cindy's world

Yesterday evening, Mr. W reportedly bribed his son, saying dinner out is on him if Son would drive to his mom’s house to retrieve Mr. W’s Playstation2 console, Guitar Hero games, and guitars. Son agreed, infiltrated his mom’s house (where he no longer lives), retrieved the goods, and received his bribe.

Figuring he was on a role (roll? row? roe?), Mr. W attempted to bribe me this afternoon saying if I go over to his house after work, I can play Guitar Hero. I replied that I didn’t care to play Guitar Hero, that’s an ineffective incentive for me to drive over there. Especially while my house is being worked on by the roofers (they woke me up with loud pounding this morning at 7am, which, mind you, is “really” 6am with the weekend Daylight Savings adjustment) this week. He admitted that he just wanted me over and thought offering Guitar Hero playtime would do the trick.

After gym trainee and I returned from our lunchtime gymming, I noted my craving for a smoothie, and decided to bribe Mr. W with my going over to his house after work IF he got me a smoothie. But the difference between me and everybody else is that NOT only am I NOT bribe-able due to my high integrity and true sense of self, but I am also not one to use bribery to get something I want. So I didn’t bring up the smoothie offer to Mr. W.

All right, so the truth is that I got busy in the afternoon divorcing people at my desk and didn’t bother to call Mr. W, and I’m more easily and inexpensively manipulated because somehow Mr. W convinced me to go over to his house after work anyway by sheer guilt and expectations alone. I don’t even get a smoothie out of the deal.

That, and the last thing he said to me when I talked to him half an hour ago was, “You need to get some Guitar Hero practice in before we go up north to play with your friends.” 😛 We’ll see if I can kick “wilco” and “flip flop girl”‘s Guitar Heroing asses this weekend.

This is what’s called a cheap cop-out post, friends. I admit it. I don’t have much drama to write about because the biggest dilemma in my life right now is whether to cut 30 people off my wedding invite list so that I can save $3000 to make my budget. I was talking to college roommie/bridesmaid Diana about this yesterday and she said 30 people is a lot to cut. So I floated the question: assuming I get a bartending job that brings home $300 in tips each night I work, how many nights would I have to work to pay for these 30 people? Diana said ASSUMING I could get that much in tips, I would have to work 30 days, because $300 pays for 3 people. And then I felt like “Schindler’s List” and had to stop. “This lapel pin…if I sold this lapel pin, 7 more people.”

WAIT a minute. I just realized she did the math wrong. If I bring home $300/night, and that’s 3 people, then I only have to work 10 days to bring home $3000 for 30 people. I can bust my ass for 10 nights. Or sell my ass on the side. Or, just sell my ass, period.

I am making WAY too many prostitution fundraiser jokes.

Okay, now the cop-out part of this post, today’s lawyer joke left on my desk:
Attorneys Jones and Smith were arguing over whether sex was work or pleasure. Being unable to reach an agreement, they decided they would ask their paralegal to decide the issue.
Upon explaining the question to their paralegal, she thought for a moment before responding, “Why, it is definitely all pleasure.”
Smith, who’d felt it was work, asked, “But how can you say that so quickly?”
The paralegal just smiled and replied, “Why, that’s easy. If there were any work involved, you’d have me do it for you.”

It was freezing last night. My nose got all cold from having to breathe the chilly air so I ended up sleeping with my head all the way inside the covers.

I’ve learned to watch my audience when I complain of cold, though. I’m not just thinking about the people in snowy Minneapolis or sub-zero Chicago rolling their eyes at me (“It’s cold you say? What is it, like SEVENTY over there in Southern California?”), even people in Northern California, like my college roommie Diana, have to put temperature in a separate category for me. Like when I asked her whether our friend Jimmy’s upcoming outdoors wedding in Golden Gate Park, San Francisco is going to be cold. Her reply was, “It’s been sunny and really nice out lately. But yeah, cold for YOU. YOU should bring a warm coat and scarf.”

Is it any wonder my young cousin Mark (with the same quirky family genes as me) who lives in Toronto, Canada would have this IM conversation with me?

