I asked Jenny, Princess of Candy Mountain, for a Bag of Awesome. It’s good to demand impossible things when you’re taking over the world, in order to test the resourcefulness of people around you.
Cleverly, instead of insisting there was no such thing, Jenny immediately recommended a bag of Aquatic Oceanic Gummis.
“Aquatic Oceanic Gummis!?” I asked. “I will take two bags!” (Candy makes me excitable.)
Cynthia with the Contents of the Bag of Awesome
I took one of the bags to work, and asked Cynthia to help me examine it, to see if it really was a bag of awesome or if I had once again become the victim of cruel marketing.
After going through several keyboards (the tests were quite strenuous), we came to a decision. It was indeed a Bag of Awesome, but it was gone too fast and sadly, it did not have enough octopuses.
The Mysterious Sea Beast
On a side note, we could not identify this gummy in the course of our examination.
What the heck kind of sea creature do you think this is supposed to be? Any ideas? Also, what impossible demands do YOU like to make on a regular basis?
This morning, Jon & I went to Costco to get new tires, bulk food & enough paper towels to build a small, super-absorbent plane.
Costco is not really a scary place, although sometimes I find their raw meat section intimidating, and once a crafty toddler tried to rip off my wallet at the picnic tables.
That being said, sometimes terrifying things are lurking beneath their shelves:
I get it that Halloween is coming. But when I’m searching for yogurt and a bag of fruit snacks, I don’t want to stumble upon a spider the size of a Smart Car.
Possibly, Costco is trying to push their seasonal merchandise by planting it in weird places throughout the store.
That would be funny, and I would buy 6 or 7 to support this campaign, and then plant them around the office. In high, dark corners of the supply closet. Or halfway hidden behind someone’s workstation, under their desk. Or, better still, stuffed into the credenza in the conference room.
What would you do with 7 gigantic spiders, access to anywhere, and enough time?
The CIA offers training in 16 different languages. And they give you “monetary incentives” if you learn them. Wow, pay me to learn a language! Paying for it myself only got me to the subjunctive tense in Spanish and to the point where the French don’t want to kill me when I visit their fair city. Just barely.
It’s Classified
Aliens. UFOs. The real reasons behind the wars. Apocalyptic messages in the Bible. Codes. The minds behind political assassinations.
Seriously, who doesn’t want to know this stuff?
The Salaries
Based on a brief glance through the open positions, the average salary with the CIA seems to be $50,000 to $100,000 a year. So, I know you make more as a hedge fund manager or a consultant. But seriously, as a sign language interpreter?
Here are the keywords that got my attention in this job description:
“Clandestine”
“weapons of mass destruction”
“elite corps”
“national security”
“narcotics”
I want to be part of an elite corps of clandestine spies who traffic in weapons of mass destruction and narcotics with detailed knowledge of national security.
Oh wait, maybe I just want to be in the mafia.
Shooting is a Skill, Not a Crime
So, I didn’t see much about weapons training on the website. This is a shame.
I did find a lovely article about the Iraq War and Biological Weapons (here) and an interesting article about Vietnam (here), which you may read at your leisure.
I Can Use My Major and You Can, Too
Look! Look! They have graphic design/illustration. So, it’s not fine art, but hey, it’s something. Check out yours here.
Apply Now
You can apply to work for the CIA on their website. It can take 2 months to 1 year +, and it involves a background investigation, polygraph, a mental & physical exam, and a test to measure your potential to be coerced.
Although this does not sound like fun (especially the coercion test, which to me reads “TORTURE”), most of these skills are handy if you’re actively pursuing world domination, so I suggest you start now.
On August 26th, my father gave his last sermon prior to retirement from being a pastor for 40 years. Like his many previous sermons, it is thoughtful, truthful, sometimes humorous, and always slightly unsettling when you suddenly find yourself relating to a part of it.
Basically, it’s a good read.
I’d like to thank my Dad for allowing me to post this, and I encourage you to offer comments, all of which will make their way back to Dad. Except the crazy ones. The owners of those will be thoroughly chastised with the wooden pole mentioned in the sermon. (Thwack!)
Without further ado, I invite you to click here to read his sermon, reproduced in its entirety except for our street addresses and a personal part where my father recognizes my mother and her contribution to his life. You have to get the video version to hear that, folks, and it ain’t out yet.
