Happy Birthday, President Ford!
Is this a secret? Are you still hoping to be chosen as one of the Most Promising Xs under 40?
Parade Magazine said that you should never mention your birthday on the internet or Russian hackers will steal your bank account. Now that I'm 40, I have to believe Parade Magazine.
1: First world problem. Although I suspect the lack of a precise definition rooted in social science research and the wide range of "problems" covered some of which are clearly not good examples of the concept will lead to some here giving this the Alanis Morissette "Ironic" treatment.
Canada Day is also a first world problem.
I feel that President Ford should be congratulated. 40 today! His achievement in becoming President at the age of three clearly dwarfs that of John Quincy Adams in being a founding father at nine.
dwarfs on the shoulders of toddlers!
"Throwing down"? Does this mean something other than "Starting a fight"?
"Throwing down"? Does this mean something other than "Starting a fight"?
The alternative is the well-loved hockey expression,
"Ya wanna go?"
can see further than dead physicists
Until they get the Queen off the currency and stop calling high schools colleges, I'm afraid Canada will never be a real country. A shame really.
By the way, these are some great photos which happen to be of Toronto.
In unrelated news, Canadians pretend not to like it when you call their country "Canadia."
"Throwing down"? Does this mean something other than "Starting a fight"?
Also "to have a party". Urban Dictionary has my back on this usage, and that's a rock-solid authority.
I just wished the one Canadian dude in my office a happy Canada Day. He seemed sort of confused, but tickled.
When Canadians tickle you, it's their way of giving a high five. Fact.
My Canadian workmate went off to London to celebrate with other Canadians [some sort of event in Trafalgar Square].
13: Ahaha. I did this on the Facebook once, and a Canadian politely corrected me on the name of their country. They really thought I didn't know.
Tomorrow, I leave for the wilds of eastern Québec, where I will be celebrating the 4th. We've acquired a metric ton(ne) of Americana tat (including some U!S!A! Mr T-stylee bling) with which we shall torment the Canadians and Scots among us.
19: MC is innocent; it's true! It was a friend of my s-i-l (equivalent). And she really was very polite to the poor, dull American. I'm just glad I didn't say "Outer Canuckistan."
Once I asked a Canadian where she was from "back in the states" without thinking she might be a Canadian. For somebody with no discernable 'eh' in her speech, she was way too pissed at being assumed to be a regular American.
I recently talked to a Californian who absolutely insisted, over my repeated explanations to the contrary, that I must be Canadian (from BC, specifically), due to my accent. It was strange.
1: 40 is the new 30, except a bit older and lamer! Revel in your time!
This moment of Canadian positivity brought to you by Canada Day. Which could probably be renamed Beer and Marijuana and Free Concerts Day, but "Canada Day" is a useful shorthand. I'd say I'll be thinking of my imaginary USAnian Unfogged friends as I celebrate, but that's almost certain not to be true.
My workmate claims he is going for Tim Horton's coffee and donuts.
25: Canadians are tricky so they give their weed less obvious names than "Jamaican Red Whisker" or whatever. Who would ever think ill of someone going for "Tim Horton's" (wink wink)?
I will throw down with you, Stanley.
An acting teacher up here demanded we "cleanse" our accents to work in USian film. His words, "To them, we sound like we're from Michigan, and in film, people from Michigan are stupid."
I apologize to all for this remark.
23: I can beat that. I recently talked to an optician (at the Costco, actually) who insisted I must be from England because of my accent. Utterly bizarre.
27: There are sound NCAA reasons for that kind of thinking about Michigan.
Canada Day is when they give the lesson in the most important rule of being Canadian: sew a little maple leaf flag patch on your backpack so that no one thinks you're an American. There's a good idea!
23: I can beat that. I recently talked to an optician (at the Costco, actually) who insisted I must be from England because of my accent.
At a law school party when I first came to Steinford, I met a young woman who insisted I must be at least part African because of my hair.
I have never seriously believed in Canada. I presume it's some trick like the one Rob Halford suggests in #30, for liberal Americans to avoid the opprobrium while travelling, or an excuse for learning French that doesn't make you look effeminate. Or possibly a tax dodge of some kind. But given how fucking horrible places like Montana or Michigan are in the winter, the idea that someone would have a whole first-world country *north* of that? really. I've been to "Toronto" and "Montreal" and frankly they weren't very convincing.
And people pretending that they play hockey, on ice? And that this is a major spectator sport rather than a circus act? They must think we're born yesterday.