Mark: 😀
So it’s snowing out here… and I know you don’t know what that is. It’s basically this white cold solid that comes in flakes. It’s not quite ice but it’s not water either. It’s very annoying to drive on.
Also, it’s quite cold outside.
me: but who MAKES the solid into flakes?
Mark: God?
If you believe in that, otherwise, natural fluctuations in temperature.
me: fluctuations in temperature?
why would the temperature fluctuate?
is there a giant a/c unit outside?
Mark: No no, through natural changes
me: nature doesn’t change!
Mark: yes it does!
everything changes!
me: Okay, I know what’s going on.
Your dad thought it was funny to put all these ideas in your head, liks Santa and Toothfairies and weather changes and stuff.
it’s NOT TRUE.
you’re old enough to know now.
Mark: HAHAHAHA
SANTA IS REAL.
!!!
Hey how often does it actually snow where you are?
me: never.
It hailed once when I was 7, and then again when I was like 15, then really briefly again I think I was 22.
Mark: Wowzers
I had a feeling it was perhaps once in every 5-10 years if ever
me: that’s hail, not snow.
Mark: Oh, nevre snows?
hail as in ice pellets?
me: right.
Mark: Well that’s why all you Californians are crazy…
we all know snow is a natural sedative.
a healthy diet includes exposure to 25% snow a year.
I should export some snow to you
me: box it up and mail it on over!

Diana introduced me to this blog, called “Stuff White People Like.” It appears to be written tongue-in-cheek with a slight self-deprecating tone; clearly a white guy who can laugh at himself and not take cultural chasms too seriously. Many of his commenters, however, could benefit from removing the stick from their anal orifices.

This post addressing Asian women as #11 of stuff white people like, is funny because it rings true. See for yourself!

I got this via email forward from a coworker. Makes you wanna have kids instantly.
~ * ~
Cup of Tea

One day my mother was out and my dad was in charge of me and my brother who is four years older than I am. I was maybe 2 and a half years old.

Someone had given me a little ‘tea set’ as a birthday gift and it was one of my favorite toys. Daddy was in the living room engrossed in the evening news… and my brother was playing nearby in the living room when I brought Daddy a little cup of ‘tea’, which was just water. After several cups of tea and lots of praise for such yummy tea, my Mom came home. My Dad made her wait in the living room to watch me bring him a cup of tea, because it was ‘just the cutest thing!!’

My Mom waited, and sure enough, here I come down the hall with a cup of tea for Daddy, and she watches him drink it up,
then mom says, ‘Did it ever occur to you that the only place that baby can reach to get water is the toilet?’

A Friday and belated V-Day ha-ha, from my judge:

A guy walks into a post office one day to see an overweight, middle-aged, bald man standing at the counter methodically placing “love” stamps on a huge stack of bright pink envelopes covered in hearts. The man then took out a perfume bottle and spritzed each envelope. His curiosity gets the better of him, so the guy asks the man what he’s doing. The man says, “I’m sending out 1,000 Valentine cards signed, ‘Guess who?’ ”
“But why would you do that?”
“I’m a divorce lawyer,” the man replied.

What a difference a year makes. This exact day last year, according to a link Jordan found by googling “Cindy’s boobies” (see post and comments here), the blog post was all about nipple lengths and me, Jordan and Flat Coke challenging each other to flash everyone to see whether Asian nipples are elongated (on comments).

Just thought you’d like to know how in a year, I have matured and grown way too sophisticated to ever post a entry on Valentine’s Day mentioning things like boobies, nipples, elongated nipples, pornography, flashing my friends, or taking and comparing nipple measurements. I am too adult to type anything like that.

Remember those funny little anecdotes my judge was leaving for me on my desk? I got more today and these are my top 2 favorites:

#2
Q: What’s the difference between a good lawyer and a bad lawyer?
A: A bad lawyer can let a case drag out for several years. A good lawyer can make it last even longer.

#1
From Actual Court Records:
Judge: Please begin.
Counsel: Thank you. (to witness) Miss, while you have, if you do have — you still — oh, you don’t.
Judge: That was a great start, Counsel.

‘a’ had done some research on birth order and how being the oldest, middle, youngest, etc. may influence the way we think and act. She is an only-child, like I am, and found this analysis. I’m gonna throw some running commentary in there with it…
~ * ~

You immerse yourself in an interest, until you’re an authority on the subject – no matter how important or trivial it is.
Hmm, is this why people ask me why I know so much crap on random things?

You have strong and well-thought-out opinions.
Damn straight. But that’s just my opinion. I feel strongly about it, tho.

You are in fact, more often right than wrong.
At this point, I proposed to ‘a’ that we make an only-child T-shirt. It will have a heading on top that says, “Hi, I’m an only-child. These are my traits:” and then it would list them. The T-shirt would be black, and the lettering would be white. Except for the above line. This line would be in RED.

