Confession Time September 30, 2010Posted by Toy Lady in Family, mirth & woe, random stuff.
Tags: just general griping, mirth & woe, random stuff, randomness, ridiculous, Ugh
I’m gonna just admit it.
I’m really not a very social person. I mean, I’m not a hater or anything – I’m not a misanthrope.
It’s just that for the most part, if I’m interested enough to know what someone is up to, every minute of every day, it’s more than likely that I already do.
And if my fifth grade best friend and I cared that much, well, we’d have kept track of each other, you know?
I never have had a burning need to communicate regularly (or really, at all) with every single person I have ever met. Or people who have met people that I’ve met.
Heck, I barely keep up with my own family. My youngest nephew was 3 months old before I even knew he’d been born.
For a while there, it seemed like not a week went by without someone trying to convince me that it would be a good idea to join some site or other so I could “stay connected.”
Is that really necessary? I mean, we have The Internet, don’t we? If I really wanted to find someone, all I’d have to do is ask The Google.
The Google knows all.
And seriously. Is it truly that important for the kids to “network”? Can’t they ride their bikes or go to the library or something? What about watching some good old cartoons?
That’s what kids are supposed to be doing – watching cartoons, not “social networking.” How else are they going to learn what happens when the anvil falls on the coyote’s head? Besides, who’s in their network, anyway? Suzy from math class? The kid from the bus?
It started with AOL’s Instant Messaging, and it’s just gotten worse.
Remember those annoying IM pop-ups that would pester you every time you sat down to use the computer? You know, I pay good money for software to STOP pop-ups.
But you couldn’t get online without Everyone in the World knowing you were there. And wanting to “chat” with you.
Talk about stalkery.
Surly Boy didn’t respond to my e-mails. I asked him about it, and he said he didn’t check his email much, but I could send him a Facebook message.
I don’t DO Facebook, dear.
Facebook is for sad lonely people with no life. And no people skills.
Mom, even Grandma has a Facebook account.
You’re using my mother to try to exert peer pressure? On me? Seriously?
So I’ve gone and done it. I’ve opened my very own Facebook account. If it’s what it takes to know what the heck is going on with my KID in a FOREIGN STATE, then so be it.
(Peeps, however, has so far not succumbed.)
I’ve even got a couple of “friends” – friends that the Boy doesn’t even know! HA! I have not “friended” every person I ever went to school with because honestly? I didn’t much like most of them then, and I doubt I’d like them any better now. And truly? I’m kind of annoyed by the verb “to friend.” A friend is a noun, darn it.
I do NOT feel the need to play Facebook games, or take Facebook quizzes, or send Facebook hugs, or have a little Facebook Farm. Above all, spare me the Facebook Farm, please!
So, gentle readers, does anyone else do the social networking thing? Why or why not?
And more importantly, wanna be friends?
I Have a Dream Too June 17, 2008Posted by Toy Lady in Politics, Rochester.
Tags: people, Ugh
Alternate title: Here We Go Again.
Martin Luther King gave his most famous speech in August of 1963, nearly 45 years ago. Forty-five years, and we’re still fighting the same fight. The battle lines may have changed, but the war is the same.
I have a dream. All men are created equal. Life, liberty, pursuit of happiness. Is that too much to ask for? Certainly not for our founding fathers, and, a century later, those who fought the Civil War, and, yet another century later, Dr. King still worked to share that American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.” . . . .
How, then, a mere half century later, has the dream of such a noble man, and so many who came before him, been so perverted as to be nearly unrecognizable?
Is it really possible that we as a nation no longer believe that all men are created equal? That we believe that some people – an entire group of people – are so inherently sub-standard that they may not be held to the same standard as the rest of the world?
Last week, Rochester talk-show host Bob Lonsberry actually had the nerve to suggest that perhaps a municipally-sponsored reward for mediocrity may not be the best way to motivate City School District students and encourage success. Perhaps the kids who are quietly busting their asses to achieve good grades, graduate from high school, go on to college and work their way out of less than optimal circumstances are more deserving of praise than residents at the “Young Mothers Program” or participants of some “Black Scholars Program.”
Having a baby when you’re a teenager and graduating from high school while the government cares for you AND your baby is fine for you. NOT getting pregnant and graduating from high school is even better. I’m just saying.
Achieving a “B” average is, let’s face it, pretty average. Maintaining an “A” average is worthy of recognition. Yet we, as a community, seem to think that black students need a “Black Scholars Program” and some sort of extra incentive to do what every other student in the country is expected to do because, well, they just are, that’s all.
And now, here’s the whole Local Black Community up in arms, calling for Lonsberry’s head. Again. OK, maybe not his head. But they want to get him fired for, essentially, doing his job. Yes, he can be abrasive and obnoxious and even rude. But that doesn’t make him wrong.
