my wardrobe and select fun outfits. I also forgot my tiara, which has been bumming me out all day. I really wanted shots of me posting with a sparkly little crown in my hair. 'Cause I'm just that cool, you know. We may go through Zappagirl's closet and see if anything in there will fit me, but since she is considerably shorter than I am, it'll be a challenge.

We shall see, I guess. The night is still young.

You know, if I'd stop futzing about with my template and correcting my mistakes as I catch them, I'd actually be able to post on time. Oh well, I've been reasonably close so far, and I haven't actually missed a post yet.

And for those of you keeping score at home, we are officially two thirds of the way there.

Tom Jones has been replaced by Pure Disco. Now if only I'd brought the proper costuming...

Listening to Abba at the moment. My life is better than "Dancing Queen." Or at least it will be once I get more coffee. My body has just figured out that I've been up for 18 hours and is kind of fighting me about the prospects of being awake for another 8 or so.

Wow. I'm not a photogenic person by nature, but the picture of me with the facial mask on is just atrocious. Maybe we won't send that one to Timmy for posting after all...

The facial is complete, and my face is all smooth and pink, and not gross and oily like before. Now to paint my toenails... I won't be able to do my fingernails since I don't want to get Purple Iris polish all over Zappagirl's keyboard.

For those who are interested, this is why Paisley thinks our mascot should be named Ignatius.

Obnoxiously cute kitty pictures are ready for your viewing pleasure.

Here's Ma Huang, my jittery kitty.





And here's Kismet, also known as Princess Pretty Paws.





And here's a picture of Kemper watching the Warner Brothers animated animation piece that Zappagirl has in her computer room.


Awwww. So cute. Stop laughing at me.

Icky green mask is on. Pictures are coming soon.

Apparently my Hotmail account was bouncing emails back earlier. I haven't the vaguest idea why, since it's only half full at the moment. Things seem to be working at the moment, so if something you sent was returned, give it another try.

Paisley has checked in with a suggestion for our Dead Guy mascot: Ignatius. I'm liking the sound of it. Can anyone beat that?

The music has been temporarily changed to The Lead and How to Swing It by Tom Jones. The goofiness is starting to set in, I can feel it.

I just realized that I have the results of the writing exercises I mentioned earlier in one of the notebooks in my bag. So here, for posterity's sake, are my silly poems written on the fly back in February...

Haiku using the words "fugue," nut," and "shampoo."

Nut and berry scent
Clairol ecstatic fugue state
Damned herbal shampoo

Haiku using the words "goner," "pheasant," and "rod."

Rod spins over fire
Bright plumage, 'tis a goner
Pheasant under glass

Haiku using the words "frame," "microcosm," and "sprightful."

Frame this moment now
You, sprightful in your joy of
Spring's microcosm

Hey, I didn't say they were good.

Pictures of the kitties are en route to Timmy as we speak. I need to think of something nice to do for him in return for all of his help with getting our pictures out there.

Zappagirl just got an email from Flounder, her former supervisor. He's been following us for much of the day, and had remarked that my posts were a bit longer than hers have been. Obviously the man hasn't read the posts I usually write.

Posting in short bursts has been a challenge, since I usually blather on and on for 1500 - 2000 words per post on a single topic. I'm looking upon this as another writing exercise, stretching muscles that I don't usually use. I sometimes have a hard time expressing my thoughts in a brief and succinct manner. As I once explained to a friend, it's why I prefer message boards to chat rooms. I want to allow myself time to think through what I'm writing, and make sure that I cover all the points that need to be included. On average, it takes me two hours to write, edit, and post an entry. Today I don't have that luxury.

A while back Rosencrantz had a writer's group that met monthly at her house, and we did a few writing games to get our brains working. One of them was picking three words at random out of the dictionary and writing a short poem using those words. We had five or ten minutes to complete each exercise. (We even tried haiku a few times.) It was difficult, but we actually got a few sensible verses out of it.

Hmm... I wonder where Zappagirl's dictionary is. That could keep me busy if I get stuck on what to write next.

Since Zappagirl and I had a short burst of energy for a minute or two, we took advantage of it and straightened up the computer room. It's amazing how much of a mess we'd made sitting here for 14 hours doing nothing except posting.

After we finish this post, we're going to take a few more pictures, then start the girly stuff. Really. This time I mean it. We're still contemplating taking pictures of ourselves with the funky green masks on our faces. Yes, after all this time of hiding behind my alias, I'm thinking about posting a picture of myself looking as unattractive as possible. Maybe I'll actually post a picture where I look presentable to balance it out.

And we'll also be posting pictures of my cats, who are back at my house, probably trashing the joint. Yeah, I know. Just what the internet needs - more cat pictures. But my kitties are the closest I'll ever get to having kids, and they're awfully sweet.

We have now entered the dancing portion of the evening... Perkigoth Radio just played Dead or Alive's "You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)", followed by the B-52's "Channel Z." I'm all giddy.

I find it funny that I went through my entire CD collection the other night and picked out a bunch of discs to bring over (56 in all, not counting the dozen or so in my car), and the only disc that we've listened to so far was Chronicles by Rush, which Zappagirl borrowed from me some months ago. We had to pull it by the end of the first disc, though. Geddy Lee's voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard after a while.

And now Perkigoth is playing OMD's "Tesla Girls." Time to get funky and shake my groove thang.

OK, the pictures that we have taken so far should be showing on the sidebar. More to come as long as Timmy is willing to help us out....

Our skeleton mascot still needs a name. At this point I'm calling him Manny after the main character in Grim Fandango, but I don't remember any point in the game where Manny had to dress in drag. Anyone else got any ideas?

Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?