You are not very tactful.
Scrapping the T-shirt idea. I think I’m VERY tactful, BTW. I pointed out to ‘a’ that when I say mean inappropriate things about people, I say it tactfully behind their backs.

You grew up believing centre-stage was yours, so when you talk, you expect others to listen to you.

You protect your privacy with a poker face, so no-one can guess the true state of your inner feelings.
My mom STILL yells at me about this to this day. I’m not giving the attitude-face, my expressionless poker-face just doesn’t look friendly, okay?

Not many people get really close to you – but those who do, learn to trust you totally.

You are extremely loyal.

You are tolerant and supportive of those who openly admit their limitations.

You are not very trusting of your women friends, and you have a great turnover in your “Female Best Friend” department. You don’t mind your male friends’ failures – but have a short fuse with women. You are likely to bolt at the first sign of anything seen as bad faith on their part.
And is it MY fault that women are sleazy and backstabbing whores?

You are firm in your opinions, and outspoken concerning your likes and dislikes. You are not into cliches, political slogans, or just plain nonsense. You like original thinking.
After watching an hour of the latest in the election Primaries last nite, I do agree that it is “just plain nonsense.” But there was no other TV on at 4am.

You are extremely tidy and well-organised. Living and working areas are usually immaculate, and you do your chores punctually and thoroughly.
My friends can stop laughing now. I think being an only-child entitles me to being a pack-rat and cluttery, darn it, cuz I don’t have to share space w/anyone or hide things from thieving siblings. Besides, I’m a huge sentimentalist.

You had little opportunity to learn how to compete or share. You now feel uncomfortable with competition, in social or work situations. Competition is a weak point. It puzzles you why people compete at all, particularly over trivial matters.
I think the answer here is that people are petty and lame.

You are the most self-sufficient of all birth orders, and avoid feeling obligated or indebted to others, as you would find this too threatening to your own self-reliance.

You can be disinterested or impatient in other people’s interests if they differ from yours.
Mr. W HATES this about me. Oh well, sucks to be him, I say. I guess I’m pretty intolerant.

You are impatient and intolerant of others.
Eep!

You are extremely frustrated and confused when others don’t do what they say they will do.
Story of my life — dealing with flakes. Long-time readers may remember the whole flake post series from summer of ’05.

You had a lot of exposure to parents’/grown-ups’ thoughts, attitudes, and feelings, rather than children’s, and now cannot understand how others your age can be such babies – so ignorant, or uninformed. This can put some distance between you and your friends.
I don’t keep friends who are babies. For pretty much that reason.

You are exceptionally comfortable with older people because you’ve spent most of your time with adults. Thus, you have developed characteristics that are more pleasing to adults.
This probably explains why boys my age never liked me when I was in high school, and why my fiance is 14 years older than me.

Since you learned to play alone, you are able to enjoy the pleasure of your own company.
Get your minds out of the gutter!

You are reluctant to show your deepest feelings – emotional revealing is not for you. But you are not shy about giving your opinions about everything. People are amazed at these two contrasts in your personality.

You have such an air of self-confidence, that people do not realise your need for appreciation and praise, so no-one reaches out to pat you on the head. A heavy price to pay for appearing so strong. Everything you can do to reveal your underlying humanity and feelings, will help considerably to remedy this.

You can appear like a snob because of your low need for affiliation.
What does this mean? *looking up “affiliation”* Oh, come on, I have friends and partnerships! I just don’t hesitate to cut ties if a relationship becomes toxic to me.
~ * ~

All right, so a lot of things are more true than not. But the only thing that’s important is the 3rd listed trait.

My judge has been in the recent habit of leaving amusing anecdotes and stuff on my chair so that I see it when I come to my desk in the mornings. The latest was this printed note:

The judge was finishing his oral charge to a jury. Being a judge who keeps up with the times, he pointed out in the verdict from where the “foreperson” should sign the verdict.
When the verdict was delivered later to the coutroom deputy, four persons had signed their names to the form.
He now uses the old-fashioned word “foreman”.

At the end of the above printed anecdote, my judge had written underneath:

Why not forecreature?

I thought it was hilarious, and showed the paper to Mr. W. After reading it, his expression did not change. “I don’t get it. I read it again and I still don’t get it,” he said. Oh, that reminds me. I was supposed to explain it to him yesterday.

*** Addendum, 1:15p ***
I just got back from the gym. On my chair, there’s another printed thingie from my judge. This one reads:
Q: What do you call a lawyer with an IQ of 70?
A: Your Honor.
– Jonathan Willier