Notable individuals who made great contributions to our society or culture often receive the honor of lying in state for public viewing upon their death. Ronald Reagan and Rosa Parks are recent examples, and this week Gerald Ford received such an honor at the Capital Rotunda in Washington, DC. That’s pretty cool.
James Brown’s body will lie in state too. And his deal is awesome because his body will lie in state at the Apollo Theater. The Apollo Theater – with that weird Tree of Hope that performers rub for good luck and Showtime at the Apollo with the raucous crowds fervently booing amateurs off the stage – what is cooler and more American than rubbin’ stumps and harassin’ strangers? Rotunda Shmotunda, I say! Compared to James Brown, Gerald Ford got the rough end of the pineapple.
But all this talk of lying in state has made me think – where will my body lie in state upon my death?
Sure, I haven’t actually contributed anything to society. Sure, I enter through exit doors, laugh at nuns driving cars, and use my free address labels without ever donating to the cause. Sure, I use too many natural resources and made my own ozone-layer hole with AquaNet hairspray in middle school. And, ok, sure there is a slight chance I am to blame for the Exxon Valdez oil spill (sources say I brought the beer, but I say they have no proof). And, ok, that was me who stole The Scream (but they got it back!), started the rumor about Richard Gere and the gerbil, and was solely responsible for the launching of New Coke.
Hmm…now that I think about it, maybe I don’t deserve to lie in state. How could this be? My mother will be so disappointed. But maybe I can make some changes in coming years. Or maybe by the time I die everyone will lie in state, just like everyone wins a ribbon at field day or the dumbest student receives the “Most Spirited” award.
Is it possible there will be no formal viewing of my body at the Gap, in the truckbed of a coffee farmer exploited by Starbucks, or at the Nabisco factory on a sea of Triscuits? Well maybe I don’t want to lie in state anyway!
So there…
12/28/2006
12/18/2006
Top 10 Signs Your Jokes Aren't Funny
10. After yet another unsuccessful joke, nobody laughs. And worse, nobody moves.
9. Signs saying “I guess you had to be there” automatically form a backdrop each time you open your mouth.
8. You have a blog called Tales of My Ordinary Life.
7. This year’s Christmas gift from your friends: An Introduction to Miming.
6. Even shampoo ladies, bartenders and other professionals who work for tips can’t be bothered.
5. Your comedic heyday consists of script writing for The Connie Chung Show.
4. Even your best friends don’t think your “I don’t need any more toothbrush technology” bit is funny. Really. Not even at all.
3. Tickle Me Elmo just gave you the finger.
2. You’ve noticed a correlation between your usage of the classic-comedy statement “I’ll be here all week!” and last-minute vacations for friends, family and co-workers.
1. You wonder why everyone has matching fuzzy things in their …hey those are earplugs!
12/14/2006
The Chamber
The bathroom in my office fascinates me. After a year I finally realized that the frequent clicking sound was automated air freshener and not (a) some cuckoo opening a can of soda, or (b) some cuckoo taking pictures for the 2007 Women of Office Products calendar. (I wanted to be Miss July so I could wear my Lady Liberty suit and hold a dry erase marker above my head)
And today was a rather special day in the bathroom. By some strange force of nature, there was a small feather on the counter. Seriously, a feather? From what? What Yankee Doodle brings a feather into the bathroom? It’s not like we sell feather pens. Perhaps there are meetings for the National Audubon Society? A make-your-own-boa party? I don’t know - the feather is a bit of a mystery to me.
So it’s an unpredictable bathroom. Since it is shared among many women on my floor, I never know what lucky souls will share in the experience. And although supplies are generally well-stocked, there is certainly no guarantee that the toilet paper in the holder will actually roll off of the bottom roll with the 15 lb one on top squishing it down.
There are three sinks and one paper towel dispenser. The paper towel dispenser might accommodate your needs if you can figure out how to keep that one pesky section on the right from wrinkling and getting caught inside. I personally have not mastered this art and find the more I try, the more wrinkly paper towel gets stuck inside. So we have bionic arms, GPS navigation systems, Chia Pets, the International Space Station, and genetically-modified food. But reliable paper towel dispensers? Not so much.
As for the sinks, Sink 1 clogs very easily and is often decorated by long dark hairs and random toothpaste splatters. Sink 2 is used 89% of the time and, consequently, its soap pumper often suffers from fatigue or goes on strike. This leaves Sink 3, which sucks because it’s one of those push-down 3-second water dispensing deals, so an adequate hand-washing requires excessive effort. Pshhht. Off. Pshhht. Off. Pshht. Off … Who has that kind of time???
Apparently I do! So if anyone needs me, I’ll be in the chamber…with strangers, and feathers, and toilet paper strips, and malfunctioning dispensers, and – because I never stop dreaming – a dry erase marker.
And today was a rather special day in the bathroom. By some strange force of nature, there was a small feather on the counter. Seriously, a feather? From what? What Yankee Doodle brings a feather into the bathroom? It’s not like we sell feather pens. Perhaps there are meetings for the National Audubon Society? A make-your-own-boa party? I don’t know - the feather is a bit of a mystery to me.
So it’s an unpredictable bathroom. Since it is shared among many women on my floor, I never know what lucky souls will share in the experience. And although supplies are generally well-stocked, there is certainly no guarantee that the toilet paper in the holder will actually roll off of the bottom roll with the 15 lb one on top squishing it down.
There are three sinks and one paper towel dispenser. The paper towel dispenser might accommodate your needs if you can figure out how to keep that one pesky section on the right from wrinkling and getting caught inside. I personally have not mastered this art and find the more I try, the more wrinkly paper towel gets stuck inside. So we have bionic arms, GPS navigation systems, Chia Pets, the International Space Station, and genetically-modified food. But reliable paper towel dispensers? Not so much.
