Leap Year...

Recently, an article was brought to my attention by a neighbor, mentioning Leap Day. It sounds like it’s become an urban legend saying Leap Day is the ideal day for women to do the proposing. Tricia had an interesting point on the whole thing: a leap of faith. She says tomorrow is the day to make a leap of faith and do whatever it is you’re afraid to do. What do you think? Is Leap Day, tomorrow, the perfect day to do something scary? I guess I like the idea that, worst case scenario, you don’t have to relive that day for 4 more years. It becomes an invisible action until February 29, 2012.
So, readers, what potential mistakes would you make tomorrow?
I might smile, or maybe keep my mouth shut when I see a public display of affection.


Maybe not.

Dude.

I have just figured out a way to solve one of our generation's biggest problems. No, not global warming or any of that. No...something much more pressing.

The Unclear Text Message.

You know what I mean. We've all gotten them. The text message that leaves you thinking the sender meant something more. There's the drunk variety. The late night messages from ex boyfriends. The flirting messages from someone you might be interested in. Hell, even the misspelled ones. All sorts. And they're annoying.

Not anymore! Not when I'm done with the mobile companies, anyway. All because of The Subtext. I want my mobile to send me a post-text text, telling me exactly what the sender meant. Can you imagine how great that would be?!?

A real-life example: me, to a friend: "Why did you have to move?? You suck."
Subtext: "Dude, I totally miss you."

The best part about all this? It will put to rest one of my ever-present pet peeves. It's been a pain in the ass ever since the first man typed SEMI-COLON, END PARENTHESIS in an email to a girl.

The Winky Face. Ohhh, god, the winky face. How I loathe you, with your hidden meanings and yes, subtext. The most confusing of all text symbols or acronyms, the winky face has myriad connotations. It can be flirtatious. It can say, "I'm only kidding." It can convey a joke. Sometimes it can be a deliberate annoyance by a friend who shall remain nameless. (But you know who you are.) The winky face. (Though as much as I detest the winky face, I also secretly adore it. What would I do if I couldn't analyze a text message or e-mail? I reckon I'd faint from sheer boredom.)
But with The Subtext, the mystery would be cleared up! No more will you have to sit there in agony, wondering what he meant! Is he trying to be funny? Or is that a suggestive wink? What does it mean?? No, those days would be over.

If you work for a wireless carrier, you are morally obligated to take this to your higher-ups. I command you. (And implore you. Seriously.)

With Apologies.

My grandma's funeral was last week. I hate to use the word sad to describe it. I mean, she was 91 years old and did a lot of amazing things. She had a lot of love. You can't really ask for more than that, can you?
This attitude was reflected by my family. Our first hour at the funeral home was just immediate family. And it was so quiet. Just us and gram. I stood there with my brother, looking at her. "Wait…" he said. "Is this Desperado?"
You would like for me to say no.
You would be wrong. It was a Muzak version of The Eagles. Followed by That's What Friends Are For. Yes, our final goodbye to our grandmother was set to the soundtrack of Crap Funeral Home Muzak. It felt like being in an elevator. I did learn a lesson, though. When I'm old and tell my family what I want to wear to my funeral, I'm also giving them some CD choices.
My father learned that mourners don't have their minds on pocket change. Realizing this, he took a turn around the room, sitting on any seat with a cushion. He spent the day telling stories about my grandmother while counting his ill-gotten fortune. ($1.42, if you're curious. Score.)
My brother and sister decided that Grandma would appreciate some new stories about her life. So after a brainstorming session, these two tall tales were added to her history: Did you know my grandmother invented the Arby's potato cake? However, Mr. Robert Arby stole the idea from her before she could cash in.* Also, my grandmother was a WAC in WWII both until and during her pregnancy with my mother. Only when the baby was born did she give up flying.** (Two tickets to Hell for my siblings, please.)
One cousin asked if she could bring any food to the post-funeral lunch. Then she remembered she doesn't cook. After all the guests were gone from the house, though, I found that she'd brought an alternative. A bottle of Irish booze tied up in grocery bag in my bedroom. You have to love family. (I guess she didn't want to share?)
Even though some of us couldn't keep from crying (I did not, shut up, that is a lie.) it was a nice tribute to her. I think my feisty grandma would have liked it...particularly, the hidden booze.

But not, you know, the music.


*Lie.
**Also a lie.

For DJL

My gram would have hated to see this on the internet, but she never used the internet. (In fact, she once read a newspaper article about internet porn and checked that I wasn't "being exposed to pornography.")


"You know what I really hate? *Wait for reply.* People who leave their shopping carts in the middle of the parking lot. And you just know that those people would be the first to scream bloody murder *point finger accusingly for emphasis* if their car got hit by one! *Wait for murmur of agreement...there it is.*"

<3

Top Liars

So earlier this week when I was supposed to be getting some work done, I found myself watching a marathon of America's Next Top Model. (I'm sure my students appreciated my hard work and preparation.)
I like ANTM. It's entertaining enough. But there is something that bothers me...and it happens way too often. (Me, annoyed? You're shocked.) These girls--these pretty girls who have been hand-selected by Tyra Banks as Super Pretty Girls--get on camera and weep because they were "never the pretty one in school and no one ever noticed me." WHAT? Ok, maybe you have some self-esteem issues. I'll accept that. We all do. But you were "the ugly one"?? No. No, in fact, you were not. You're a MODEL. There are NO UGLY MODELS! Models are, by the very definition of what they do, PRETTY. So don't get on camera on national television and tell me, a NON-model, that "everybody thought I was ugly." Because nobody likes a liar, ladies.


Especially not an ugly one.

The Grandma Files.

Blah, for the past couple weeks my grandmother has been back and forth between her nursing home and the hospital. Poor woman. It's so hard to see her go to the emergency room--she's 91 and there's not a lot that we want done to her. So she goes in and complains about the IV and tries to pull it out and then she gets feisty and the nurses have to tell her a billion times why she can't get out of bed and then of course she forgets. We just wait for her to get the doctor's ok to go back.

What a good time.

In other news, we have this week off at school, so our Valentine celebration was yesterday. Despite my general loathe for the holiday, I like elementary school celebrations--because it's just about candy. I'm ok with that sort of priority list. I even consented to wear some pink and red for school spirit day. (I mostly wore black, so don't panic.) The nice part at their age is that it's not a romantic holiday. One of my 5th grade boys brought me an NBA Valentine...can you get LESS romantic than that? I love it!

I have to run now, because guess who isn't feeling well this morning? Oh yeah, my gram. I'll be back soon, internet. Fear not.