I don’t know about the rest of you, but I live my life in a state of perpetual tardiness. I’m always late for something. Meetings, work, parties, bedtime — you name it. If it’s an event, and has a scheduled start time, you can pretty much guarantee that I won’t manage to show up until ten minutes to a couple of hours after the thing gets under way.
And frankly, I’m not sure that’s ever going to change. My chronic lateness seems to be hard-wired into my brain. I was born late — just ask my mother, after thirty-odd hours of labor; she’ll tell you. I’ve been late to classes, late to final exams, even late to job interviews. At this rate, I’ll likely die late, too. I’ll hang on to a ripe, three-digit age, outlasting everyone I care about and tended to by bitter old hags thinking, ‘Christ, old man, just die already, so we can spend the twelve fricking dollars you have left!‘ Hell, they might even say it out loud, or send it to me every so often in a Hallmark card. Lousy bitches.
Moving back to the present day, suffice to say that I simply cannot seem to find a way to be on time. It’s a curse, or a character flaw, or a recurring brain fart. Call it what you will; the important thing to know is that if you want me somewhere at seven, then you’d damned well better tell me to be there at six-thirty, or earlier.
(And if it’s seven in the morning you’re talking about, then just give the hell up. I’m not coming at all. And believe me, I’ve been making creative excuses for enough years now to get out of whatever damned fool thing you’re foolish enough to schedule for the ass-crack of dawn. I don’t even start breathing for the day until eight. Not interested.)
Anyway, given my propensity for piss-poor punctuality — okay, I’m kind of proud of that one, folks; alliteration is our friend! — I’m always on the lookout for ways to get from point A to point B just a little bit faster. Especially when ‘point A’ is the bed, and the method for hurrying my ass up doesn’t involve losing any beauty sleep.
(Or ‘handsome sleep’, I suppose, but that just doesn’t sound right. ‘Studly snoozing’? Mmmmmm… no. ‘Dashing, debonair dozing’? Ugh.
Bah. Screw it. I’ll just call it ‘forty winks for lazy dinks’, and stick with that. It’s not how good you look, people; it’s how many hours in a row you can remain unconscious and completely unproductive. And drooling, preferably. There’s nothing ‘pretty’ about sleeping, dammit.)
So, over my many years and thousands of hours of research, I’ve come up with a few time-saving devices for getting up and out the door in the morning. And, since you might find yourself in the same sorts of dilemmas, I thought I’d pass some of my vast store of wisdom on to you. Maybe it’ll save you a tardy slip some day. Ready? Here we go.
The real secret to reducing your ‘prep time’ in the morning is to multitask. You simply need to find combinations of things that you can perform simultaneously. Two five-minute preparations become one five-minute (or possibly six or seven, if you’re not used to such trickery) combination. And voila! Instead of ten minutes late, you’re only down five! (Or, in my case, only down twenty instead of twenty-five. Still, every little bit helps.)
And you non-tardy tadpoles (you know who you are) can benefit, too. Now you can set the alarm forward another five minutes or so, and still be on time. Extra sleep means… um, well, actually, I’m not sure. I’ve never gotten any, myself, frankly. But I’m sure it improves memory, or promotes a sunny outlook, or makes your breasts grow bigger. Something good like that, probably.
Anyway, let me give you a few examples from my personal experience. In my insatiable quest for insight into the world of sleeping more and being late less, I’ve tried just about every imaginable time-saving combination. Some of them work quite well. Others… well, maybe I’d just better get to the examples. You can see for yourself.
So, here’s a list of the things that I need to accomplish every morning before hitting the door. Take a moment to familiarize yourself with this list — maybe make one of your own, so you can play along, too. It’ll be fun.
Wow, that’s a lot of crap to get done every morning. I need a nap, just thinking about all of that. But let’s look at a few of the combinations — viable and otherwise — that I’ve discovered when trying to manage all of these tasks:
#1: A Sprinkle Under the Sprinkler — Certainly, we all know what a timesaver taking a ‘number one’ in the shower can be. Not… not that any of us would actually do such a thing, of course! Even in an emergency, right? Still… theoretically, one could pee in the shower while washing one’s hair, if one were so inclined. I mean, it’s physically possible, is all I’m saying. One would just have to be careful where one’s pee-er was pointed, so as to not have to ‘tiptoe through the tinkle’ for the rest of bathtime.
Time Savings: Approximately one minute, perhaps two after a night of hard drinking (purely hypothetically, of course)
Recommendation: Hey, it’s your shower stall; I can’t tell you what to do. But a word to the wise — if you’ve been eating asparagus recently, you might want to find another way to save time. Again, purely hypothetically.
