• I absolutely should be doing a million other productive, work/school-related items, but Aimee's mini-skirt musing and Matt's link to Ariel Levy's article has me doing a lot of thinking about this topic. In Levy's article, any woman who makes critical or analytical inquiries into programs like The Man Show is accused of having no sense of humor. First of all, this is inaccurate, but I want to make an observation and ask a question. My observation is this-- that the intended effect of that accusation is to place women on the defensive and is a deliberate attempt to muddy the waters surrounding questions about shows like G-String Divas and The Man Show. Usually, the avoidance tactic seems to work. Women tend to cry, "I do too have a sense of humor! See? I'll like what you like to prove that I do!" Why is having a sense of humor about un-PC stuff privileged over having a curiosity about the phenomenon? And who gets to decide that? Hm.
  Now. Supposing that the statement is true-- that women who question the propriety of these shows truly do have no sense of humor? So what? Why should that affect getting an answer on the critical/analytical question? Argh. I am late for an appointment. More later.

• I think it's partly the idea of murdering children that bothers me so much about that O'Connor story.

• I would very much like to say something funny, but I've been reading Flannery O'Connor. Not that I really much liked the family in A Good Man is Hard to Find, but I didn't especially want them to be murdered, either. If I think about it, it fascinates me that an author can make me care about a character--a fiction--dying. I don't ponder the subject very often, though, because I feel inadquate and shallow because I can't come to any wise or momentous insights. When I feel this way, I start worrying about my hair, which has caused me a great deal of concern this week.

• I went to a walk-in place because I am mad at John, the guy that usually cuts my hair. He refused to help his sister-in-law, my friend, at a bad time in her life. You know: D-I-V-O-R-C-E. So, because he is a bad brother-in-law, I now have a bad haircut. It slopes from front to back, and the slopes on either side of my head do not match. I have been running around with a pair of scissors begging my graduate student friends to help me in my hour of dire need, but do they help me? Chaos Man said he would. Maybe. Where is a good barber when I needs one? Alas, oh woe is me. So, when I cannot solve the deeper mysteries of a great American woman author, I resort to hair anxiety. Not that I buy into any of this Beauty Myth crap.

I am missing my second day of working in the computer lab because I have to see my dentist to make sure my tooth whitening process is going okay. Not that I buy into any of this Beauty Myth crap. I know that I don't buy into the B.M. because I still haven't shaved my legs. Neither has my daughter. She hasn't shaved my legs, either. Or hers for that matter.

• Aimee ran three miles yesterday at the gym. I've been working out for months and can't galumph three miles yet. It is a good thing that I don't buy into that competitive Beauty Myth baloney.

• Excerpted from a first year composition student paper: "I failed every 'diagramming sentences' worksheet back in second and third grade and outside of nouns, verbs, pronouns, and proverbs, I don't know what the other parts of speech are."

• Well, it took me a long time, but I was able to understand Matt's Geek Code. Loosely translated, it says: "I am an alien. I like long walks on the beach and enjoying pork rinds with a glass of crisp, chilled Chardonnay. But enough of this idle chit-chat. I must suck your brains out through your nose now."

• As if we needed further proof that the gods are capricious and malicious: One of the students that failed my course last semester has registered for my course this semester. The poor guy doesn't know that I'm his instructor. The catalog just lists us all as "staff." I'd better find him a section open at that hour. Poor thing. Oh, and my roster went from 13 to 21 over the weekend. Yes, it was too much to be hoped for. Yet, if I can make my syllabus and introductory lecture wicked enough...yes...yes...this approach could work. Mwahahahaha!

• Diagnosis: Two ear infections and a sinus infection. Prognosis: I'll live, much to my dismay. Medication: Nasarel, Ceclor, fluids and bedrest. That doc. Such a kidder. The semester starts tomorrow. No bedrest for the weary and sick at heart/ear/head/[place afflicted body part here].

• Excerpted from my interview with the nurse at the blood bank last week:
  

  Nurse: At any time, have you taken money or drugs for sex?
  Me: That's my definition of marriage! [uproarious laughter] Nurse: So is that a "no" or a "yes?"
  Blood bank nurses have no sense of humor.
  
  Question two:
  Nurse: At any time since 1977, have you taken money or drugs for sex or had sex with anyone who has taken money or drugs for sex?
  Me: Since 1977? Never since 1977. [Blatant rip-off of a joke from an 80's movie. Know which one?]
  Actually, Nurse, I'm secondarily celibate. I am the perfect donor. I do no fun drugs and never have sex! I am every blood bank's ideal contributor. I think I also fit the profile for a post office attacker, but you don't need to worry about that. I'm not currently armed. There's another advantage to this celibacy gig-- no leg or armpit shaving in winter! It's wonderful. Try it. The freedom. The time and expense saved in showering and lotions. Fantastic. Nurse? Nurse?
  They deferred me, those Nazis.

• I don't get it. The women beat her up? Jealousy? Male fantasy movies move to the Internet. Hm. Personally, I like my movie better! mwahahahahaha! Indeed! <--pathetic reference to my currently two favorite WWF wrestlers, Kai and Tai. Hey! They don't have a page for Kai and Tai. This is terrible. It's silencing. Discrimination. Stereotyping. Who on earth could have expected such a thing from something as open-minded and democratic as the WWF? I'm so disappointed.