32: for liberal Americans to avoid the opprobrium while travelling
Isn't that what the Vietnamese used to say?
||
Unfogged fail.
Due to a lack of sufficient distractive material I have just submitted my Revised Objectives as part of the 2011 Perf/ormance Mana/g\ement Mid-Cycle Review Pro/cess only one day late.
I blame the Overton Window.
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36: I resorted to making really bad jokes out loud to real people, much to the chagrin of my cow-orkers.
A fine day to note, again, that there are 10 excellent potential states to the north, the admission of which would transform the Senate for the better, and dilute the aftereffects of plantantion slavery so much as to potentially save the world from militarism and climate change denialism. Our Northern friends have the chance to save humanity. Or they can selfishly continue to cling to the notion that a chain donut shop can confer some sort of national identity, while the world burns.
The primary purpose of Canada Day is to highlight the utter blechness of the U.S. national anthem.
there are 10 excellent potential states to the north
Nunavut and the Yukon, on the other hand, can fuck off. On an ice floe.
40 gets it right. We don't want Nunavut!
Quebec shouldn't be a state. It should be whatever Puerto Rico is. Nunavut could be like Midway.
40: But not the DEW line. We built it, we paid for it, it's ours, and we are going to keep it.
I have an outsized sense of my importance!
At a law school party....
Sure. Why not?
||
Via Frowner:
"Lisa said Jacob Cassell taunted the family as the sirens approached, telling them, "You hear those cops coming? They're not going to help you. My daddy is a cop in this town, and nothing is going to happen to me. You fucking niggers are going to jail.""
http://indiancountrytodaymedianetwork.com/2011/06/native-family-attacked-by-skinheads/
||>
Since it is a slow day, I can give an update on the neighbors. Had a yucky interaction with one of them on Wednesday. I was gardening out front when one stormed out, already shouting. I told him I was about to go in and I'd turn the music down when I did. He shouted some more. We're definitely establishing a dynamic that makes him fucking crazy. He shouts, and I look bemused and don't respond like he wants.
A number of things contribute to that. He's starting off pissed, because my music irritates him. I think he's looking to bully me, and hoping to see some cringing on my part. But I can't detect any power on his part, since I'm not scared of the cops at this volume and I'm not scared of his size. So I don't cringe and that triggers him even more. I wouldn't cringe or get mad for him (getting mad and shouty would be entering his territory, which isn't where I want to be) anyway, because my conflict style is to get especially calm and still. That's how I've been my entire life. Remember when we were talking about how some of us have delayed emotional reactions to conflict? I don't even feel mad or sad until hours later, so at the time he's shouting, I'm still being very analytical and amused, which makes him even madder.
Anyway, he shouted moderately abusive stuff at me for several minutes. At four or five minutes, I resumed raking so I could go inside. At eight or nine minutes I went inside.
Then he went to get our neighbor from the other side, a woman in our seventies whom I've known for a decade, to come to my front door and complain to me. She looked a little bewildered in her nightgown and teeth out. She asked what was going on and what had changed. I said that nothing had changed but the neighbors and I'm doing what I've done for ten years. Then he got back to shouting at me from the sidewalk. I asked my elderly neighbor if she'd like to come in to talk to me about it, which she declined and wished them a good evening and shut the door on them.
Among the shouty parts, he told me that they greatly resent that I walk around my house naked. "No one wants to see that." I am apparently a forty year old woman, and too ugly to be naked in my own house, which raises the interesting question of where I should be naked. The guy may have a grievance about the music (but not one that makes me feel at fault, in our city setting, at 8:30 at night, with the relative positions of the house and the actually reasonable volumes he's objected to), but he is also over the line in his reactions and shouting.
I'll get my voice recorder back from my sister this weekend (she was using it to show my nephew's speech therapists how he sounds at home). Next time I want to tape the guy, since he's coming close to threat territory.
The hard part is holding my course. I don't want to make my music either louder or softer for the guys. I don't want to wear more or less clothes than I'd be inclined to anyway. And I wish I weren't contemplating ways to taunt them. They keep threatening to move. Can't be soon enough.
You know, this was all entirely foreseeable when my old good neighbor told me they have three pugs. Anyone who'd get three little ratdogs has demonstrably poor judgment. I should have known.
If this story doesn't end with Megan kicking this dude in the face, and then bench pressing his collapsed body for five reps before throwing him down on his front doorstep, I, for one, will be disappointed.
50 to 47! How far are you from Nevada, Megan?
Nunavut and the Yukon, on the other hand, can fuck off. On an ice floe.
