Tag Archives: terrible lessons

Happy Anniversary!

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To me. Not you. WordPress helpfully reminded me I’ve had this blog for 2 years. Which helpfully reminded me I haven’t posted in more than 2 weeks. Which then gave me guilt, which is now making me feel sad.

Theoretically, I really am going to post more things. I mean, I’ve been drawing. But I took a few days off for my birthday, but then it turns out that the universe hates it when you act 7 instead of 34 and so it punishes you with Honk Donkey Flumoniantery Ebola Pox. And then, once you’re finally over that, you’ll have a fantastic migraine because screw you for not being an adult for 3 days, apparently.

Then WP will tell you you’ve been blogging here for 2 years and you’ll wind up with the aforementioned guilt and depression and find yourself typing up an entry so that the universe doesn’t decide to dump another plague on your head.

Can I quit now? I wrote, um, several words. That’s totally enough, right? Several?

I have no idea how many I’ve written because while you’re not seeing this till mid-day, I actually wrote it at butt:30 because that’s just how I roll.  Actually, in the interest of full disclosure, it’s butt:35 now and might be a different time by the point I actually click all of the settings. So I’m writing all of this in the far distant past.

Turns out time travel isn’t nearly as cool as we hoped.  :/

P. S. After looking at past tags I’ve used, I now want ice cream. I blame all of you.

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Yes, But That’s Stupid

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That’s what I WANTED to say on a FB post earlier, one that reminded me why I normally like to pretend that FB doesn’t exist. This one was about something forgettable, but I realized I want to say it a LOT when I’m on Facebook.  Twitter, on the other hand, is full of brilliant and witty people with whom I actually engage in useful discussions.  Social media is awesome, except when it sucks.

Moving on, though, to the real crux of this post.  It’s about Google.

Listen, Google. You do great work. You’re really good at what you’re good at.  Hell, I’m even using Chrome right now on my Mac because you nailed the browser thing. Nailed it. I was a beta tester for gmail. Remember those days?  Back when people had to use hotmail or Yahoo! just to talk to each other? Dark days, my friend. But then there was Gmail. There was light. And 1GB of space. I know that sounds silly now that you’ve given us, what, 15GB? And Google Drive? I even briefly considered acquiring a Chromebook at some point in the future before my iThings ganged up on me and threatened my survival. Anyway, I’m just saying that there are things you are really good at and you should stick to those things.

This is the awkward part, though.

You’re known for creative thinking. Innovation. Doing stuff in a different way.  That’s why I was really sad to see the Google Doodle on Monday.  I mean, I almost didn’t even mention it because, let’s face it, I’m afraid you’ll take away my data or something. You hold the power in this relationship.  But remember last week when I invented the Quantum Reactive Schröedinger’s  Pie cult? Last week. Like, before Monday.

Okay, I know I didn’t invent Schröedinger or the idea of quanta reacting differently on observation, but I did draw pictures about it. Like… three of them. Maybe it was two. I don’t know, Google; I’ve had a couple Klonopin smoothies since then and it’s a bit of a blur.  But the thing is Monday, I saw this:

You and I both know what you did. Is this a cry for help?

You and I both know what you did. Is this a cry for help?

Really, Google, you could at least have been subtle about it.  This is just blatant. I really feel like maybe you need to talk to someone. Have you called your mother? Google, we can get through this, but you have to stop cribbing off my blog. Just admit you have a problem and, I don’t know, Google something. See? That’s another thing you’re good at.  You don’t have to keep following me online.  It’s a little creepy, sometimes, really.  I’m sorry. It just had to be said.  I think we might need some time apart — except for email and searching and browsing and storing things online, I mean. But all that other time?  Yeah.  I need space.

It’ll be okay, Google.  But I’m not letting you borrow my iPad again.

 

I’m usually smarter

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A couple of weeks ago, I entered an argument with a wall about who had the right of way.  Physics decided to back up the wall because physics is a jerk. The results of this miscarriage of science were several very mean thoughts, a ridiculous headache and a pair of broken specs that I could not locate.

See, I’m extremely nearsighted. Legally blind, in fact.  If you take away my glasses, the world disappears.  This doesn’t make you David Copperfield, though; it just makes my eyes pretty useless without adequate backup.  Did I mention this whole thing happened during an attempted potty break at 3 a.m.?  That might be TMI but it also kind of explains that it was dark and I didn’t shout words of anger at Newton just because it would have woken people up.  Because I’m considerate. Unlike science.  (The Jerk.)

