Things that make me happy and things that make me sad, with bolded subtitles for easy skimming.
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Things that make me sad.
Bad spelling and punctuation
Or, worse yet, when I notice something that I've typed with bad spelling or punctuation. Like when I noticed that I pluralized something with an apostrophe before the 's.' Something in me dies when that happens.
Not acknowledging that autism exists
For example, this blurb about John Travolta's deceased son:
"In a new development, reports are coming in revealing that official documents concerning the death of John Travolta's young son, Jett, confirm that the boy suffered from autism.
In fact, the report has John himself using the terminology, which is against the beliefs of Scientology.
Within the religion, there are rules concerning the practice of medicine, particularly ailments that are considered psychiatric diagnoses, such as autism. Scientoligists believe that diseases such as this are "fake" and rather than seeking medical treatment, practitioners are advised to stick to a Scientological detoxification regime.
There is no word yet if there will be a backlash against the actor for acknowledging his son's autism, but as a high-profile Scientologist, it is bound to send a stir in the community."
At the last company that I worked for (in LA) we had a client whose parents thought that his autism was really just a demonic possession, and regularly had him exorcised. People, there's a reason your priest can't cure your son. No amount of holy water will reverse a neurobiological disorder.
Blisters
'Nuf said. I went to the track this morning fully intending to run 10-12 laps, depending on my will power, and only made it to 5 because I felt a blister swelling with every thump of my right foot. Dear blister: 1.25 miles is not going to make me skinny. GO AWAY, YOU AREN'T WELCOME ON THE ARCH OF MY FOOT. Affectionately yours, Lauren Kay Palmer.
My boobs
Sorry to anyone who feels uncomfortable with this topic of blog-ersation, but really they're making me crazy enough to remark about them. Who thought it was okay to have 5XL boobs, and yet be a medium everywhere else? It makes buying clothes really difficult, and sports bras REALLY uncomfortable. Anyone want to surgically borrow some flesh from me?
Phew, that's over. Things that make me happy!
People watching
The way Brazilian women dress to go grocery shopping. The way I walk down two blocks in my neighborhood and hear five languages spoken. The way Bostonians dress as if they've earned the right to be shlumpy through their PhD's. Because here, ratty hooded sweatshirts and flip flops aren't just an outfit, they're a way of life.
The little things
Like, for example, buying new razor blades (such smooth legs!) and getting free shaving cream with them (thanks, CVS, even smoother!!)
My 3,000 year-old Chinese landlord, who speaks no English
Except for "pay car now" for parking, and "hellololo" for hello. I love how his face lights up whenever I say "hi" to him (and he says hellololo back) as if no one ever talks to the man. And somehow he's developed some crazy drug that makes roses grow to insane heights and widths. Good job, old man.
Weekends
Because I can sleep in until 10am, sit on my bed with the windows open and listen to the trees rustle, and peruse the internet for hours at a time.
My mom
Happy Birthday!
Sheepishly giving in to the pressures of Pop music
and downloading songs that a person would hear on "JAM'N 94.5" or "KISS 108." I don't want people to know that I just downloaded that song featuring T-Pain, but when no one's looking I'm going to get down and boogie to it!
Bad spelling and punctuation
Or, worse yet, when I notice something that I've typed with bad spelling or punctuation. Like when I noticed that I pluralized something with an apostrophe before the 's.' Something in me dies when that happens.
Not acknowledging that autism exists
For example, this blurb about John Travolta's deceased son:
"In a new development, reports are coming in revealing that official documents concerning the death of John Travolta's young son, Jett, confirm that the boy suffered from autism.
In fact, the report has John himself using the terminology, which is against the beliefs of Scientology.
Within the religion, there are rules concerning the practice of medicine, particularly ailments that are considered psychiatric diagnoses, such as autism. Scientoligists believe that diseases such as this are "fake" and rather than seeking medical treatment, practitioners are advised to stick to a Scientological detoxification regime.
There is no word yet if there will be a backlash against the actor for acknowledging his son's autism, but as a high-profile Scientologist, it is bound to send a stir in the community."
At the last company that I worked for (in LA) we had a client whose parents thought that his autism was really just a demonic possession, and regularly had him exorcised. People, there's a reason your priest can't cure your son. No amount of holy water will reverse a neurobiological disorder.
Blisters
'Nuf said. I went to the track this morning fully intending to run 10-12 laps, depending on my will power, and only made it to 5 because I felt a blister swelling with every thump of my right foot. Dear blister: 1.25 miles is not going to make me skinny. GO AWAY, YOU AREN'T WELCOME ON THE ARCH OF MY FOOT. Affectionately yours, Lauren Kay Palmer.
My boobs
Sorry to anyone who feels uncomfortable with this topic of blog-ersation, but really they're making me crazy enough to remark about them. Who thought it was okay to have 5XL boobs, and yet be a medium everywhere else? It makes buying clothes really difficult, and sports bras REALLY uncomfortable. Anyone want to surgically borrow some flesh from me?
Phew, that's over. Things that make me happy!
People watching
The way Brazilian women dress to go grocery shopping. The way I walk down two blocks in my neighborhood and hear five languages spoken. The way Bostonians dress as if they've earned the right to be shlumpy through their PhD's. Because here, ratty hooded sweatshirts and flip flops aren't just an outfit, they're a way of life.
The little things
Like, for example, buying new razor blades (such smooth legs!) and getting free shaving cream with them (thanks, CVS, even smoother!!)
My 3,000 year-old Chinese landlord, who speaks no English
Except for "pay car now" for parking, and "hellololo" for hello. I love how his face lights up whenever I say "hi" to him (and he says hellololo back) as if no one ever talks to the man. And somehow he's developed some crazy drug that makes roses grow to insane heights and widths. Good job, old man.
Weekends
Because I can sleep in until 10am, sit on my bed with the windows open and listen to the trees rustle, and peruse the internet for hours at a time.
My mom
Happy Birthday!
Sheepishly giving in to the pressures of Pop music
and downloading songs that a person would hear on "JAM'N 94.5" or "KISS 108." I don't want people to know that I just downloaded that song featuring T-Pain, but when no one's looking I'm going to get down and boogie to it!
2 comments:
Amen to bad punctuation, etc. And yes, I will gladly take some of your boob flesh. Even being pregnant hasn't seemed to enlarge mine (they significantly shrunk after Rose stopped nursing, and I think the change is permanent)!
Me want to meet your Landlord! He sounds like a riot. Ask him if he'll make you some bomb Chinese food?
Loveoveove, David
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