#2: A ‘Dry Shave’ Is Never Good — There was a time when, in my eagerness to get out the door, I would attempt to shave myself with my right hand while still drying off from my shower with my left. This time — as well as various patches of body hair — is no more. You see, it’s far too easy — for me, at least, early in the morning — for the two hands to get confused about which is doing what, and which one has the soft fluffy thing, and which one has the sharp dangerous slicy thing. I luckily never bled myself anywhere sensitive, but I did have some rather, er, ‘close shaves‘. So to speak. Ahem.
Time Savings: Five to ten minutes, if you can keep each hand working full-time on its task without getting confused.
Recommendation: Don’t try it, unless you’re far less distractable than I. Or unless you don’t mind accidentally giving your genitals a reverse mohawk. Hey, I hear it looks good on some people.
#3: I’m Really Not Sure That’s How Vitamin C Is Meant to Be Taken — I’ve also gotten a bit ahead of myself in gulping down a vitamin, sometimes grabbing the bottle while I’m still putting in my contacts. With a clear head and a little bit of dexterity, this is no problem. Of course, with my brain, and my fumble-fingered mitts, it often means a little piece of plastic in my mouth and a One-a-Day in my eye. And while I can easily fish the contact off my tongue, getting the vitamin out is usually far more painful. Not cool.
Time Savings: Thirty seconds, tops.
Recommendation: I wouldn’t do it, frankly. The risk-to-reward ratio is way too high, and those pills fricking hurt if they get stuck under your eyelid. On the good side, though, the lenses taste like chicken. So there is an upside, I guess.
#4: I’ll Never Hear Again, But My Cowlick Is Gone! — I once tried to Q-Tip my ears while brushing my hair. You know that little game where you try to pat your head and rub your stomach at the same time? Yeah, I could never fricking do that, either, so you can imagine how this went. The brushing part was fine, but I think I rammed the Q-Tip through my eardrum and all the way into my brain. Somewhere along the way, it broke in half, and I haven’t been able to taste salt or multiply fractions ever since. Freaky.
Time Savings: A couple of minutes, if you’re truly ambidextrous.
Recommendation: ‘Huh? Reco-what, now? Whad’ya say? Speak up? Huh?!‘
#5: The ‘Number Two’ Two-Step — There are actually a lot of things that you can get accomplished, should you feel the need to ‘take a seat’ during your morning routine. It’s perfectly reasonable to brush your hair, put on deodorant, and possibly even finish drying off while pot-sitting. Personally, I’d avoid putting a toothbrush or a vitamin — or anything else, frankly — in my mouth while so occupied, but still, a poo-poo pit stop doesn’t have to slow you down, if you don’t mind holding your nose and being creative.
Time Savings: Five minutes or more, depending on how long you take (and how far you can reach from your seated position to grab a Q-tip, brush, towel, etc.).
Recommendation: Sure, why the hell not? What else are you gonna do on the toilet? Read?
#6: Mmmmm… Just Like an Irish Spring! — I know people who brush their teeth in the shower. These are innovative, ambitious people for having thought of such a time-saver… but more than that, they’re completely fricking crazy. I tried it once, hopping into the tub with half my wits, still-sleepy eyes, and a brushful of Crest. It was a complete nightmare — I scrubbed my teeth with a bar of Dial, rubbed the brush under my armpits, and I think I still have toothpaste in my hair. And I’m not talking about the hair up there, either, people. Remind me never to do anything that requires conscious thought ever again, okay?
Time Savings: I don’t have any fricking idea. And everything I eat still tastes like Dial.
Recommendation: Don’t. Just don’t.
So, there you go. Some real time savers, and a few cautionary tales. I hope you’ve enjoyed this little public service message, and that it helps you get to whereever you’re going just a little bit faster. As for me, I think I’m just going to resign myself to being late for the rest of my life. It’s just safer that way, and I can keep the early-morning thinking to a bare minumum. Otherwise, I’m gonna find myself shaving my eyeballs, or pooping in the damned shower. And those are not combinations I wanna think about, no matter how late I’m running.
Permalink | 6 CommentsI kow, folks, I know. I really didn’t give you much to work with yesterday, did I?
Well, I’m here to make it up to you. I’ve got a topic or two queued up already, plus a bit of news to talk about. I even might — in a horrible fit of guilt for neglecting you yesterday, of course — let you in on a couple of things I’ve been thinking of tackling around here.