My allergies have been acting up lately, so I've been having to take Benedryl to keep from being a big gross snotty mess. Unfortunately, diphenhydramine is making me a little groggy. (At least it's only the 12.5 mg per capsule formula. If I was taking full strength I'd be out like a light. After all, it's the secret ingredient in Tylenol PM.) Time for more coffee, I guess.

The food arrived precisely at the halfway point. Perhaps it was a reward for making it this far. My mouth's all a-tingle from the hot and spicy chicken, but mmmm is it yummy.

Apparently, at long last, we have pictures! Major big props to Timmy for uploading them. They're not organized on one page, but I'll add the links to my sidebar as soon as I finish my dinner.

The girly stuff will be starting soon as well. Besides the aforementioned facials, there will be toenail painting and eyebrow waxing included in the festivities.

So somewhere down the road, one of my posts will be written while I'm sitting here with watery eyes after Zappagirl has yanked hair out of my eyebrows. Ouch!

One must suffer to be beautiful, I suppose. Actually I'm not sure why I'm all so concerned about prettying myself up, since the only souls that will be seeing me tonight will be Zappagirl and the kitties. (Well, unless we get brave enough to actually take pictures of ourselves and post them to the photojournal....)

Man, I swore I wasn't going to post this, but I just gotta do it...

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

It's goofy as hell, and the squirrel cracks me up for some reason. The only problem is the song has a tendency to get stuck in my head, and I find myself quietly singing "Gonads and strife, gonads and strife..." to myself in inappropriate places like the supermarket. I also sing it whenever the Geico Insurance commercial with the high-fiving squirrels comes on.

But then again, I have a tendency to sing inappropriate songs in inappropriate places a lot. When I went to the store earlier, I was singing along to "Fired" on Ben Fold's Rockin' the Suburbs while I was looking for a parking space, and when it got to the end of the song where he throws in a stylized harmonic "Motherfucker" just because he can, I realized I was driving past an elderly gentleman walking into Kroger's. My window was down, and I had the stereo turned up pretty loud.

Yeah, I'm a classy babe.

And with this post, we have just reached the halfway mark of Blogathon! Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

I found this link last night via Three Way Action. Apparently this guy has decided that he knows music better than everyone else in the whole world, and should be able to dictate what should and should not be in my CD collection.

You know what, Mr. Wesley A. Kose? Bite me. I have several of these albums, and I wouldn't trade them for the world. Many of the others are ones I've considered buying at one time or another. In fact, I have my copies of I Might Be Wrong and Dark Side of the Moon with me right now, and the only reason why I didn't bring Whatever and Ever Amen with me is because Zappagirl has a copy, so if I want to listen to "Selfless, Cold, and Composed" I just need to run downstairs and grab it.

I can only imagine what your list of CDs I should have in my collection looks like. Who died and made you the head of the Music Gestapo?

OK, Blogger ate my post. We'll try again.

I discovered why I was so sluggish and cranky earlier. I made a pot of decaf accidentally. Decaf, people. It was the bad sitting next to the coffee maker, so I just assumed and filled up the filter without looking at the bag.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

A new, caffeinated pot has been made. And since I used up almost all of the decaf, there's no danger of me making the same mistake twice.

I've just come to the conclusion that we have enough food for three days. Granted, most of it is junk food. But we still bought entirely too much food, and we're still calling for Chinese food. I'm going to gain a jillion pounds this weekend.

And I'm back on the advertising jag again. In an attempt to find something about the aforementioned Wendy's commercial, I found a list of the top 50 commericals of all time from TV Guide.

This is what happens when I play with Google. Everything becomes a big game of connect the dots.

The thermos is empty again. Time to make the donuts... er, coffee.

And Zappagirl has made the executive decision that it's time to order Chinese food. General Tso's chicken! Yummy! Mouth on fire, but still yummy!

To keep everyone busy while waiting for the skeleton fashion shoot to be finished, here's links to pictures of Zappagirl's cats. Notice that neither of them look very happy about being photographed.

While preparing the pictures of our skeleton mascot, Zappagirl and I just had one of those moments where we time-share the same brain. One of the pictures features the bony guy in a fabulous pink evening gown, and as she was titling the picture ("deadguyevening.jpg"), we both recited the line from the 1985 Russian Fashion Show commercial for Wendy's.

"Evening wear! Very nice!"

Of course, this has been a running joke in my family for years. One of my uncles has a tendency to pick up a few catch phrases from popular culture and work them into his own repertoire. He very seldom retires the catch phrases. He's still using the "...and don't call me Shirley" line from Airplane!. It's kind of goofy, but very endearing.

And then again, I still quote Airplane! myself quite frequently. Hell, even GeekMan (in his former incarnation as Crew), quoted it when he shortened my alias to Myo.

What can I make of this? Why, I can make a hat or a brooch or a pterodactyl....

Skeleton pictures coming soon, I swear. We need to email them to Timmy, so he can post them and send us the link. Patience, grasshopper, patience.

Hmmm. In my attempts to find a decent link to the Sunshine Family, I've now discovered that there were several different incarnations. All of the links I found were later versions with different clothes or two kids instead of one. I also found out that there were grandparent dolls, and an African-American version called the Happy Family. I had no idea.

The brownies are ready. Chocolately goodness.

Back to randomly searching on Google for obscure childhood toys. I'm having a surreal nostalgic moment reminiscing over possessions long since sold in yard sales ages ago.

I just spent the last fifteen minutes digging through a suitcase of random doll clothes, looking for new outfits for our still-to-be-named mascot. Cannot stop giggling. We're just hoping we can manage to get the tennis dress on him, or the bathing suit with the scuba goggles.

In the process of rummaging through the suitcase, found a few of the dolls, including a Darci (she was a fashion model, and had her own disco playset) and Steve and Stephie Sunshine. No sign of baby Sweets, though.