I keep an emergency pair of older Rx glasses in a place I can reach even blindly because there are times I didn’t put my actual glasses where I thought I did when I fell asleep and therefore cannot function until they’re found.  But this happened on the other end of the house.  I had to navigate the entire obstacle course between my broken and unlocateable glasses and my not-broken, but not-particularly-useful glasses without any optical enhancement. In the dark.  I broke a toe.

I eventually located my old glasses, put them on my face and cursed because everything was only somewhat less blurry.  So this time, I hobbled half-blind, injured and cranky back across the dark house to locate broken glasses, assess the damage and attempt to fix them.  (I just really want to point out the jerkishness of science since I feel it played a vital role in making the night so miserable. Sorry all you science-lovers, but really, science is a jerk.)

If you cannot see, you should not attempt to glue things with any sort of permanent fixative.  Because due to the continued mean-spiritedness of science, they not only attach acetate earpieces to the rest of the frame, but they also attach your hand to the frame.  Possibly twice.  (Shut up.)

When your newly detached-from-your-hand glasses finish drying, you will put them on and realize that you have obviously done a very bad job.

Then you get to wait for almost 2 weeks for new glasses because science is a jerk and hasn’t invented teleportation yet.

So remember:  I’m not clumsy. Science is just a jerk.

It made more sense in my head….

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So there’s not really a post today, as you can tell because it’s all dark outside and I usually have a post up around lunchtime. But sometimes life demands that you take a day off.  Or possibly three.  And then life will troll you and you will accidentally have an allergic reaction, take a grown-up dose of benedryl by taking several pediatric melty tabs of benedryl and when your BFF wonders why you’re so out of it, you’ll tell her with a meaningful look, “ALL MY SKIN IS BEES” before falling dead asleep again.

Probably you didn’t have a stroke.  At least if you’re me.

And that’s a good thing. Which is really the lesson to take from this.  Not how to OD on baby benedryl. Because that is almost never a good idea.

Terrible Lessons I Learned From Children’s Lit (part 1)

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Sorry for the rerun, but I want to pick this theme up again and figured a refresher was in order.  Also, I had to write another thing for a thing, so here’s an older thing that’s hilarious (promise!). Forgive me? Also, Mara Wilson (Matilda) is on Twitter and you should probably follow her because she’s hilarious and awesome.  @marawritesstuff.  Go. Follow. Yay.

So in re-reading and re-watching some of my favourite children’s/YA books/movies, I’ve realized some really disturbing things.  In fact, I figured I’d share them here so you can all see exactly how my demented mind works.

Let’s start with Mathilda, shall we?  I’m gonna talk about the movie ’cause it’s what I had handy and when you’re dealing with Roald Dahl, the book and the movie are very different things. (Hint: the books are even more terrifying.)  But don’t worry; he’ll turn up  again.  I learn lots of terrible lessons from the film adaptations of his books particularly.  This is what I learned from Matilda:

•If you want a child to grow up intelligent and independent, you should absolutely neglect them, thoroughly. It will make them smart and strong.

•If you are that child, your life has been crappy enough that while you’re generally a good person, you have a free pass to act like a sociopath at least once.

•Acting like a sociopath will get you the life you always wanted.

Some of you are probably wondering if we watched the same movie.  We did.  I’m just more warped than you are.  Still, it’s all there.  Matilda’s parents neglect her from the day she’s born, bringing her home from the hospital in the back of a station wagon and then forgetting her there until, presumably (we’re never told in the movie) she can walk herself in.  Because of this neglect, she learns to take care of herself, cook for herself, navigate a metropolis and manipulate the adults around her.  Oh, wait. We’re not to the sociopathy yet. Forget that bit.

Actually, let’s go ahead with the sociopathy:  If you’re Matilda and you’ve grown up in that atmosphere of neglect and indifference your entire life, you learn to play by a different set of rules and that’s okay in fiction but doesn’t play out well in the real world.  But in fiction, if your parents are “bad,” you can punish them.  In the movie, this takes the form of pranks, mostly, from replacing dad’s hair tonic with mom’s peroxide to gluing his hat on his head.  (Interesting, mom is never punished for her indifference and shallowness. But that’d be another bullet point and in preaching class, I learned 3 points are plenty, thanks.)