(Which would mean that I’d actually have to tackle the damned things, since you’d know about them, rather than sitting on my hands, singing ‘doo-de-doo‘ and only pretending that I’m going to actually do them.
And yeah, when I put it that way… maybe I won’t tell you about them, after all. I’m not that guilty, and now it just sounds really hard. But we’ll see, my pets — we’ll see.)
Anyway, before we do any of that, I need to get a couple of ‘operational’ things out of the way. Ride along with me, won’t you? You just might enjoy this.
First, I’m a day late in posting my Blogger Idol favorites for the week. (See? I wasn’t just neglecting you; I didn’t get to anyone yesterday. Damned day job getting in the way…)
Anyway, better late than never, here are give entries that enhumorated my humerus:
As you’ve come to expect from this fine and always consistent blog (*snort*), you can click on the icon above to get all the Week Four posts. And, if you missed it, you can check out my humble entry, as well.
(Yes, it’s also in the ‘all posts’ section — still, I thought you might like a shortcut. I’m cool like that.)
In other news, judging for the second week of this round’s King of the Blogs is officially under way. All of the ‘Challenge Response’ posts are now available. Go check ’em out, and… well, and just appreciat4e them, basically. You don’t get to vote or anything, so really, once you read them all, you’re pretty much done until the rulings from the judges come back.
Of course, if that frustrates you — if you’re the type who likes to be more involved in the process — then you can always hop on over to the Blog Madness 2003 tourney, where I’m currently trailing in the Bills Region Elimination Round. My adversary, Bear Left on Unnamed Road, is coming strong with his piece, Looking at and Longing for Mars, which is currently astro-kicking the ass off my Can I Buy a Damned Clue, Please?. So, if you’re interested in such things, head on over, read ’em both, and vote for your favorite. Seriously. Vote for his piece, if it strikes your fancy, but get your clicky-fingers over there and do it.
(Yeah, I see you there, not voting because you think once I’m out of this little contest, I won’t post about such nonsense any more.
Silly rabbit. All I post about is nonsense — and are you sure you want to take the risk that this type of thing won’t be replaced by something worse? Think hard about that one, my friend.)
Okay, that’s about it. Back to the funnies soon.
Oh, one last thing before I go, just as an aside — I’m currently six visitors shy of twenty thousand. (Sure, that includes a couple of ‘mes’, before I managed to filter my own hits, but let’s not quibble here, people.)
In general, as this milestone approacheth, I’d like to thank all of you for stopping by, reading comments, or just looking for porn.
Well, okay, not so much the porn-monkeys. They tend not to stay and read, and they’re frankly bringing down my property value. Plus they get the keyboard all sticky sometimes. So, yeah, no thanks to the (nineteen thousand plus, probably) hits that have come from those wankers.
But to the rest of you, my sincerest thanks. I’m glad you’re here, and I hope you’re having a good time. (And if not, try a margarita or six. That always puts me in a beter mod.)
And while I can’t properly show my appreciation to all of you, I would like to commemorate the occasion by buying just a little gifticle for whoever is big number two oh. (oh oh oh, to be precise… but I thought I told you not to quibble, dammit!)
So, if you’re the lucky twenty thousandth customer, and you’ve got a wishlist (and you’re not one of those people looking for Janet Jackson’s boob, or naked Stripperella pics, you sweaty little bastards), then you’ll be getting a little surprise in the mail. You know, assuming I can figure out who the hell you are, and where your wishlist might be. But it all worked out at ten thousand, so here’s hoping.
I’ll let you know what’s going on there as soon as I know. In the meantime, thanks again, and check back later for more nonsense. It’s all blather, all the time, baby!
Permalink | 4 CommentsSo, am I the only one who’s losing sleep over this:
There’s such a thing as a ‘spitfire‘. And there’s such a thing as a ‘hellcat‘.
(And both of these are very good things, often used to describe… um, well, gymnasts, I guess… and spunky strippers, and… uh, old warplanes, I think. And them’s good eatin’, right?)
Moving on.
So, in addition to ‘spitfire’ and ‘hellcat’, there’s also ‘hellfire‘. Which is not so good, from what I understand, but it still gets a lot of play, particularly from the Southern Baptist crowd.
But with all of these combinations, wouldn’t you expect there to also be a ‘spitcat‘? Where the hell’s my ‘spitcat’, people? What do the wordmakers have against ‘spitcat’, dammit? I want my fricking ‘spitcat’!