I also had the Sunshine Family when I was a child. They were the smaller hippie cousins of Barbie and Skipper, and all of the playsets included craft ideas like macrame baby swings and belts that they could sell from the market stand which fit on the back of the family van. I imagine if fashion dolls went to Dead shows, they were pretty popular and probably made some kickin' hash brownies as well.

Yeah, I had the crunchy granola dolls and never owned a Barbie. My sister had Darci, Donny and Marie, Nina Ballerina, and a few Barbies. Guess which one of us was the primper? Somehow it all makes sense.

One third of the way there!

I think that the problem here is that I'm simply not drinking enough coffee. I'm not tired, just a bit sluggish and lethargic. And a little cranky. I'm sure that another pot or two of coffee and a massive sugar rush from the brownies will take care of that.

And oooh. I have Penguin Peppermints. Caffeination and minty fresh breath!

A year or so ago, Zappagirl bought a game of Skeleton Hangman from the local dollar store. Rather than drawing the little stick figure guy when you make an incorrect guess, you get to actually assemble a skeleton hanging from the gallows. Kinda morbid, but funny as hell. We've decided he's our official mascot for Blogathon, and are currently dressing him up in Barbie clothes that Zappagirl had in the basement. Links to the pictures will be forthcoming as soon as we upload them.

In an effort to get our readers involved, we're asking for suggestions on what to name our mascot. Email me or Zappagirl if you have any ideas.

Yes, the insanity has finally begun. It was just on a time delay, I suppose.

In an attempt to combat the mysterious post tapering that's happening on Internet Explorer, I'm playing with my settings, so if you're just joining us, the stuff from earlier this morning is archived. It's still tapering, but at least it will all be readable on the home page. I'm afraid to think of what it will looks like in the archives, though.

The brownies are in the oven, although we did pull them out to sprinkle M&M's Baking Bits all over the top of them. 'Cuz they weren't chocolately enough already.

To combat the cabin fever that has set in already, we just went out in the front yard and tossed stale waffles like frisbees for the birds. I'm sure that all of Zappagirl's neighbors think we're quite mad.

Zappagirl just broke out the Bethump'd with Words game. Perhaps a game where I actually have to use my brain will help me think of something clever to say here.

Now I know why I don't post as often as other online journalers. It takes me too long to come up with a subject.

The coffee seems to be wearing off. Time to turn the burner back on.

Zappagirl and I are trying to think of things to do besides sit here and stare blankly at the screen. She preheated the oven so we could make the brownies, and then promptly forgot about it for 45 minutes. Oops.

Timmy has come to the rescue on the photojournal issue, and has offered to post them for us. Of course that means we actually have to take pictures. So far the only thing she's bothered to take pictures of are Kemper and Gypsy, her cats. (They're boycotting this madness and have only stopped in the computer room once when the food bowls were empty.) More on that as it develops (no pun intended).

We're considering doing the girly thing and giving ourselves facials. In my rush to leave my apartment, I tossed everything on my bathroom sink counter with me, so I have the entire Mary Kay regimen with me. So there's a good chance that the next post may be done with a bunch of green crap all over my face. Not a pretty mental picture, huh?

Technical difficulties abound. The site that is hosting our photo journal seems to be having problems, and the mysterious tapering continues when I look at my site through Internet Explorer.

I went out for a short peroid of time to go to the store (to get more blue corn chips and ice cream, since I forgot to bring it with me this morning). Apparently everyone in the city has temporarily forgotten how to drive properly. I got stuck behind an elderly couple that didn't seem to understand that they were permitted to drive faster than 10 miles per hour, and the car in front of me took a lifetime to pull into the spot across from me. We'd both found spots at the same time, but the woman driving was still trying to get her car between the lines by the time I'd hit the entrance to the store. Jeez.

I also think that the oil companies have secretly put a sensor in my gas tank that lets them know when I'm approaching empty so they can hike up the prices. I swear that gas is always more expensive when I need it, and the price drops considerably the day after I fill up my tank.

It's a conspiracy, I tell ya.

Sometimes the junk mail that I get in my email box cracks me up. In the last few hours, I've deleted an offer for a low rate mortgage (um, I rent), a special on steaks (steaks? on the internet? why?), numerous invitations to take a look at the triple X picture of the day (um, thanks, but no), an offer to join an online dating service (again, thanks, but no), information on how to finish my degree at home (how do they know I haven't already finished my degree?), and an offer to buy Viagra online. The last one is probably the funniest to me, since I don't suffer from erectile dysfunction (since I'm female), and since according to the idiots that keep bombarding me with dating service junk mail I couldn't find a date by myself to save my life, I really wouldn't have much use for it.

How do I get onto these mailing lists? I know that part of it had to do with a certain site giving out my information without telling me. (Yes, Yahoo, I'm looking at you.) But I still think that part of it is because I opened my big mouth. I was having dinner with Roger Mexico one night, and we somehow got on the subject of porn spam and Hotmail accounts. I remarked that I'd never been received any, and he couldn't believe it. Two days I got bombarded with it, and it hasn't stopped since then.

What I don't get is why Zappagirl still gets relatively little of this crap in her mailbox, and I get the same email from a "nurse" inviting me to read and/or see (wouldn't know which, since I've never bothered to open it) "what she did with two of her patients last night."

Ew, ew, ew.

So is everyone panicking about the asteroid that’s going to hit the earth and wipe out civilization as we know it?

Me neither.

I don’t understand why people get all worked up about stuff like this. It’s going to happen or it’s not going to happen. There’s not a damn thing we can do to change it.

But then again, we got a call from work from a distraught woman who was freaking out because the 17-year cicadas will be back in the Cincinnati area in 2004. She was in tears, folks.

Get a grip, people. Life’s too short.

Oh, and speaking of *NSync, I am positively aghast by something that I saw in the news a while back. No, not Justin and Britney splitting up. No, not Lance going into space.