Hey now. The weather is actually improving up there. And gold mining has started back up again in a pretty big way.
Megan, this is starting to sound kinda scary. I'm seeing possibilities for real lose-lose situations here.
Disliking pugs puts Megan beyond the pale. Everything she does and everything she says is now wrong.
Well, I do have to call my BF's family to wish them a Happy Canada Day.
dsquared-- I like Montreal. I'm not a huge fan of Ontario, but I have to say that the St. Lawrence region is one of the most beautiful places I've ever been, but it's really only meant to be visited in summer.
54: That depends. Is her dislike of pugs of long standing? Her wrongness is synchronous with her incorrect attitude to pugs.
|| On every page of the thinkprogress.org website there are tabs for three bloggers: "Alyssa," "Joe Romm," and "Yglesias." Sexist, hispano-racist, or both? ||
Or a clever and successful attempt to defeat the tyranny of alphabetization?
Thanks for the updates Megan. It does sound like the situation is getting worse, and that you're handling yourself pretty well.
I'm not sure how this interaction fits with your description of yourself as conflict averse, but I am happy to be rooting for your neighbors to move. It doesn't sound like there's any reason to compromise (if a compromise was even possible) if that's how they are going to behave.
which raises the interesting question of where I should be naked.
You should post pictures of you naked in a variety of settings and we can select the best places.
Megan that sounds awful. Sorry that things are going so badly with your new neighbors.
Yeah, the music is one thing, but objecting to your being naked in your own house--these are evil people.
At a law school party....
My excuse for hanging out at the law school all the time was that I was interested in constitutionalism (and that the study lounges were nice), but really, I was just hoping to marry money.
||
Does it still count as "infertility" if your wife has gotten pregnant twice in two and a half years, though the first time ended in a miscarriage and the present time goes ectopic?
I'm in the hospital watching my dear Caroline C. McI. F. recover from surgery. A week ago she took methatrexate, a chemotherapy that stops rapid cell division and should have stopped the little lost lamb making itself a home in her left Fallopian tube.
Two days ago, suffering stomach pain, she had me take her to our out-of-network fertility doctor, who somehow thought it would be a good idea to let us hear the brand new heartbeat on the ultrasound before telling us that the drug hadn't worked and that we shouldn't let the sun go down without seeing the inside of a surgery.
The on-call affiliated doctor of our in-network objine decided to throw a hissy fit about us switching doctors (we'd played phone tag with her associate and seen a doctor at another in-network practice who also wasn't available). When the ER floor doctor explained that to us, I said, "We'd be happy to stay with the same doctor. Tell it to our insurance company." He responded, "Insurance may be bad now, but Obamacare won't make it any better." Caroline was hooked up to the blood pressure monitor. She peaked.
Then the surgeon brought it up again right as she was about to operate -- "you shouldn't have brought this to us without having seen us first." Really? Now?
Emerging from anaesthesia, C. was in great pain. Her IV wasn't hooked up right. "You think it's bad now, wait until you have a C-section," said the anaesthesiologist. "Oh, but of course then, you'd have a baby." Finally he fixed the hookup and away she rode on dilaudid dreams.
Between that and last night's Ambien, C. fell into a snoring/moaning fit around midnight. I was staying by her side and couldn't quite decide what to do. I moved her around, held her nose, tried to open her mouth. I recorded the snoring (audio only) for future reference. Finally I asked for a nurse... who brought another... who brought another... "Wake up, Caroline!" they said, until finally, she woke up in saucer-eyed astonishment, surrounded by Filipinas. I waved to let her know she was all right. They turned off the Dilaudid and she fell back asleep. She later said she thought she must have been a medical marvel, to attract six nurses to her bedside in the middle of the night.
Additional notes: in these cases, hospital staff might take slightly more care to refer to "the patient" instead of, say, "the mom." Further: if you ever have to tell your friends and loved ones that you are having an ectopic pregnancy, expect at least a couple of "Congratulations!"
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23: I can beat that. I recently talked to an optician (at the Costco, actually) who insisted I must be from England because of my accent.
(I've told this before, but repetition helps move Overton Windows...): a Belgian guy in a comparative constitutionalism class I once audited thought I was German, because apparently I speak like a German academic (eg. at tiresome length, in sentences with too many dependent clauses).
This was one of the reasons I decided to learn German.
I need to work on my decision-making procedures.
I was just hoping to marry money.
Then the art history department would have been a better choice.
Dear x. trapnel, I have repeatedly been heard as a German by the Dutch and English by the Irish. I am a basically monoglot USian. Should I change careers to the invasion industry?
