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Natasha, a 5-year-old black macaque walks at the Safari Park near Tel Aviv Tuesday July 20, 2004. The young monkey began recently walking exclusively on her hind legs after a stomach ailment nearly killed her, zookeepers said.(AP Photo/Eli Dasa)

So-- Darwin was right?  We're all just monkeys with stomach aches?

Speaking of being easily distracted . . .   I almost rear ended someone on 360 the other day.  I was driving along-- la-la-la-minding my own business when this Coors Light truck drove by. 

I'm usually not distracted by beer trucks, but this one was craftily painted to attract attention from both sexes.  First, it wasn't a delivery truck, it was a silver SUV.  Second, it had scantily clad women in seductive positions painted all over the sides and back.  Third, (and this is what attracted my attention) it was glitter painted.  It was shiny silver with sparkly glitter paint mesmerizing me as it drove down the highway, making me wish my car was sparkly. 

Everyone knows that men are distracted by pictures of women with breasts on the verge of popping out of their tops, and women are drawn to sparkly things!  That was an ingenious beer truck!

I tried to take an ADD/ADHD test on line, but it took too long to load.  I got tired of waiting. 
Ironic. 
Maybe that was the test.  "How many times will one push the submit button, and for how long will one wait to take the test?  If he pushes the button twelve times in a 30 second span and gives up after a minute and a half  he has it."
If that were the case- I'd have it.

http://www.clarkson.edu/~hollenca/this_land_mov.swf

The first thing I heard when I walked into work this morning:
Two men conversing-
" . . . that really chaps my ass."
"I know."
"I went home last night and went straight to bed, because I knew that today we were going to be f- (glaces at me) screwed!"
"I know! Me too! I didn't even have any beers, I went straight to bed."
"Uh well, I had some beers, but I went straight to bed, but I couldn't sleep, because I didn't have any a/c!"
"Yeah, it's hot . . ."

I tell you what, these were not the kind of men I even wanted to consider with chapped asses, drinking beer in the heat. (Okay, so I don't want to consider anybody in that condition really, but as it turns out my imagination if formidable.)

One of the last things I moved out of the old apartment was the couch. 
 
Long ago and not so far away I thought I was losing my little bitty mind.  I wrapped two presents for Christmas.  I adorned them with mini Hershey bars.  I went to work.  When I came back from work, one present was gone, the other was missing a mini Hershey bar. 
 
I considered the possibility that I was mistaken, that I had not indeed wrapped the second gift, and there had been no mini Hershey bars to speak of.  Slowly, however, I realized that according to all the evidence (tape marks on the remaining present where a mini Hershey bar would have been, the inability to find the missing gift wrapped or unwrapped and the alleged sighting of a mouse of indeterminable size) that to be sure a rodent had absconded with my chocolate and my gift intended for my room mate.
 
I looked everywhere, I really did.  I informed my room mate that there had in fact been a gift, but that a mouse had stolen it.  I’m not absolutely sure she believed me . . . I mean what are the chances after all? 
 
When the couch was moved I found 2 mini Hershey bar wrappers, 1 chewed through wrapper and 1 rhinestone belt (that was the gift.)  Not only that, I found my lost-for-3- months-ring, 2 (unmatched) earrings, 1 shiny gold button and a whole bunch of mouse poop. 
 
Mystery Solved! 

A lesson to everyone (especially males, somehow most females seem to know this innately.)

Hypothetical situation: You and your friend are talking, joking, having a good ole time when suddenly your friend says, "Hey! Now I'm mad at you!" You are baffled. What have you done wrong? You ask, "Why, what happened? Why are you mad?" Your friend explains to you how you have offended him/but-usually-her. This explanation makes no sense at all to you. What do you do?

A.  Say, "Are you crazy? I don't know what you're talking about! Get over it!"
B.  Squint your eyes, focus on her and secretly hope that your much longed for laser eyes will    suddenly kick in and crisp her.
C.  Say, "I'm sorry I offended you, I didn't know what I did/said would upset you, I'll try not to do it again."
D.  Leave, hoping that when you've come back the alternate personality living in your friend's head will have gone by the time you come back.

The answer is C always C!! So what if you don't understand exactly what you did wrong?! You are apologizing for the perceived wrong! Most likely you will not be able to convince your friend that you honestly don't understand how what you've done is offensive. Apologize for (even unknowingly) causing the offended feeling. That way she won't be even more upset with you for being so rude as to not care weather or not she's upset.

I was feeling the domestic demi-goddess this weekend. I was sewing, I was knitting, I was cooking, I was thinking about cleaning. Actually I did my dishes as soon as I finished eating, which is mostly because I'm scared of the critters who might also like my cooking. But that's cleaning too right? I also swept the kitchen, but that too I must do everyday as a result of all the ex-critters who wandered into the boric acid whilst I was away.

I made these groovalicious wrap around pants. (Yes, PK, just like the shorts from the Philippines.) I was so proud of myself that I went out and bought a shirt just so I could wear them today. I started knitting a scarf as a gift-I'm using "eyelash" yarn, it looks like I'm knitting a something that is destined to become Elmo's new best friend on Sesame street.

I have been working a Mohawk labs for one year.  I get my one year pay raise next week.  No one has bothered to tell me how much or more likely how little that may be. I have my one year review next week.  My boss is afraid that she will make my cry during the review.   While I am a sensitive and emotional creature, I find that  scenario highly unlikely.  But why let her know that? 

I have moved.  I again am living alone (me and the left over roaches.)  My apartment is most likely slightly toxic at the point.  I have boric acid along all the walls, I have cans of Raid in the kitchen and the bathroom.  I have bug bombs, roach bate and of course the ever present "squishing shoe."  I have noticed a significant decrease in la cockaracha activities.
The previous renter was a smoker.  I know this not only from the strong smoke odor emanating from the very walls but from the tar deposits I've scraped off the windows.  I decided the best thing for me to do to mask this ever present odoriferous experience one senses upon entering my domicile was to plug in a scented oil warmer conveniently equipped with a tiny "super quiet" fan.  It emits the scent of a "Tropical Breeze." 
Now when one enters my apartment he has the sensation of a heavy smoker with a can of Raid and a death wish to any bug that crosses her path standing just up wind of a refreshing tropical breeze.  Pleasant, Yes?

That was a fine ice breaker-now, let us talk of me.  I am now officially a graduate student.  Not a seminary student, not a "special student"  not a "degreed undergraduate."  None of these,  I am now (although I STILL need to take the GRE) officially a graduate student.  Details pending.

I've been meaning to do this for a while.
I suppose deep down I was thinking that when one stays quiet long enough, people forget to check to see what's going on.  It's a slow, quiet fading process.
I've thought about writing quite a few things-things that go better unread by anyone who knows me, or knows that I'm talking about them when I start recounting the absurdity of my experiences, or more accurately the absurdity of my perspective on those experiences.  The actual experiences, I maintain, cannot possibly be any more absurd than the next person's experience. 
I could  change names but they would still know.
You know who  you are .  If there is anyone reading this, if you know me, you know I have a story about you, and I have some opinions of you good and bad.  Most likely I have not fully shared those opinions of you with you although you probably have a pretty good idea of what they are.  I'm not trying to hide those opinions, it's just that I've been told I at times come across as somewhat harsh-and I'm rarely overly mushy-so get off my back!