Joey will be taking over the role of Mark in Rent on Broadway. Why, god, why?

I will admit, however, that even though I’m not a fan of the boys (or any boy band, for that matter), I am impressed by their ability to poke fun at themselves. Their appearance on The Simpsons was pretty funny, and their commercials for Chili’s Baby Back Ribs make me giggle.

You know, I’m not a big baseball fan, but I’m actually considering going to the last hurrah at Cinergy field. It’s a nostalgia thing. As long as I can remember, the stadium’s always been there on the river, and in a few months it will be gone, replaced by a brand new stadium.

But the bobblehead thing scares me. When did these things become the new vogue knick-knack to have again? This is like the third giveaway they’ve done this year. Best Buy sold *NSync bobbleheads last year for Christmas, and they were positively frightening.

Dear Advice Bunny,

Am I going to be completely insane by the time Blogathon is over?

The Advice Bunny says... Today is your lucky day, my friend.

The Advice Duck says... I don't know the answer to your question, but I do think the bunny has been hitting the wacky weed lately.

The other night I came up with a plot idea that I might use for this year's NaNoWriMo entry. Of course, that means I have to finish writing last year's novel.

Well, I really don't, but it's the principle of the thing. I'm currently stalled out at about 50,000 words, but I'm only about halfway through the story. I know where it's going, but the next part is one of the difficult portions to write. Some of the themes and actions addressed in the story are pretty emotionally taxing, and while it's been rather therapeutic to dissect those subjects on the page, actually coming up with the words to tell the story is like reliving those episodes all over again. When I was doing the late night writing sessions with Rosencrantz, we took eight billion cigarette breaks and had mini-therapy sessions in the kitchen.

The next one won't be as traumatic to write, but I need to start researching. I think it might be an "on the road" novel. Of course, I just realized that I'm completely ripping off Rosencrantz. Her first novel was a soul-searching odyssey centering on a traumatic episode and the personal choices made as a result of it. The one she's working on now is a fictional account of a trip she and Guildenstern took out west a few years ago. But since I never get the chance to travel, mine will be completely fictional. I'm not sure if that will make it easier or more difficult to write.

I also haven't figured out if the new attempt will be a sequel of the last novel, or if it will be about completely new characters. Guess I should get cracking on last year's model, and go from there.

After I finish this project, that is.

Wacky hijinks are not ensuing yet, and this means I'm already stumped on what to write about. This does not bode well. I really don't want to have to resort to The Book of Questions this early in the game.

Cute kid stories... that'll work for the moment. My niece Amanda has finally started walking. We had joked that she would never walk since her sister Allison brings anything she wants to her. She'd been doing the "walking along the couch while holding on" thing for a while, but apparently she finally let go and took off. According to my mother, before she starts, she announces it to the entire room by saying, "Ready? Ready? GOOOOOOO!" (Well, it comes out more like "Rea-ey? Rea-ey? GOOOOOOOO!" with the GOOOOOOOO in a really deep determined voice.) And everyone in the room has to cheer when she reaches her destination.

I can't believe that Sydney hasn't talked about this on her page yet. But I'd expect that Amanda is getting into everything now that she can walk, so that's probably keeping her busier than she already was.

And apparently the indentation thing is only happening on Internet Explorer. Zappagirl just checked out my page on Netscape, and she says it looks fine. Weird.

Hmmm. Maybe if I eat something my tummy will stop hurting. Of course, I'm still drinking the coffee, and that's not helping, is it?

I never said I was the brightest crayon in the box.

Another thing that this internet radio station is doing to me is making me think of car commercials. I hear Edgar Winter's "Frankenstein" and all I can think of is Tiger Woods driving an SUV. The Who's "Baba O'Reilly" makes me want to buy a Nissan. (OK, I really don't want to buy one, but you get the point.

I see where this is headed. Before it's over, I'll be popping in the Groove Armada CD so I can dance around the room to "I See You Baby" and think about Mitsubishis.

Have I mentioned that I watch entirely too much television? Or maybe I'm just highly sensitive to advertising.

Ick. I've already reached the point where the coffee is starting to irritate my stomach (we're halfway through the second pot already). Guess it's time to switch to water for a bit.

So we're listening to this classic rock internet radio station, and they just played Blue Oyster Cult's "Don't Fear the Reaper." This brings two things to mind: the opening credits to Stephen King's The Stand, and the Saturday Night Live skit with Christopher Walken. (You know, the Cowbell skit.)

The funny thing is I had never realized there actually was a cowbell in that song. And now that's all I can hear.

Guess what? I got a fever! And the only prescription.. is more cowbell!

Wow. It's only 11:25, and I'm already losing my mind. Scary, scary, scary.

I just checked my page and noticed that all of my posts are progressively indenting by one or two spaces the further down the page I go. Hopefully this won't pose a problem. I'd hate to think that somewhere around 10:00 tonight my first posts will just be one word per line. But then again, Blogger's been doing some odd stuff lately. All of my posts on the clipboard are showing up in a different time zone - my last post is showing with a time of 3:15 pm. Ha. Don't I wish it was 3:15.

I suppose now would be a good time to thank my sponsors... major props to Zappagirl, Mom, Monkey, Paisley, and ZappaMom, and the others who chose to remain nameless. You guys all rock so much, and appreciate your moral and monetary support.

(Not that I don't appreciate the folks who weren't able to pledge, but sent along kind words of support. Big hugs to you guys too. It really means a lot to me.)

Zappagirl just broke out the digital camera. Oh no. Am I really awake enough for photos? (When we finally start posting pictures, they'll be available for your perusal here. I'll try to add it to the sidebar for easier access, if Blogger will cooperate and let me edit my template.

Keep your fingers crossed. I'm goin' in....

