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The Thing With The Stuff

comments, complaints, quandries, curses

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You Can’t Always Get What You Want… like this song, out of your head.

Once I used to work with this amazing person named Becky. Well, twice I used to work with her. Once at one company, and then I went to work at this other company and she did too, and then she recruited me to work at her company some time later. It’s the construction industry – they’re like that.

Becky is beautiful and smart and HILARIOUS and has a strong sense of right and wrong and fair. She’s single, about my age, athletic, adventurous, and hella sassy. We’re both… on the wry side… and we had a blast working together for as long as it lasted (about 2.5 years, off and on).

When we worked for the second company together, we had adjacent desks and somehow – I don’t know what prompted it – came up with the Get A Song Stuck In Somebody’s Head game. It’s incredibly fun; you should play it. Here’s how:

  1. Sing or say a line from a real earworm of a song. (I like to start with “Hello? Is it me you’re looking for?”)
  2. Listen to your partner curse.
  3. Laugh. Hum your earworm for extra points and torture.
  4. Your partner will then retaliate with another earworm prompt. (Becky would typically go for a little Bobby McFerrin or an 80s hair band.)
  5. Curse when the new earworm evicts the old.
  6. Listen to your partner laugh.
  7. Start again at 1.

The winner is the one who comes up with the most powerful earworm of them all. Warning: this game is highly infectious and may spread through your office.

I miss Becky. Leaving Austin a couple years back was hardest because of the Grade A quality friends I had there. Below is not a classic earworm, but Becky and I have this thing about Bob Schneider, live. 🙂

A Very Big Sign: Keep Out

 

From The Big Tidy Up by Norah Smaridge
From The Big Tidy Up by Norah Smaridge

Who is the one person you hope isn’t reading your blog? Why?

This blog is largely about my kids, whose identifying info I don’t obfuscate as much as many other parent bloggers do. I see other writers referencing their kids with initials or cute nicknames like Hammerhead. They don’t show photos of their kids’ faces or mention the names of their schools. I feel like they are probably doing something smart that I should do, but instead I keep titling things Amelia With This and Baxter Does That, and I tweet about where we’re going and like their schools on Facebook. I persist in this even though it seems I should be worried, like other parents obviously are, about people cyberstalking and – what’s the terrifying conclusion of that threat? – kidnapping or somehow hurting my kid/s.

But really, I don’t want to live in a subjective universe where there are people scouring the internet for succulent children to abduct and bake in their gingerbread ovens. And I know from hideous experience that Stranger Danger is largely a myth. And then there’s the fact that this site is mostly for my own archiving purposes – so I can own the stuff I post to FB and Twitter – and isn’t a place where I plan to intentionally build readership and thus notoriety. Mix together all of these reasons and sprinkle with some Mother-of-Young-Children laziness, and you will have a beautiful fruit salad of No Change.

So the one person I hope isn’t reading this blog is the person I know exists, though not on every block: I hope there isn’t a rapacious, psychopathic kidnapper reading this blog, for obvious reasons. And I’m going to live – and keep posting – like there isn’t.

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