If people would step back and separate the MAN from the IDEA, they may see that he’s got a point.
It is degrading to refuse to hold our black students to the same standard as we hold our white students. There. I said it. It’s an insult to both of them – black and white alike.
And what we teach our children when we do that is far more insidious, I think, than we realize.
We teach them that the world is a place of entitlement. The one who works the hardest gets screwed over the worst. Or even worse – we teach them that some people just CAN’T compete, that they’re not good enough. So they believe it, their children believe that they’re not good enough to compete either, and that the world owes them something. . . and on it goes, generation after generation.
All men are created equal.
In America, every one of us is free to become who- or whatever we want – to be as much as we can be. But that freedom comes at a cost. We are given the freedom to do what we will with it- and the price of that freedom IS what we do with it. Think about it. Something that has been earned – worked for – is of far more value than something that’s been handed to us. And the satisfaction of excelling – we do our children a disservice when we take that away from them.
It’s no less racist to hold a child to a lower standard because of his skin color than it is to shuffle him off to a separate school for the same reason.
. . . . I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
It’s a pretty dream, isn’t it?
Better to be Pissed Off May 2, 2008Posted by Toy Lady in Home, Stupor Kitty.
Tags: pets, Ugh
. . . than pissed on. Isn’t that what they say?
Well, I’m here to tell you that they’re probably right.
The Big Lug has been doing a splendiferous job on Kitty Patrol. Maybe too good. He seems to have realized that from Peeps’s side of the bed, he has a clear view of the bedroom door, which means that No Kitties Are Getting In Here.
Unless, of course, Stupor Kitty is already in and he just hasn’t noticed.
Anyway. Apparently she did not feel, at any time during the 19 times Jarly goes out during the course of the day, including the big after dinner walk, that she had ample opportunity to leave her castle, go downstairs for some food, water and litterbox time.
Especially litter box time.
She tends to use the middle-of-the-night hours as “kitty me-time,” which, really, is fine. She likes to leap down from the dresser, sometimes landing on me – oof – and just, I don’t know, interact with us?
She evidently couldn’t wait, and with The Big Lug on the job, she didn’t seem to think she could leave the room. So. . . she had a kitty accident.
On my pillow.
Next to my head.
And I just want to go on record as saying
And now I need a new pillow, too. Obviously, I marched her downstairs right past Kitty Patrol. And he never batted an eye. The poor thing was starving. . . I don’t know how long she’s going to stay in her snit, but Stupor Kitty is going to the vet Monday evening anyway, and we’ll be asking about a kitty psychologist. . .
I am not really a people person. April 11, 2008Posted by Toy Lady in random stuff, Work.
Tags: Ugh, Work
Sad, I know, but true. Lots of people say that, but in this case, it really is true.
I don’t like most people. I don’t care to talk to them, I don’t like to work with them, and I really don’t like to deal with them.
Take, for example, today. Mon Capitán is going on vacation. Again. He’ll be out for almost 2 weeks. Which is a good thing, really.
However. There’s always a “however,” isn’t there?
Oh, and our secretary is out today. Fine.
We get a phone call from a client. Now, to understand the situation, you need to understand Mon Capitán‘s practice. We don’t actually deal with individual people. We work with School Districts, Towns, Villages, Banks, Counties, that sort of thing. Very low-key, very low-stress.
So the phone rings, and I, as the last line of defense, answer it. It’s a client. He wants a resolution. “Today would be great,” he says.
Ya think? You mean, you want to wait until the last freaking minute, THEN call your attorney’s office and you expect them to drop everything and serve you?
What is this, Quik Fil?
Um, dude. Yeah, you’re our only client.
So I have to pry the details out of the guy, but he’s obviously not excited to be talking to little old me. After all, I don’t have a “JD” after my name, do I?
Anyway, turns out, I ask him about details, I ask him to be specific about those details, and he answers me.
And OF COURSE, since Mon Capitán is going on vacation (again), this has to be dealt with Right This Minute. Yep. Way to encourage them.
Mon Capitán says he asks the same questions, and the guy gives a different answer.
Sorry, boss, can’t help you. But what I can do is this. I can send the guy an email asking him to confirm the details that he’s previously given me
And wait some more.
Apparently, telling me that you want documents Right This Minute is enough. You no longer have to answer questions or worry about the situation, now that you’ve placed it in my capable hands.
So I wait an hour or so the hear back from the guy, and he’s all like, yeah “that’s what our financial advisor said.”
Of course, if your financial advisor had been bothered to send me a copy of whatever they sent you, then I’d FRICKING KNOW, wouldn’t I???
I really am not a people person.