One of the things that cracks me up about my job is the bad puns that result from the names of the animals that we use for educational demonstrations. The snake names are the worst. For instance, the ball pythons that have been used over the years had names like Tether, Ping Pong, Volley, Crystal, and Spaulding. We also had boa constricters named Julius Squeezer, William Snakespeare, and David Boa. The corn snakes? Caramel, Popcorn, Niblet, and Kernel.

And yes, we do have a box turtle named Yertle and skunks named after cologne fragrances (Chanel, Chloe) and flowers (Daisy). The three banded armadillo is Bocce.

Weird, weird place. Wonderful, wonderful job.

Sometime later today I will probably post about some of the weird phone calls that get forwarded to my office.

Have I mentioned the fact that we ordered the official Blogathon mugs? They arrived yesterday, and I am currently sipping a steaming cup of French Vanilla Cream (black) out of mine. Yep, we're big geeks.

I think it's kind of funny that there are actually people panicking about staying awake for the entire ordeal. I've done fifty-six hours in one stretch. Granted, I didn't enjoy that very much.

I just realized I forgot to bring my knitting. Oh well. As long as I refrain from logging into Pogo, all should be well. It's tempting, but I just know I'll get caught up in a game of Poppit or Sweet Tooth and miss my posting deadline.

Still, that's why I brought my kitchen timer with me, isn't it? A Tweety Bird kitchen timer, no less. My entire kitchen is decorated with Warner Brothers housewares. Not that I planned it that way, but I used to get a heckuva great discount when I worked there. And when they did the coffee house line, I was a goner.

I cannot believe I'm blathering like an idiot about my kitchen decor. Must find a more interesting topic to talk about in the next thirty minutes.

Ah. Much better. The shower made me feel a thousand percent better, and Zappagirl has brought a thermos of coffee up to the computer room because we're just that lazy. Me, personally, I would have moved the coffee maker up here.

The Loverboy on the internet radio station, however, is not doing anything for me. Yeesh. Time to find a new station or a CD before "Working for the Weekend" is stuck in my head.

Crap. Too late. "You wanna piece of my heart?/You better start from the start/You wanna be in the show?/C'mon baby let's go!"

Ow, my head.

I should know better than go out the night before I have to be up for a 24 hour period. But still I went to the employee picnic and had many beers, then went to Daniel's Pub and had more beers with a few co-workers. The Rolling Rock that was purchased for me kept reproducing itself, and Zappagirl and I monopolized the jukebox.

And here it is, the next morning, I've already got one cup of coffee and a Diet Coke in my system, and I've got a lingering headache that won't go away. Plus I probably smell funny, since I woke up too late to shower, and I don't remember where I left the bag o' scooped cat poo when I stopped by to check on Rosencrantz and Guildenstern's kitties. Certainly not in the trash where it belongs. Welcome home, guys! Hope you had a good time! Here's a bag of cat doots!

This is not an auspicious beginning. I think I'm going to go take a shower and have more coffee....

Plans and Schemes

This whole Blogathon thing has spun completely out of control.

When I signed up for the event, I figured it would be a simple thing. Post every 30 minutes for 24 hours, drink a lot of coffee, get sponsors to donate for a good cause. No muss, no fuss.

And then Zappagirl joined in. To say that wacky hijinks have ensued (and will continue to ensue all weekend) is an understatement. Mind you, this isn't a bad thing. It's a good kind of insanity. Whenever we put our heads together, any mundane activity becomes a multimedia song and dance spectacular. (Case in point: the Flat Stanley Project. Within a few hours of receiving the little paper guy in the mail, he had his own email address, website, and Zappagirl had purchased a digital camera so we could take him to the Zoo the following day.)

Tonight after work, I'll be heading over to her house for a planning session. Since she has two computers networked together on her DSL connection (while I have a lowly dialup), we'll be hanging out in her computer room for the duration, drinking coffee and feeding off each other's insanity. We've already had a preliminary planning session, where we spent most of the time making up a shopping list.

Zappagirl: OK. So we're going to need coffee.

Myopic: Lots of coffee, since Friday night is the employee picnic at work and I have to stop in the morning at Rosencrantz and Guildenstern's house to feed their cats before I get here. What else?

Zappagirl: Smokey treats. Fizzy Pop incense, which we already have. Diet Coke. Lemonade. Cake mix.

Myopic: Let's make brownies instead. We made cake for the Fourth of July, after the red white and blue daquiris, remember? Two drunk women in the kitchen making Stars & Stripes Funfetti cake and dancing to disco and the English Beat. Now that was a strange way to celebrate our country's independence.

Zappagirl: Brownies it is. I guess we should get some real food too, huh?

Myopic: Probably wouldn't be a bad idea. So, let's see... food, beverages, smokey treats... bubbles. We need bubbles. And I'm going to probably futz with my hair, so I'll need to bring hair stuff.

Zappagirl: You're dying your hair during this?

Myopic: No, if I was dying my hair I'd need to leave the developer on for 25 minutes, and it drips. I was thinking about putting it up in a bunch of little braids or something. Girly stuff like that.

Zappagirl: Gotcha. Oh, and I need to pick up some vinegar.

Myopic: Vinegar? Are we dying eggs?

Zappagirl: No, vinegar will take the smoky smell out of the air. You know, for when the room's got that "not so fresh" feeling.

Myopic: Ewwwww. Shall I bring over our boyfriends?

Zappagirl: Sure, why not?

Myopic: Are you still inviting folks over for drinks that night? Do I need to pack formal attire?

Zappagirl: I'm not sure yet. We'll call that a definite maybe. Oh, I got the photo album up and running. We can post pictures for posterity's sake.

Myopic: So, between posting every thirty minutes, possibly hosting a cocktail party, baking brownies, and doing who knows what else, we're going to have time to take pitcures and upload them? You're insane.