I love when I get creative urges. Aimee, I know, will be jealous when she sees this.

• Let it be known that I loathe/abhor/detest running. I use that term loosely, running. In my case, it is probably more accurate to say lumbering or galumphing. So anyway, I hate galumphing. It makes me tired and sweaty. Why do I do this? I hate buying larger size clothes even more than I hate galumphing. I feel the urge to say something philosophical about the whole upside/downside aspect of living, but since nothing comes immediately to mind, I'll keep whining.


• Cartoons are a good way to pass time while galumphing on the treadmill. [My 2 mile time today was 27:45. The first mile was faster than the second. Still pathetic.] I watched something called A Pup Named Scooby Doo. I don't know if I can cover all the reincarnations of Scooby Doo, but I know there was a Scooby Doo, Where Are You? and then some movies, and then there was Scooby Doo and Scrappy Doo, Too or something like that. So what is the fascination with Scooby Doo? Whatever happened to the good cartoons like The Pink Panther? I liked him.
  
  So is the brainy chick's name Thelma or Velma? In today's episode, there must have been some sort of dance/music sequence [I wasn't following the dialog, I was trying to keep a steady galumphing pace by listening to AC/DC. Highway to Hell, indeed.] because they showed Thelma/Velma dancing and she was doing the PigPen dance from the Peanuts cartoon specials. How do I describe it? They stand on their toes and move their heels back and forth while their arms hang limply at their sides. The foot motion reminds me of Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz when she says, "There's no place like home. There's no place like home."


• So I finish galumphing and switch on the T.V. while I'm showering. American Movie Channel is showing this movie about Helen of Troy. I think that's the Iliad. Really hokey dialog. Evidently, Helen was homesick, because she told her mother-outlaw that she wanted to go back to Menaleus. She was muttering something like, "There's no place like Rome. There's no place like Rome." Ouch.


• I have to go give blood in about five minutes. They always try to give me a sticker that says, "I do it for the cookies." I suppose I would do just about anything for an Oreo.


• The modern day equivalent of Sisyphus: a mother of four trying to keep up with the laundry.

• I've been very blah about blogging. I have only this week to be lazy then I have to go back to work/school. I don't want to. I'm burned out. Worn out. Used up. Spent. Unable to continue. Redundant. Worked on my course syllabus today. My third major makeover in as many semesters. Why do I feel this compulsive need to tweak? Tweaking is bad. Racking my brains for a link to put in here. I'll link this to the current incarnation of the school web site project I'm working on. I meet with the committee tonight to see how or if they like it. I'm never satisfied, and it sure doesn't seem very artistic to me. It is sort of blah. Like how I'm feeling...
• Just read Aimee's blog [see link at left] and thought I'd escaped being part of the "you people need to write more stuff to keep me entertained" group, but then MATT has to go and drop my name. Tanks fer nuttin', dear boy. ;) Oh, and I did make cookies, but not specifically for Aimee.

• Today's schedule: 1. Drop kids at school. Yay. 2. Go to dentist. Ouch. 3. Go to electrolysis [def: voluntary shock treatments designed to make you think you're getting rid of that unsightly mustache when you're really just helping some sadistic woman get her jollies by hurting you]. Ouch again. 4. Go to therapist. I see that today is going to go from worse to worser. I'll get it all out of the way in one afternoon, and then I can have a cocktail tonight. Aimee coming for a visit tomorrow. That will cheer me up.


• Finished The Hobbitt last night. I want to start on Graham Swift's Ever After but have a ton o' computer mags to get through. I'll take today and do that. More pain. Sigh.

• Didn't even start on the school web project. Instead, formatted a page so I can put a creative nonfiction essay online. I was obsessed, and it wouldn't work the way I wanted it to. I don't think I'm meant to do web stuff, but I love it. I truly do.


• Taylor may get her braces off this summer. She's only had them for 8 years. That's basically half her life. Wow.


• Evan likes James Bond movies. I knew there was something I liked about that kid.

• The kids' first day back at school. Is it really 7:00 A.M. already? I need to go yell at them [again] so they'll get out of bed. Evan is the worst. They bickered most of the day yesterday. Time for them all to head back to a routine and schedule, I think. This was a foretaste of summer. Better plan on keeping them busy somehow. Why is it that when they're busy, I'm busy, too? Note to self: Never blog before coffee. You sound whiney.

• Web sites that I visit daily: 1. Hotmail 2. Yahoo Games [for my dose of crosswords]3. my blog, Aimee's blog.

• Today I start on more content for the Immanuel web site. The athletics policy manual. A little daunting, but good experience. If I say that enough, I may believe it.

• Had an informative and encouraging e-mail from Aphie. Thank you! Someone hears me! She wonders why I'm called Bookhag. I love books, and I'm completely intrigued with the idea of witches, crones, and hags. In folklore, the Crone archetype holds the wisdom of the culture and is useful to her society--things I aspire to be and do. So, that's it, really, but this description could relate back to the Liz thing. See the archive for more info on that rambling!
  
  
• Getting fun mail from Aimee, too. She writes great, funny letters. I told her Thursday was okay to come over, because I had appointments on Wednesday, but now I think I reversed the days and Wednesday would be better. Damn. Need to get my shit straight [more work on my swearing resolution].