Any typos are mine, as it’s late, and I’ve found that I lack the intrinsic ability to correctly type the word “funerals.” I know it’s disrespectful, but despite that, it still rolls off the fingers as “funderals” every time.
I used to ask people what they’d do if it was the end of the world.
The popular answer to this scenario was: “I’d spend the time with loved ones, somewhere naturally beautiful and calming, like the beach.”
In retrospect, that’s absurd. If it’s the end of the world, there’s a good chance that A) war broke out and it’s not safe to be outdoors, either from fallout, biological weapon residue or angry people with guns or B) Nature finally reacted to our ceaseless pollution and is going to kill us. If natural beauty is going to kill me (see: tsunami), I don’t want to hang out with it.
I would like to be with my loved ones, though. Unless, they too were attempting to kill me. (see: homicide).
But, if I couldn’t be with my loved ones, I’d pick McCain’s new running mate Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin.
Why Sarah Palin?
Well, for one thing, she wants to drill in the Alaska National Wildlife Refuge. I think the actual drilling is a pretty stupid idea, but this proves Gov. Palin at least has access to heavy machinery. Did you see Armageddon? Yeah, one of those drills. We could build an underground fort, thus lengthening our survival by at least 3 days, the maximum time that the human body can survive without water.
Another thing: Gov. Palin is a member of the National Rifle Association. Not only does she fish and hunt (more food for me), but unless she’s a total poser of an NRA member or she hunts with a boomerang, she can shoot a gun. Not that I necessarily support violence, but hey, it’s the end of the world and baby needs lunch.
Finally, if you’re attacked by other survivors who are trying to steal your fort, or your freshly-hunted food supply assuming you have one, it’s good to have basketball point guard “Sarah Barracuda” on your side. In case you aren’t familiar with what a barracuda looks like, here’s a reminder:
I rest my case.
Click here for more terrifying facts about Sarah Palin, potential VP.
Click here to read how Palin balances McCain and here to read about another woman’s perspective on Palin.
There’s a space for your potatoes, your hamburger and your salad, with little walls in between so your dressing doesn’t leak all over the place and make your bun foul and unclean. (I.e. soggy.)
I love those plates. My food doesn’t like to touch. And yes, I know it all mixes together in my stomach. But, my friends, my taste buds are in my MOUTH.
Boundaries are Good
This need for boundaries also extends to my everyday life. I need a balance of time for myself, for work, for friends, family and my husband, and time for millions of strangers (i.e. the internet).
Work time ends promptly at 4:30, except on Wednesdays when it extends to 5:00 to make up for an extra 30 minutes at lunch. This is the first job where I’ve ever held to a schedule, and forced myself to eat somewhere besides at my desk. I’ve always worked 9, 10, 11 hour days, plus coming home and checking my email. If it’s every once in awhile, you suck it up and pitch in. If it’s every day, you’re a dope and need to be shaken soundly.
This Took a Long Time to Learn.
I was given a sound mental shake at my last job, which was a lot like the time my high school Bio class repeatedly carried buckets of water into the woods behind the school in order to put out root fires. I’ve since learned to say to myself, “Class, the forest is burning. Get out or you will be immolated.”
It took an extreme situation for me to make this life change. Some people keep plugging away, members of the bucket brigade for life.
Sometimes, it’s all you can do to keep trying, and I commend that. But, sometimes, you won’t ever see a solution because you’re worn out and just don’t have the energy.
This is When You Should Step In
If you see someone like that, help them. Make sure it’s a real crisis situation, not a personal problem - I’ve gone on crusades before, then found out that I only had half the story. But if there’s a valid beef, help out where you can. You can escalate the problem so the right person is aware of it. You can stand on a chair and scream for help if you need to. Sometimes you just need to be there to listen.
Do what you can, but do it smart. Don’t just pick up a bucket and start hauling in tandem. Assess the situation, and if you’ve got a full-on blazing inferno, don’t try to fix it with small solutions. Gear up for a big change, and call the freaking fire department.
Michael Ian Black’s post Lake Compounce talks about his reluctance to ride a roller coaster with his son. He makes it through twice, but declines a third round, because, as he says, “[I]f we ride it again, Daddy is going to die.”
First I thought, hahaha, Michael Ian Black, you’re old. Then I realized, oh blast, I’m old.