Wow. Saucer-eyed sympathy, Mr. Fillmore. How awful.
Dear Clew:
Perhaps. But have you given any thought to the fetish-fulfillment industry?
yrs,
X. Trapnel
Oh, Millard, what heartache. I'm so sorry.
That is absolutely awful, President Fillmore. My sincere sympathies, not only for the stress and fear of the ectopic pregnancy, but for the ignorant "sympathy" on top of it.
I once had to call a friend's parents to break the news to them that she was in the hospital recovering from an ectopic pregnancy, a task made significantly harder by the fact that I took her father at his word when he said he knew what it was. Nope. (Didn't figure that out until he had put his foot in his mouth big time, either.)
Sorry Millard. That's rough anyway, let alone the extra ugh.
I am so very sorry for your loss, and for being surrounded by assholes in the midst of it. All healing and peace to you and your wife.
Thanks, gang. It's strangely affecting to be double-pseudonymously comforted by people I've never met. I will share it with the FLOTUS.
We're one bag of pills away from being discharged, so happy 4th if I don't check back in soon.
My sympathies, Mr. and Mrs. Fillmore. That sounds very stressful.
God, how awful from start to finish. I'm so sorry. Why are people so stupid and heartless?
So terribly sorry for your loss and pain, Mr. and Mrs. Filmore. What deep sorrow.
||Stannous Chloride, check your email?|>
Millard, that's really tough. Sorry to hear it.
dsquared's "the idea that someone would have a whole first-world country *north* of that?" had me wondering for a moment what the northernmost place I've ever been is. Surely Copenhagen, I thought? But then I looked at a map and realized it's Edinburgh.
Jesus Christ, Pres. Fillmore. My sympathies.
re: 87
This has come up before, but Aberdeen is on roughly the same latitude as Sitka. It's actually slightly further north. The main continental US is quite far south compared to much of northern Europe.
Good heavens, Millard. My sympathies to you both.
I'm so so sorry to hear about the trials, Fillmore, and am wishing the best for you and your wife. That sounds very difficult indeed.
And boo to crappy medical professionals! I was so glad to finally find a nurse practitioner that I felt I comfortable with this past month, and when I realized it was because she actually listened to me and didn't pass judgment (à la all those comments about "you really should have come in first") it made me a little sad to think that it's so hard to find a doctor that relates to you as an actual human being with feelings. (I can think of so many reasons why they wouldn't, and they'd be perfectly justifiable, but still.)
Whoops, that was me. And I realized that I don't think all the reasons doctors disassociate their patients from actual human beings are justifiable, so I really should amend that last sentence, but I'm tired so I'm just going to ramble about it.
I'm very sorry, Millard. Anything we can do to cheer you up, say the word.
Mother of God, Millard. That's astonishingly awful. The best to you both.
"Insurance may be bad now, but Obamacare won't make it any better." . . . "you shouldn't have brought this to us without having seen us first." . . . "You think it's bad now, wait until you have a C-section . . . Oh, but of course then, you'd have a baby."
Jesus motherfucking fuck. Honestly. There ain't enough whiskey nor tango to counter the ludicrousness of this particular foxtrot. My sympathies.
Yeah, if writing a whole lot of scathing letters to the jackasses who made the process even more awful than it had to be would make you feel better, I think it would be perfectly appropriate.
You could enlist the Mineshaft! I would happily join such an effort.
It is already cheering to imagine a joint-Mineshaft-penned letter to hospital admin.
The main doctor would actually go back and forth between being a dick to being very comforting. Which, when your life is in her hands, just makes her a confusing dick.
I think we'll be too shellshocked from the hospital experience to even deal with the sadness of the whole thing for a while. really, given the surgery and two nights in a hospital cot, the WTF doesn't even register, no more than the bagsack of a street sweeping ticket I got yesterday.
In the meantime there were some bright moments. We decided that it would be fun to watch episodes of House in a hospital, and it was, even though the patient died in one of them.
Wishing you better days ahead, Mr. President.
the music is one thing, but objecting to your being naked in your own house
I am mildly amused by being forced to live the positions I've taken in arguments here on Unfogged. I should check the archives for other cases I've made, so I can be prepared for them to happen next.
Sorry, dunno why my name dropped out of 101.
amused by being forced to live the positions I've taken in arguments here on Unfogged
The most dangerous ultimate game.
So sorry, Fillmores. What a horrible experience on every level.
That's awful, Millard. I'm so sorry.