Category Archives: That’s terrible.

Mostly the puns I come up with, unless something terrible really does happen, in which case I’ll have to change my folksonomy.

Bitch needs help!

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Bitch magazine

Due to the general slump and a specific print-media slump, Bitch magazine is on shaky ground. Other magazines with giant parent companies have the capital to weather these bumpy times. Bitch is nonprofit, and that generally means go down fighting.

They need $40, 000 before October 15 to print the next issue. You can donate here. You can also buy a subscription (that’s what I did, along with a donation), or send a subscription to someone else – it helps Bitch, and it definitely falls into the category of a gift that keeps on giving. The first person to send a year’s subscription to a friend and comments on it will receive a year’s subscription from me. Yay, altruism abound!

Even once they reach the mark, that means they’ve covered the *next* issue, not that they’re sitting pretty. Go on, donate!

(Also, doesn’t Andi Zeisler look like a certain Kate B.?)

Agaiwn

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I don’t seem to be a very good voter. There was the great debacle of 2004, and now again I have found out that by moving too much and not keeping track of the whatsits and whosits, I can’t vote tomorrow.

This weekend I moved. I live in the same state I did before I moved. I just didn’t let the election people know. I can drive back to my old city and vote there (and 4 hours in the car), or just throw my hands up, again.

On the upside, this is just the primary. I shall have my docudrama in order for the biggie.

Altruism foiled again.

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In high school, my sister and I started this thing where we’d knit mittens for any of our friends who quit smoking. It was a small gesture, but symbolic. Smoking with mittens on is not easy, and can end with melted acrylic or scorched wool. I’ve knit dozens of pairs of mittens for friends, and I’d like to think it helped just a little.

I was bummed out to see that I’ve been foiled.

Turkey Day

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As a children’s librarian, I am obligated to celebrate the major holidays. For storytime today, I chose the rite-of-passage craft of making hand-turkeys. I’m sure I don’t even need to explain what they are, for everyone knows.

I’ll show you anyway, because it’s so quintessentially American:
Hand turkey

I’m not a big theme-girl, so I’ve never tried to craft a storytime theme all about bears, or about flowers, or whatever. Today, though, I felt the need to present a Thanksgiving-related series of stories. As I crouched near the Thanksgiving books, looking for age-appropriate stories, I realized that at least half of the stories were about turkeys. In every single book, the point of the story was that the assumption would be that the turkey would be eaten, and in the end, it would not. I don’t know if this is a common theme because it’s an early lesson in plot twists, or because secretly all children’s authors are vegetarian.

I could have easily made the theme of this week’s storytime “Where Meat Comes From”, and open the eyes of those three-year-olds who don’t realize that turkey is made out of turkeys. I chose not to. That’s not my fight. Not this time.

The Trees Fight Back

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From one of my favorite comics, The Perry Bible Fellowship:

The Unforgiving Tree

I was always weirded out by the original. I understand the analogy to be that of a caring adult – ready to give the shirt off their back to make the next generation happier. I think that paradigm is outdated.

Kids are assholes with cell phones. With all the baby boomers, you’d think the we could rewrite the story. You come to the tree, it talks to you, it gives you some apples, you leave with the apples, then you come back and mulch it, then spray for tent worms.

Enjoy the fall!

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Jason and I were addressing thank-you notes last week, and I wrote “I hope you enjoy the fall!” on a note to a very old lady. I hope she understands my sentence to mean that I would like for her to have a happy autumn, and not that I’m clairvoyant.

Cashing in on children’s joy

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I just read an article about how Scholastic and Warner Bros. are cracking down on the nefarious Harry Potter underground raves.

Apparently the book launch parties are breaking the rules we all consented to when we signed the street date affidavit (I didn’t really read it, I just knew it meant I couldn’t bring the book out before July 21).

If you want the details, you can read the article. They don’t specifically mention libraries, but what they’re describing still applies to the party we’re planning to have.

We’re not changing a thing about our party. We’re referring to it as a Hewlet-Packard party to avoid the cops/Deatheaters, but being a nonprofit in a small community, I think we’ll be under the radar.

Still, it’s upsetting.

OCD, yeah you know me

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Wadsbone and I chose to eat at Perkins tonight after looking at bikes, and it reminded me of a recent Perkins faux pas.

So, I’m at Perkins a few weeks ago, because my good friends Angie and Chris were in town, and this was the brunch that sent them on their way. We’re wrapping up, and I go to the women’s room before we all leave.

My actual personal experience with the terlet was average, but what happened next left me embarrassed and giggling for a few hours. I didn’t want to miss Angie and Chris’ exit, so I was rushing. I went to the sink to wash my hands, where another woman was also performing ablution. As I finished, I went over to the paper towel dispenser. There was only one dispenser, and apparently the other woman had pushed the little lever to give herself a foot and a half of paper towel before she washed her hands. In my rush, I didn’t let the situation (excuse the pun) sink in, and in my rush, decided the best course of action was to rip off the amount of paper towel I needed (enough to not have soaking wet hands that leave prints on my friends’ backs) and leave the rest.

paper towel dispenser

As I got back to the table, the situation became clear. This woman hand purposely chosen to dispense the paper towel length she needed before washing her hands so she wouldn’t have to touch the lever with her newly-clean hand. It makes perfect sense, especially if you’re a surgeon or fearful of germs, and I totally ruined her day. I left a soggy half of her desired amount of paper towel and fled the scene.

As I look back, I’m not sure what I could have done differently (other than wait for her to finish scrubbing her hands for the full 30 seconds) to avoid the situation. I didn’t want soppy hands for the farewell, and I believe I was wearing clothing that weren’t up for impromptu wicking.

Now, when I think about it I giggle and feel kind of bad.

The voting post

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I voted today.

I was totally sketched out by my experience.

I was not asked for identification.

I was given a paper ballot in a “privacy folder” which I handed to pollster volunteer who verified that it was legit, then removed the folder and handed me the ballot to put in the scanner.

I cannot believe they went to the trouble of giving me a folder to hide my ballot in, since they opened it and handed it back to me. What is the point? It feels worse than if I didn’t have a folder to begin with.

Jason blogs about his experience at the same polling station here.