Ooh la, so my rampage that I go on at the end of every school quarter has caught up with me today.
I ran out this afternoon, like the Eager Mail Beaver that I am, to flip open the little white door that I always think will reveal golden treasure of Ark-of-the-Covenant proportions, but usually just reveals the mail equivalent of Gong Show donkeys.
Today it was a Gong Show Ark, if that makes sense. Okay, it doesn’t.
I reached in and pulled out a copy of Entertainment Weekly that did not have a bill attached to it, and it even had my name spelled correctly: “SJ.” How did this miracle occur? Usually it’s “S.J.” because no one realizes I have a middle name too, and am not just initials. Or at school I am the ever-popular “Sj” because their computers can’t accept two caps in one field. Or “S J” all spread out which makes me think that they want to say my name extra-slowly. Tenderly. A whisper from across a crowded room.
ANYWHO. As I was thinking all of this, I realized 1. that I was getting very wet in the rain, standing there, staring. And 2, I had some dim recollection of a late-night session of drinking and clicking, drinking and clicking…something about eight free weeks of EW, with absolutely NO obligation on my part, I could cancel anytime, etc.
Damn you, Gato Negro. Damn you straight to Hell. Double that for pop-up ads. On the other hand, now I have something to read in bed tonight! You go, Intoxicated SJ! My past self looking out for my future self! Great Scott!
I know of that drooling feeling when you have something to read in bed. I usually steal something good from the dentist, the doctor, the laundrymat, the gym.
Thanks for the chortles, chica. I do appreciate it. I can’t seem to shut up about all the junk and so thanks.
And yes. I’m scared to do anything also–although I try. It is bizarre to be scared this way.
I also considered heading to a protest re: anti war, but figured I just didn’t care enough to participate in a mass stampede of Bostonians. I’m too lazy and apathetic to have convictions I guess.
PS: Love your blog…can not get enough.
Hi, Ms. Pants!
Put up a sticker, go to a demo, and take the anklebiter with you. Or stay home and write a letter. When I walk, the crowds are full of women and men with children. If everyone turned out, no one could be a target, since there’d be too many.
But writing a letter is good, too. One name on a petition represents dozens who feel the same but didn’t sign; one letter represents hundreds in a similar way. For every one person who walks in a protest, or goes to a demonstration, there are ten who stay home because they’re scared. And writing is just as mighty, just as good.
I’ve always wondered why I suddenly had a subscription to TV Guide. Maybe it was another blacked-out night of drunken web-surfing…
Although I’m mostly anti-war, I too am afraid to protest. Hell, I have trouble protesting against my dad … which is sort of sad.
[The above comments brought to you by: The letter ‘Y,’ and about two hours of sleep in 24 hours.]
oh people, people… I don’t mean to sound like I’m telling you what to do… especially on someone else’s blog… but… I’m going to anyway. Please don’t be afraid. This is the worst thing and means our government wins in more ways than one. If you were saying you thought this war was a good thing, I wouldn’t tell you to go protest. But what are you afraid of? I don’t mean that in a belittling way, I seriously don’t understand. What do you think might happen? I agree with K – I’ve been to many protests and they have had kids and old people and if things are happening you aren’t prepared for, walk away. We can’t let fear rule us.
I’ll stop now…