Anyway, apart from punishing her dad in order to get her way (which was to make him allow her to go to school), she finds that the principal at her new school is also bad and therefore can and should be punished.   I should probably point out that this is about the time that Matilda learns she has superpowers.  These are important because that’s what she uses to punish the bad adults at that point, through trespassing, theft and vandalism on the principal’s private property on the hunch that it was wrongly obtained (because 7 year olds are notorious for knowing the complexities of any given situation).  Later, she uses those same powers to physically assault the principal.  Trunchbowl is no peach and she definitely is a bully, but thanks to this movie, I learned that bullies just need someone to bully them back with supernatural powers.

In the end, this scares the bad principal while her parents get some federal justice aimed at them. Her parents flee the country, however, but Matilda, who apparently thought about this well ahead of time, had adoption papers prepped so that she could ditch her bad family, have her favourite teacher adopt her and they lived happily ever after in the house that had belonged to evil Ms. Trunchbowl.

So in the end, kids, remember that if you are smarter or more talented than someone else, it’s totally okay to use that to your advantage to manipulate the people around you into doing your will — as long as you have an adorable lisp and an exit strategy.

Join us next time on Auntie Hazard’s Story Time  to find out why it’s okay to take candy from strangers in pimp suits!

Terrible Lessons I Learned From Children’s Lit (part 1)

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So in re-reading and re-watching some of my favourite children’s/YA books/movies, I’ve realized some really disturbing things.  In fact, I figured I’d share them here so you can all see exactly how my demented mind works.

Let’s start with Mathilda, shall we?  I’m gonna talk about the movie ’cause it’s what I had handy and when you’re dealing with Roald Dahl, the book and the movie are very different things. (Hint: the books are even more terrifying.)  But don’t worry; he’ll turn up  again.  I learn lots of terrible lessons from the film adaptations of his books particularly.  This is what I learned from Matilda:

•If you want a child to grow up intelligent and independent, you should absolutely neglect them, thoroughly. It will make them smart and strong.

•If you are that child, your life has been crappy enough that while you’re generally a good person, you have a free pass to act like a sociopath at least once.

•Acting like a sociopath will get you the life you always wanted.

Some of you are probably wondering if we watched the same movie.  We did.  I’m just more warped than you are.  Still, it’s all there.  Matilda’s parents neglect her from the day she’s born, bringing her home from the hospital in the back of a station wagon and then forgetting her there until, presumably (we’re never told in the movie) she can walk herself in.  Because of this neglect, she learns to take care of herself, cook for herself, navigate a metropolis and manipulate the adults around her.  Oh, wait. We’re not to the sociopathy yet. Forget that bit.

Actually, let’s go ahead with the sociopathy:  If you’re Matilda and you’ve grown up in that atmosphere of neglect and indifference your entire life, you learn to play by a different set of rules and that’s okay in fiction but doesn’t play out well in the real world.  But in fiction, if your parents are “bad,” you can punish them.  In the movie, this takes the form of pranks, mostly, from replacing dad’s hair tonic with mom’s peroxide to gluing his hat on his head.  (Interesting, mom is never punished for her indifference and shallowness. But that’d be another bullet point and in preaching class, I learned 3 points are plenty, thanks.)

Anyway, apart from punishing her dad in order to get her way (which was to make him allow her to go to school), she finds that the principal at her new school is also bad and therefore can and should be punished.   I should probably point out that this is about the time that Matilda learns she has superpowers.  These are important because that’s what she uses to punish the bad adults at that point, through trespassing, theft and vandalism on the principal’s private property on the hunch that it was wrongly obtained (because 7 year olds are notorious for knowing the complexities of any given situation).  Later, she uses those same powers to physically assault the principal.  Trunchbowl is no peach and she definitely is a bully, but thanks to this movie, I learned that bullies just need someone to bully them back with supernatural powers.

In the end, this scares the bad principal while her parents get some federal justice aimed at them. Her parents flee the country, however, but Matilda, who apparently thought about this well ahead of time, had adoption papers prepped so that she could ditch her bad family, have her favourite teacher adopt her and they lived happily ever after in the house that had belonged to evil Ms. Trunchbowl.

So in the end, kids, remember that if you are smarter or more talented than someone else, it’s totally okay to use that to your advantage to manipulate the people around you into doing your will — as long as you have an adorable lisp and an exit strategy.

Join us next time on Auntie Hazard’s Story Time  to find out why it’s okay to take candy from strangers in pimp suits!