Zappagirl: And this is something new? Oh, don't forget your knitting. You can work on your sock in between posts.

I'm exhausted just thinking about all of this.

Zappagirl's newest idea is to assemble a Blogathon 2002 soundtrack, make mix CDs and send them to any interested parties in exchange for a donation to one of our charities. (Note careful wording to avoid any nasty royalty lawsuits.) So tonight, in addition to finalizing shopping lists and topic suggestions, we'll both be going through our extensive and eclectic CD collections trying to find the perfect music to compliment the atmosphere. More on that as it develops...

I've received lots of notes of encouragement and apologies from readers that feel bad about not being able to make pledges. Thanks to everyone, and don't worry about not being able to pledge. It's the thought that counts, and while raising money for charity is the main reason for all of this, if you don't have the money, it's not the end of the world. But by all means, feel free to tune in and see what's going on. Hopefully we'll be entertaining to someone besides ourselves.

(And if you do want to sponsor us, it's not too late. As far as I understand, pledges will be accepted through the end of the event.)

Once I know what's going on with the soundtracks and any other crazy ideas that may result from the next few days' adventures, I'll let everyone know. I'll also be adding the address for the online photojournal as soon as I'm completely sure where it is.

Slightly less than 64 hours to go. I'm not sure if I'm looking forward to this weekend or if I'm terrified about the resulting weirdness.

(Edited to add: I have the link to the photojournal, which will be filled with many many silly pictures quite soon, I'm sure. If for some reason the link doesn't work, it's at Imira and can be found by searching for "Zappagirl" under username or "Blogathon" under album title.)

Love Note to My Readers

One of the biggest debates in keeping an online journal is for whom exactly you are writing. Do you, as the writer, post the entries to entertain an audience, or is it a place to record personal triumphs and setbacks?

I've posed this question to myself many times. My primary reason for having this page is to vent and express my feelings, but I feel very priveleged and honored to have folks that read this page and have taken an interest in the mundane goings-on in my life. I never expected to have thousands of adoring groupies, and I doubt that I ever will, but it blows me away when I hear from someone I've never met that has been keeping up with my exploits.

I've had complete strangers write to debate presidential elections with me. I've had people check in, worried about my broken toe, sharing my sorrow in the loss of my cat. Hell, one of my fellow bloggers (yes, GeekMan, I'm talking 'bout you) showed more concern over my questionable sanity and well-being last summer than some people that I'd known for 10 years.

And it's times like those that simply amaze me. I get my Sitemeter stats on Friday mornings and realize that people that I've never met in countries that I've never been to have been reading about my daily exploits. Yeah, my numbers aren't anywhere close to massive. I never expected them to be. But I also didn't expect to be read in 9 different time zones this week.

And I know that a page hit doesn't necessarily equal an avid reader. It could just as well be a person who was looking for something else, and stumbled across my page because the search engine gods decided to be kind to my page. They could have taken one look at my post, thought "What the hell is THIS?" and gone on to the next return on Google. Or maybe they stuck around. Who knows?

My latest source of amazement has been the response I received about Blogathon 2002. I had feared that I wouldn't have the required three sponsors by the Saturday deadline, so I had started the ball rolling by sponsoring myself. I figured that I would con my mother and Zappagirl into pledging and then I'd be fine.

Here it is, Friday, and I have six sponsors. Mom and Zappagirl chipped in, Paisley added a bid, and Monkey (one of Zappagirl's coworkers) jumped into the fray yesterday. I've met this guy twice, and he's supporting me. How cool is that?

Oh, the latest update on Blogathon... Zappagirl has decided to play as well, blogging for SPCA Cincinnati with Rants from the Queen City, and starting a new page called For My Aunt Charlotte benefitting the American Cancer Society. Since she has two computers networked together at her house, I'll be heading up to her house for a 24 hour session of tag-team blogging. She's talking about inviting people from her job up that night for drinks. We're trying to figure out a way to upload any pictures we take with the digital camera so we can keep a photo journal of this as well. Much coffee will be brewed. Bad 80s music will be played. Wine may possibly enter the picture at some point. We will probably smoke entirely too much. There may be costume changes involved. (I'm still debating over whether I should wear my tiara.) Wacky hijinks will ensue.

Of course, the question of what to write about for 24 hours still remains. I'm sure many ideas will come to us spontaneously, and I'll be packing The Book of Questions or something like that for moments when we get stumped. I had another idea, but I'll need the help of my readers....

(This is the audience participation section. Your help is greatly encouraged and apreciated.)

It's been a while since I've asked folks to introduce themselves to me, and I'm curious to know about who's out there reading. If you have the time, drop me a line and tell me about yourself. Nothing too specific, who you are (alias if you prefer one), where you're from, how you stumbled across my page. If you have your own site or something you feel like pimping, then pimp away. And if you feel like posing a question or subject to be covered in the mad posting of Blogathon, ask away. I'll do my best to answer what I get to the best of my ability.

Just think, now's your chance to ask me anything you've ever wanted! And since I'll be more hopped up on caffeine than usual, the answers might be pretty surreal. If you're not ready to stand up and introduce yourself, don't worry. You rock all the same.

I'm going over to Zappagirl's for a Blogathon preliminary planning session tonight after working at the Cincinnati Pops performance at Riverbend tonight. (My mother also works for the Zoo, and has asked me to help pass out ADOPT information before the show starts. So if you happen to be at Riverbend tonight and you see a redhead in a Zoo shirt who looks like she really needs a nap, it's probably me. Stop and say hello.) More news as it develops....

New Toy

Before I start, a few things...

First off, hearty and rather belated congratulations to GeekMan and HoBiscuit on their engagement. Where do I send the toaster?