As for the sinks, Sink 1 clogs very easily and is often decorated by long dark hairs and random toothpaste splatters. Sink 2 is used 89% of the time and, consequently, its soap pumper often suffers from fatigue or goes on strike. This leaves Sink 3, which sucks because it’s one of those push-down 3-second water dispensing deals, so an adequate hand-washing requires excessive effort. Pshhht. Off. Pshhht. Off. Pshht. Off … Who has that kind of time???
Apparently I do! So if anyone needs me, I’ll be in the chamber…with strangers, and feathers, and toilet paper strips, and malfunctioning dispensers, and – because I never stop dreaming – a dry erase marker.
12/08/2006
My XXX
Alright. Well I’m officially 30. I don’t have anything insightful to post, and I don’t have a list of observations, lessons learned, funny jokes, resolutions, etc. In fact, all I have is two hands, a keyboard, and a very restless mind.
I’ve never been one to care much about age. Yet at the same time, I’ve always said I would peak in my late 20s. I think everyone who wasn’t cool in high school or never won 1st place in a spelling bee says that. So have I peaked? Was that the best me I could be? (For some reason I have the Army “Be. All that you can be.” jingle in my head. Do you think the US Army would be offended that their ____ was just called a jingle? I’m not sure what else to call it. Slogan? Inspirational folk song? I digress…now where was I? Oh yes. Peaking.)
Have I peaked? Am I on the downhill slope? I can’t even ski!
But what if I haven’t peaked and there are better things ahead? What would that look like? Allow me to take a shot:
- I’d be hot. And not just nice looking, like old ladies like me and say “Oh, she is a pretty girl.” I mean smokin’ hot baby! I’d be H.O.T!
- I’d definitely own plates. And I would find the stupid square red plates I’ve been searching for all year. My theme song would change from “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” by U2 to “The Search is Over” by whoever the hell sings that horrible song.
- All my pants would fit perfectly, my eyebrows would self-wax, and I would finally master the art of eating with chopsticks. (I hate you, stupid chopsticks!)
- I’d join MENSA just to have something to talk about during my Best Blog Award acceptance speech.
So yes, peaking. The apex of my life. I’ll be a better me!
If that happens, I’ll be saying goodbye to mopping my floor with shampoo, using rotten fruit and vegetables as a means to prevent identity theft (don’t ask, but think mail and trash), fashion faux pas that could have been prevented if I only owned a full-length mirror, a futile “Operation” I’ve had underway for far too long (no comments please!), and sleeping with a stuffed Snoopy.
Alright. Well I’m officially 30. The Triple X. Whoopiteedoo!
12/07/2006
Per Diem
At least once a day I…
- Trip over my own feet
- Screw up words that come in pairs, such as “yesterday” and “tomorrow”
- Forget what I am wearing and challenge myself to recall before looking
- Discover something obvious that I should have figured out years ago, such as why Mens Wearhouse is a clever company name
- Fear that I have passed my exit off the Pike after making fun of other drivers for being stupid
- Unscrew the cap to my water bottle too quickly, have it slip from my hands, fall onto my lap, drop to the floor, and roll far underneath my desk
- Go spelunking for said cap carefully amid fear that co-workers have seen my buttcrack a few too many times
- Consider washing the carpet lint off my bottle cap yet decide not to
- Wonder why I often cough up carpet lintballs
- Trip over my own feet
- Screw up words that come in pairs, such as “yesterday” and “tomorrow”
- Forget what I am wearing and challenge myself to recall before looking
- Discover something obvious that I should have figured out years ago, such as why Mens Wearhouse is a clever company name
- Fear that I have passed my exit off the Pike after making fun of other drivers for being stupid
- Unscrew the cap to my water bottle too quickly, have it slip from my hands, fall onto my lap, drop to the floor, and roll far underneath my desk
- Go spelunking for said cap carefully amid fear that co-workers have seen my buttcrack a few too many times
- Consider washing the carpet lint off my bottle cap yet decide not to
- Wonder why I often cough up carpet lintballs
12/03/2006
Hotels By The Number
I have visited 4 hotels on business since October. Here are their stats:
Number with a phone next to the toilet – 3
Number of phone calls so urgent they could only be made from the toilet phone – 0
Number of other times “toilet phone” has made a Tales of My Ordinary Life cameo – 1
Number of other Blogger blogs cool enough to mention the toilet phone – 0
Number with a swimming pool – 3
Number with a strange naked child in the shallow end – 1
Number of seemingly-normal, guitar playing, blog writing adults sharing pool with strange naked child – 1
Number of juniper shampoo bottles in current hotel – 2
Number of times I wondered if homemade gin could be made from juniper shampoo – 7
Number of juniper shampoo and tonics consumed – 0.02
Number of function halls and conference rooms searched in hopes of finding a piano to play – 11
Number of potential piano keys assuming 1 piano per room – 968
Number of potential piano keys I am embarrassed to admit I estimated using very poor mental math - 888
Number of pianos found – 0
Number of piano keys found – 0 (estimated correctly, thank you)
Number of security guards alerted to weird guest with suspicious lurking behavior – TBD
Number of miles traveled en route to hotel - 159
Number of times I avoided a certain-death accident with a STUPID red Ford Explorer through quick thinking – 1
Number of times I may have been served dirt as an unconventional seasoning for my steamed broccoli – 1
Number of hotties who will see me on this unbelievably fabulous hair day - 0
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