Oh, come on. Where’s your sense of moral outrage? All used up on Janet Jackson’s boob?
Yeah, well, you’re not the first to ‘use it all up’ on those plastic taters of hers. Take a number.
And… you know, let’s not tell anyone about this whole ‘spitcat‘ thing. I just feel dirty now. Maybe I’ll go watch some gymnastics. Those spitcats are tasty!
Permalink | 2 CommentsHey, I almost missed Buzz‘s latest Blog It Forward! Damn!
Well, to make it up to you — you know, assuming you give an airborne rodent’s heinie — I’ll break down and pick out two blogs to pimp this evening. That’s two for the price of one, folks. You don’t get this kind of deal just anywhere.
(Not from hookers in Vegas, I can tell you that for certain. I could also tell you that those high heels they wear hurt like hell. But I won’t, because that might just make it a little too real. Let’s move on.)
So, two BIFs, eh? Well, how about these:
I just met Disillusioned of American Diatribe today (why, yes, it does pay to have good timing; why do you ask?), but we’ve hit it off famously already, and she’s definitely worth a read.
(Even when you get past the part in her most recent post where she pimps me for no good reason. Come to think of it, that’s the least sparkling part of her site, because it involves me — I tend to bring the whole team down, and make all the players around me worse. And angry, and sometimes a little gassy. Yeah, so forget that part, and move on to the good stuff. You’ll like American Diatribe; go check it out.)
The other object of my adoration this time around has got to be Flip over at Here Somewhere. Seriously, what’s not to like? She’s smart, funny, witty, and — big extra bonus — Swedish.
(And no, she doesn’t talk like that. I asked already.
The ‘meatballs’ question is still up for grabs, though — get it while it’s hot!)
Anyway, Flip has also been nice enough to correspond with me recently, and even answered a set of my interview questions. (And she got five long posts out of them, so you can see she’s a verbose little puppy… just like me!) But all of her ‘Stuff’ (the term she prefers to ‘blog’) is very interesting, and well worth a thorough perusal. Go, Flip!
Well, that’s it for my BIF duties, I suppose.
While I’m here, I’ll add a quite footnote about the Blog Madness 2003 tourney — despite my best efforts, I was thwacked out of the winner’s bracket last round, and dumped into the ‘loserly’ pool. I’m not sure yet who I’m up against, but the voting starts up again tomorrow. Hopefully, I can stave off elimination and live to avenge my beating. I’ll tell you more as soon as I know — be sure to check it out!
Permalink | 4 CommentsHey, folks — it’s time for this week’s King of the Blogs ‘Judge’s Challenge’ question. I’m vying with two other challengers who’ve made it to the second round, so wish me luck. I’m not sure how entertaining this will be, per se, so please bear with me if this post gets all uncool and heavy.
(Give yourself a pat on the back if you know what TV show ‘uncool and heavy’ comes from. And add a quick little diddle if you can name the character who often said it.
Oh, go on — diddle. It’s okay; you’ve earned it. Just tell people I said it was all right. They’ll understand.)
Anyway (aka, ‘Stop me before I make you diddle again!‘) — on to this week’s Challenge:
‘Why do you think what you have to say is important to blog readers?‘
Well, it’s pretty simple, really. The short answer is: I don’t.
(But I’ve never been about ‘short answers’ around here, now, have I? My one-liners go on for three pages. So you just know I’ve got more to say. And far be it from me to disappoint — that would just be rude.)
So, the long answer is this: I frankly don’t think any blog has something important to say to blog readers, including those that are devoted to ‘important’ issues like politics, religion, current events, or the surprise unveiling of Janet Jackson’s peek-a-boob. As a matter of fact, especially those.
(Now, before you fellow bloggers get your McKnickers in a twist, let me explain. Stick with me here.)
Let’s face it — blogs are, by definition, personal sites. Whatever the subject matter may be, however lofty the goals in starting one up, everything contained within a blog is colored, flavored and lemony-scented with the opinions, experience, and outlook of the author. There’s no way around it, and frankly, there shouldn’t be. Weblogs are intended to be vessels of personal expression, and there’s no guarantee of impartiality, fairness, truth, or non-loopy ideas expressed or implied. And that’s all well and good.
(Well, on the loopier end of the spectrum, it does tend to get a bit less well, and sometimes not at all good. But we’re talking generalities here, people. Don’t use crackpots and potheads (or crackheads and potcracks, for that matter) against me — I’m making a point, dammit.)