I haven't heard from Musashi since he moved, but I'm assuming the move went well. According to his brief update in his forum, he's still waiting for DSL hookup; hopefully all will go smoothly and he'll be updating soon.

And, if you haven't heard, Pamie (formerly of Squishy fame) is back. Her journal is one of the main reasons I started writing here, and it's good to hear what's going on in her life again.

And, against all better judgement, I've decided to participate in Blogathon 2002. Yeah, I can't get around to updating my site once a week, but I'm planning to park my butt in front of my computer for 24 solid hours and update every 30 minutes. Do me a favor and support this insanity by sponsoring me, would you? My charity is Planned Parenthood. It's tax deductible, for those of you who worry about those things. (I need at least 3 sponsors to play, so I need a little participation here, OK?)

Now that I have the public service annnouncements out of the way, on to today's subject!

It finally happened. I bought a DVD player.

After mulling over whether I should cough up the bucks to listen to bonus commentaries in the privacy of my own home or whether I should just continue to live vicariously through Zappagirl for a bit longer, she made the decision for me by mentioning three key things:

Sony has a teeny tiny new player. Compact is key in my house, since I have the contents of a three bedroom/two bath house crammed into my cozy one bedroom apartment. It fits on the bookshelf next to my stereo, and replaces the non-functioning CD component of my stereo. I can listen to CDs without dragging the boombox into the living room! Joy! Plus the new DVD player is really cute. I can color-coordinate the cover with the rest of my decor, for crying out loud. Just adorable.

Impromptu was re-released in DVD format only. I've been haunting video stores for years in hopes that this movie would come back into print so I could return Rosencrantz's battered copy. Yeah, most people buy action-packed visually intense films for their new DVD player. I buy costume dramas with Hugh Grant and Judy Davis. What of it? (If it matters, I also bought Run Lola Run, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and Ben Folds Five: the Complete Sessions at West 54th. Does that make it any better?)

My purchase included a trial subscription to Netflix, which has to be the most ingenious site ever created. Now, through the magic of the internet, I can order movies without having to get dressed and leave the house! I can't movie binge too badly, since I can only have three movies out at a time! (I have a bad habit of renting six movies at a time, then running out of time to watch them. There is almost nothing is more embarrassing than having to bow out of social plans because you haven't finished watching a snoozer like Waking Life. Yeah, sure, you could just return it unwatched, but it's the principle of the thing. You shelled out good money for that piece of crap.) And most importantly, there are no late fees. (As embarrassing as cancelling plans to watch rented crap before the due date is, it pales in comparison to returning a movie that sucked in ways previously unknown to mankind, and having to pay extra because you returned the big steaming pile of poo late. The Crow: City of Angels... 'nuff said.)

Zappagirl (who is the best person ever for making sense of all of the wires and technical stuff) made fun of me the entire night after my purchase because I was so giddy about my new toy. Well, part of the time. I fluctuated between "hee hee hee got a new DVD player hee hee hee" and "oh my, that's going to leave a dent in my checkbook." I'm currently in the giddy stage. I've resolved the money thing; it's my money and if I don't spoil myself, who will?

Knowing that I've borrowed Zappagirl's copy of This is Spinal Tap is helping with the giddiness, too. They go to eleven. Heehee.

So now I'm busy building up my queue at Netflix, and trying to figure out what crackmonkey categorized their movies. Turner and Hooch belongs in Action/Adventure about as much as Showgirls belongs in Drama. (Sorry, they're both comedies in my book, but only one of them was supposed to be funny.) Now's my chance to see all of those movies that, as a movie buff, I should have seen by now. Part of me wants to sit down with all of the AFI lists and start adding movies.

(And yes, Roger Mexico, Apocalypse Now is on the list. Now stop bugging me about it.)

So, having said all this, movie night's at my place. Bring your own Sno-Caps; I'll provide the popcorn.

One Nation Under a Coke Can

You know, I generally try to keep political views out of my posts. This little rest stop on the internet was never meant to be a social commentary on current events; there are plenty of sites out there for that, and they do it much better than I could ever possibly do it.

However, there are some things that really tick me off, and sometimes I feel the need to rant. This is one of those times.

(And yes, I am aware of the fact that this is a very poor choice of day to spout my liberal political views. Let's just say that I'm exercising my right as an American to think independently. That's patriotic, right?)

As nearly everyone knows at this point, the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals ruled last week that reciting the Pledge of Allegiance in schools is unconstituional because of the inclusion of the words "one nation under God." The outrage was predictable. The Senate passed a resolution 99-0 "expressing support for the Pledge" and calling the ruling "stupid" and "outrageous." House Speaker Dennis Hastert remarked, "Obviously, the liberal court in San Francisco has gotten this one wrong. Of course, we are one nation, under God. The Pledge of Allegiance is a patriotic salute that brings people of all faiths together to share in the American spirit."

Um, no. We are not one nation under God. By using the term "God," the Pledge has immediately ostracized people who don't follow a Judeo-Christian path. Atheists are not part of one nation under God. Agnostics are not part of one nation under God. People who do not subscribe to a monotheistic masculine gendered view are left out in the cold by this statement. I was under the impression that one of the tenets that this country was founded upon was religious freedom, which I always intrepreted as not endorsing any particular form of worship. But those two words essentially send the message of my god is better than your god (or gods, or goddess, and if you don't believe in anything... well I don't know what to tell you. Sinner.)

Pretty much every message board I've visited in the last week has been fervently discussing this topic, and one of the suggestions that has been put forth is that anyone offended by saying the Pledge should just opt out. After all, no one's forcing you to say it, right? Wrong. And wrong again. Even in cases where a student would be allowed to opt out, I don't believe that many students would even think about that option. The last thing any elementary student wants to do is stick out like a sore thumb every morning in homeroom. Hell, most students just learn it by rote without even thinking about what it is they're saying every morning. Does your average first grader know what "indivisible" means?

