Sitting and waiting

I’m sitting and waiting.  Normally I don’t mind sitting, because I can read a book, but I can’t do that here.  I hate waiting.  I think most people hate waiting.  I don’t like getting bad news, I don’t think any of us do, but waiting for bad news is the worst.  Waiting for good news is only recognized after the fact.  Since I don’t know whether or not I will get good or bad news, I find myself sitting and waiting, sitting and waiting.  It’s eternity…  I also just realized that I’m out of beer.

WOTD: nerdjacking

Once again I have the Urban Dictionary to thank for today’s word. It never fails to disappoint.

Continuing with this weekend’s nerd theme, today’s word is a particular phenomenon, whereby one momentarily and unwittingly engages others in nerdy topics of conversation despite and often in complete obliviousness to a total lack of understanding or interest on the part of the listener.

Clyde held Stella’s attention briefly, until he began nerdjacking the conversation by talking about World of Warcraft for four uncomfortable minutes.

This is apparently one of the most common symptoms of Asperger Syndrome.

More on that later…

NERD

I have always been a total dork.

I am a NERD.
As a kid, I often heard that word,
And I recall how hearing it,
Would anger and upset me.
And how they used to look my way,
And immediately forget me.

They never really saw my face.
Huge glasses took up half the space.
And kids who’d been friends years before,
Suddenly weren’t friends anymore.
Too embarrassed to talk to me,
Or even to be seen with me.

Saying hi was all it took,
For them to give a dirty look.
Don’t talk to me. You are not cool.
You do not exist at this school.
You are nothing. You are a NERD.

There it is.
That word again.
That hated, hated word.

But the thing is…

I really am a NERD.
Of that there is no doubt.
No longer do I hate the word.
For being a NERD is what I’m All About.
I never will be cool. I am a NERD.
And I’m okay with it.

Truth be told, I am a NERD
And pretty damn proud of it.

Bargument

Ever had a bargument?
Sure you have, you know it!
A few drinks at the local pub
and your logic starts to show it
taking stands you never would
if you were clean and sober
but suddenly it’s clear to see
the chip there on your shoulder
you think you’ve a point to make
so you’re damned well gonna make it
then you see there’s a pint to take
though you really shouldn’t take it
you dig your heels in and
as the night goes on just more so
the silver lining being
you’ll not remember it tomorrow.

VANCOUVER!

Vancouver! Hang your head in shame!
I’m Canuckian but I know,
It’s just a bloody game!
There are many other things,
Worth protesting in the street,
But not because your home team,
Went down to defeat,
You win some and you lose some,
Advice ya’ll might want to save,
Now you’ve set Lord Stanley,
Spinning in his grave,
Your team lost in honour,
Despite the season’s works,
And you go and repay them by
Being pathetic jerks.

Those people…

Have you ever bought a newspaper and then forget to read it?  This happens to me all the time, especially with my favorite Sunday Editions of The New York Times.   At $6 dollars each, they are as expensive as a paperback novel, and probably contain as much writing.  I enjoy the Sunday New York Times, even though a lot of my peers give me grief for its liberal bias.  So what?  I watch Fox News too, and you can’t say that they don’t have a conservative bias.  You see, there’s two sides to every story, and I enjoy reading, listening, and watching both the liberals and the conservatives.  This entire country was founded on discourse, debate, and heaven forbid, compromise.

At any rate, last night I was cleaning up the man cave and I stumbled across the March 13, 2011 edition of The New York Times.  Good grief, that was a while ago.  The paper is already fading as some papers tend to do under the elements and time.  I’m now catching up on the past if you will.

Turning the pages I come to the Weddings/Celebrations pages in the Sunday Styles section.  I don’t know why, but I read the fabulous wedding announcements and I can’t help wonder, who the hell are those people, or is it, these people?  They look great, and reading their short bios I’m intrigued by how the majority of them come from wealthy families and places, have super awesome jobs, and are genuinely, not like us.  I’m lucky if I find a good deal at an outlet store, and these people are sporting the finest linens.

Not that I’m jealous, I’m just wondering what it would take for my sons to make it to the back pages of The New York Times Style section.  This fills me with a certain amount of dread that perhaps I’m not providing enough for my family in order to have this kind of lavish lifestyle.  I am partially comforted by the fact that I am able to provide for my family, we have clothes on our back, food on the table, a roof over our heads, health insurance, and books, oh yes, lots of books.  And yet I wonder about those people…

Alaska’s Finest

Ever since you went down south,
Not once have you ever shut your mouth.
You say so much and yet say nothing.
Meaningless words that just keep coming.

Which papers do you read daily?
How difficult can that question be?
Evade it. Avoid it. Talk around.
No direct answers to be found.

I really try but can’t figure out,
Just what on earth you’re talking about.
So please stop talking, take a breather.
Cause I don’t think that you know either.

You do not represent nor speak for me,
Former governor of Alaska, Sarah P.

A funny thing happened on the way to my apartment…

Now that was weird. Earlier today as I was walking home from the tram stop, I recognized the woman who was getting her hair done at the same time I was getting mine done on Saturday. I think she and the salon owner might be friends because they both come from Iran and were speaking Persian to one another while I was there. I was headed home and listening to Lullaby by The Cure when she looked straight at me, obviously recognizing me. I smiled and nodded back, but as I mentioned, I was listening to my music and not in the position, nor the mood, to have a conversation with anyone.

A minute or so passed and I felt a tap on the back of my shoulder. I turned around and looked. It was her. I took my earphones out, thinking that she probably just wanted to say hello. Instead she took a small handbag out of her shopping bag and then reached in the small bag and removed two lipsticks. She said that the handbag and the lipsticks were new, that she had just bought them for 200 SEK, but that now she was out of money until Monday. Would I please buy them for 100 SEK? I looked at the handbag and it didn’t look new to me. There were no tags on it and it looked faded and worn. And only one of the lipsticks was unopened. The shrink wrap on the other one was broken.

I usually pay for things with my bank card and very rarely carry much cash. The grand total of cash I had on me was one 20 kronor bill (approx. $3.15) and a few coins. This is hardly anything. I honestly and sincerely didn’t have the money to help her and I told her this. She then continued to beg me to buy the items. I said that I understood and wished I could help her but I just didn’t have enough money on me. She looked like she was going to cry at that point, but she finally understood, and I finally was able to continue walking home.

I’ve seen many beggars and I’ve occasionally given them money to them, but I’ve never experienced anything like someone trying to sell me used makeup and handbags before. If I had a significantly larger amount of cash then I might have helped her out, but I wouldn’t have taken her used stuff.

Weird. It was just weird.