And what I would say is this: If something is important to you, then I would submit that you should make up your own damned mind about it. Certainly, you’re welcome to listen to (or read) the opinions of others, provided that you remember to take them with a siloful of salt. But to me, the only important thing in the process is what you decide to take away from it — is there really a God? Who should really lead the country? Have we really landed two robots on Mars? And was Janet really wearing a ninja throwing star on that silicone-engorged love pillow of hers? (And for the love of halftime festivities, why?!)
I’d go a step further. (Maybe two. Maybe even a little cha-cha-cha further, all the way across the room. We’ll see when we get there, yes?) I’d say that the more important an issue is to you, then the less important should others’ opinions on that matter be. Why? Well, first of all, if you feel so strongly about something, then (and yes, I’m being shamelessly, optimistically naive here) you presumably found your conviction at the bottom of a large pile of hard evidence, well-reasoned discussions, and a helluva lot of ‘me time’ to think it over. And, no doubt, you’ve already heard a number of opinions, both ‘yea’ and ‘nay’, on the topic. So while I believe that you should remain willing to listen to others’ views, and keep an open mind should new evidence present itself, I’m very skeptical about ‘important’ new information coming in the form of a personal opinion on a blog written for personal reasons by a person who (in nearly all cases) knows little to nothing about that particular reader’s history and situation. It’s like throwing darts at a postage stamp — sure, you occasionally get lucky and find a gem of an idea to chew on… but with that kind of signal to noise ratio, would you really consider it ‘important‘?
The thing to remember, in my piddly little opinion, is that Everything (yes, with a capital E) is subjective. What’s important to you may not be important to me, and some things that are beyond trivial for most folks are — trust me on this one — absolutely crucial, in my mind. So I frankly think it’s impossible for me, or anyone else penning a web page for ultimately personal reasons, to predict what’s going to be important for their readers, or even a majority of their readers, or even that one, over there, in California. Yeah, you, there — drinking coffee, with your feet on your desk. How the hell should I know what’s important to you? I wish I could, but I can’t.
(Though I really, really suspect that it’s probably important for you to get your finger out of your damned nose. Important to me, anyway. I’m trying to eat dinner over here, if you could put off those nasal excavations, just until you click through to the next site, please. Thanks so much.)
Of course, now that I’ve answered the question really negatively, and then suggested that it can’t really be answered honestly at all… I’ll go ahead and answer the question. And even try not to contradict any of the above.
(Hey, never let it be said that I don’t try to cover my ass around here, folks. This is a tricky one — don’t try this at home.)
So, keeping in mind my views that:
I’ll say this: I write about things on my site that make me giggle. There are certainly some (rather outlandish) opinions expressed in my blatherings, but I’m frankly not interested in using my site to sway public opinion, or engage in debate over weighty issues like presidential primaries, spirituality, or the latest slap-and-tickle fight in the European Union. These may be important things to you, and they may not. Either way, what I have to say about them would likely mean very little to you.
(And in most cases, even less to me. Six old white guys grappling to gain the favor of a bunch of people I don’t know in Iowa, so one of them will have a leg up to run against another old white guy for the privilege of throwing out the first pitch on Opening Day? Snoooooooze. Wake me up when it’s all just a soul-numbing memory.)
So, my goal is to entertain. First myself, but if the ‘poopenheimer’s and ‘boobered’s and ‘inflatable sheep doll’s on my blog get a chuckle or snort from other folks, then frankly, I’m thrilled. And, based on the fantastic comments and emails I’ve gotten from kind readers, it seems that a few people out there really do appreciate this crap.
(And that does nothing but encourage me, which should really make you lot who don’t get it shake your heads in dismay. Suck a sheep doll, ya boobered poopenheimers!)
And in the end, that’s one thing that I do think is important — taking time out of crazy, hectic schedules to have a little giggle or two. (Or to upsnort Sanka all over your monitor screen, if you’re so inclined; it’s all good.) Would I say that’s ‘important to blog readers’, as per the question? Well… maybe. Some of them; who can say which ones are going to enjoy what I’ve got to offer, or whether a quick laugh is really all that ‘important’ in their world view? I’m not Santa frickin’ Claus — how could I know these things?
All I can really say is that what I write is important to me, and that I cherish the friends I’ve made by writing things that they enjoy, as well. And that’s the most that I think any blogger can really say for certain.
(Well, would you look at that? There was a short answer, after all. Well, rip me a new one for blabbering on for so long before I found it. And that’s twenty minutes of your life that you’ll never have back, too. Ain’t I a stinker?)
Permalink | 5 Comments