Sure, sure. I hear you. Let's teach them about the Pledge, then! Perhaps that would be a good idea, since we could then explain why the phrase "under God" was added in the first place. (As has been noted quite frequently lately, it was added in 1954 to separate us from the godless communists.) Perhaps we could also teach that there was also no mention of "the United States of America" in the original draft as well. Maybe we could start by educating our politicians, since it seems some of them are greatly in need of a history refresher course. (Sen. Kit Bond, R-Missouri, stated,"Our Founding Fathers must be spinning in their graves. This is the worst kind of political correctness run amok." Um, excuse me, Senator Bond, but our Founding Fathers had nothing to do with the phrase in question, or indeed the Pledge itself, since it wasn't written until 1892.)

Religion (or the lack thereof) is a very personal thing. I have no problems with what anyone chooses to believe, unless they try to tell me that I should believe it too. I worked actively in my university's Film Society when we screened both Jean-Luc Godard's Hail Mary, and Martin Scorsese's The Last Temptation of Christ, and our office received many protest calls from people that thought we were heathens and blasphemers who should be lynched on Fountain Square. When I worked in a department store years ago, I had people invite me to Bible studies while I was ringing up their lingerie purchases. A few weeks ago, someone was leaving Jack Chick tracts in the public restrooms in my office building. (I personally find Chick tracts to not only be tasteless and tacky, I think they're a really lazy way to witness. And the small-minded views expressed in them scare the hell out of me.)

Sheesh. At least when I occasionally attended Mass with my boyfriend from several years back, his mother was kidding when she would tell me that she was working on converting me. At least I think she was kidding.

I've even tried to maintain a sense of humor about religion. I thought that Monty Python's Life of Brian and Kevin Smith's Dogma were hilarious (not to mention the latter being intelligent in its theme of the message being the important part rather than the religion). I have recommended Good Omens and American Gods (now in paperback!) to practically anyone who would listen to me. I have coveted a Buddy Christ Dashboard Figure for years, and laughed at the kitschy goodness found at Cheesy Jesus and the religious action figures at Jesus Christ Superstore.

And because of this, in some people's eyes I'm a bad person and I'm headed straight to hell in the proverbial handbasket And to that, I say whatever.

A friend of mine from college came up with a great theory that I still use to this day. She had been a member of Campus Crusade for Christ, and the organization wasn't too happy about the fact that she was hanging out with "unacceptable" people. (Regulars at our lunch table were an eclectic group: young and old, male and female, straight and gay, with several different religious beliefs represented.) She had stood up for her beliefs and was essentially asked not to come back to the next Campus Crusade meeting. She explained her views to us one day by placing a Coke can in the middle of the lunch table. "OK," she began. "That's God."

"And you," she continued, pointing to the person across the table from her, "are Catholic." She continued around the table, assigning each of us a hypothetical religion. The person at the end of the table who couldn't see the can clearly was deemed agnostic. The person who'd left for statistics before this experiment began was deemed atheist.

"We're all seeing the same thing, right? Just different sides. And my point of view isn't any more right than anyone else's at the table. Just like no spiritual belief is any better than the other."

Wow. Wisdom from a cola. Apparently the Campus Crusade for Christ folks didn't like her metaphor. I don't know, maybe they were Pepsi drinkers.

And that's the way I feel about the whole Pledge issue. In the insistence that the phrase "under God" does not favor any particular denomination, we're only validating the side of the can with the logo on it. Those folks that are looking at the nutriton facts and the ingredients are being told their view isn't the right one. Maybe not in so many words, but the meaning comes through all the same. Doubly so for those who prefer Mountain Dew or A&W Root Beer.

The simple solution, of course, is just to drop the troublesome phrase and make saying the Pledge an optional thing rather than an unspoken requirement. That doesn't fly too well with the "under God" supporters either. I've heard comments ranging from "people would be offended it we changed it now after all this time" to "it doesn't really have any spiritual significance; it's just a symbolic thing." Well, which is it? Is it merely a symbolic gesture that doesn't mean anything, or does it carry so much meaning that its removal would cause pandemonium?

Personally, I like the ideas presented in a lot of different religions. I have a shelf on my bookcase that I've jokingly referred to as the "deity of the month shelf." On it, I have figures of Buddha, Kwan Yin, the Navaho storytelling god, a Polynesian Tiki god, a voodoo doll, a pink plastic rosary, a Mexican Day of the Dead pipe, the office goddesses Stressa and Caffeina, and a jackalope. I have both a King James version of the Bible and several packs of tarot cards. My spiritual beliefs are mine, decisions I made for myself rather than something I was told to believe. I don't fit comfortably under the auspices of any organized religion. Sometimes what I believe in is male, sometimes it's female, and other times it's genderless. I prefer to think of sacred space as any place I feel comfortable meditating upon my feelings, and more often than not it doesn't involve going to a big building with pews and a cross and a man at a podium telling me what's right and wrong.

But I still like to think of myself as a good person; I try to be nice to people around me. I try to be honest and forgiving. But I don't fit nicely into the God-fearing Christian role. (The word "God-fearing" bothers me a lot. The idea of "God is love" seems to contradict it, and confused me to no end as a child in Sunday school.) So tell me, U.S. Senate and Mr. President and anyone else who thinks that "one nation under God" is as American as apple pie, where do I fit in your scheme of things?

I like a lot of different sodas. They all have their pros and cons. Some days a Vanilla Coke sounds appealling, and some days I'm in the mood for a Stewart's Cherries and Cream. And I don't like the idea of proclaiming that only one particular product or flavor is the right one, especially if I have to put my hand over my heart and proclaim it on a daily basis.

Come on, people. There's room enough in the cooler for all of the sodas.