So, here are the Top 10 Reason Why Leanne Is Old:
I only go to concerts with seats. None of this ridiculous stand for 3 hours business. That’s for you crazy leaping fan people.
I know who Matt Lauer is. I watch him in the mornings and wish he did the “where in the world” segment more often.
I remember when libraries didn’t have computer records. I also had a set of encyclopedias, because there was no internet.
I took the SATs when the highest score you could get was 1600.
I’m no longer the youngest person in my office. Not even close - I think 6th? 7th?
Thinking about having children makes me feel warm and fuzzy, rather than nauseated.
I carry around a bag of non-recreational drugs, in case of headaches, muscle spasms, allergy attack, stomach pain or mortal injury. This isn’t hypochondria, I just like to be prepared.
I’m learning to say no to people without guilt, and I’m learning to forgive myself for the fact that sometimes, I just do dumb things.
I am more honest with myself.
Being older’s not the worst thing in the world - there are definite compensations. For one, a facial blemish is no longer directly linked to the imminent destruction of the world. For another, I’m grateful for the time I’ve spent in the company of good people. I’d never want to go back in time and give that up.
Also, imagine having to relearn everything you’ve learned up until now. It would take me years to re-perfect the ability to lift just one eyebrow.
How about you? What makes you feel old, even if you’re not? Who or what makes growing older worthwhile for you? On that note…
If only Charlie the Unicorn and the Onion could join forces and fight for world domination. I would not be able to resist. I know I’ve posted this before, but it’s just never the wrong time for Charlie the Unicorn.
I mean, no offense, but forget Joe Biden - if I were choosing a running mate, I’d just create a Consortium of the Ridiculous and run with them, instead. Although, if he knows what a Leoplueradon actually is, I might have to vote for him.
My husband and I were driving home from work today when we noticed that the car to our left (pictured above) was about to drive into the side of our car.
Now, it might just be me, but as far as I know, you can’t change lanes if there’s a car parallel to you in the lane you want to be in. This is not manners, road rules, or even common sense. This is a law of physics - matter cannot occupy the same physical space as other matter.
So, needless to say, we were slightly alarmed. The driver kept coming closer and closer to our car, presumably in order to avoid being stuck in a left-turn-only lane.
Here were her options:
Brake, and wait for a clear spot.
Turn left, then retrace your steps or find another route.
Keep driving into the car beside you. It will dematerialize if you wish upon a star.
You can guess which one old 580ERV chose.
As my friend Kate likes to say, “Make a better choice.”
We were moving slowly enough to avoid a crash, and we ended up braking and letting her in. After all, we weren’t sure if she had just accidentally gotten into the wrong lane in the first place. This happens to everyone. The trouble is, in that particular spot, people often use that lane to bypass everyone else and then cut back in, so it’s hard to tell.
So, Tell Me About Your Sense of Fair Play:
Is is okay for people like Illustrious Driver 580ERV to do this if they are just accidentally in the wrong lane and never intended to cut in line?
Is all fair in love, war & traffic - if people can get into the lane, they should do it, and if you don’t like it, stay away from cars.
Or, should we have followed her home, waited until she slept, broken into her car, and filled it with the slain bodies of sea crabs, so it had a nice, fresh aroma when she got up to go to work?
What does your sense of fair play say? What do you do when you’re faced with the hazards of driving with bad drivers? And, in a misguided attempt to channel all your driving rage ever in one vengeful act, do you know where I can get a couple hundred sea crabs?
I went to the mall tonight with my roommate from college.
We were leaving Panera when I saw the most disturbing thing since the animated version of Watership Down.
Check it out yourself:
If you can’t quite see it, it’s a picture of a teddy bear in sunglasses, slowly turning a crank attached to the machine he’s standing on.
Inside the machine, piles of fluffy bear guts are spewing out and cycling around and around, moved by the bear on top.
This is so ominous.
What is the purpose of this?
Killer teddy bears?
Why did the bear kill all his companions? Why did he put their remains into a lit-up box and mix them all together? More disturbing still, what marketing director thought that this was a positive message for children?
I am mystified. Take another look:
What is going on here? Please make up an evil reason as to why this bear is so angry with his friends that he is attempting to liquefy them through centrifugal force.
I asked Jenny, Princess of Candy Mountain, for a Bag of Awesome. It’s good to demand impossible things when you’re taking over the world, in order to test the resourcefulness of people around you. 
