our DISH TV has a Decision 2008 application that allows you to take a pretty intense quiz that will match you with your favorite presidential candidate. Right after The Office. Or Moment of Truth, of course.
I am 97 percent Obama. Edwards came in second, with Clinton in third. My first Republican was McCain.
Seth took the same quiz and got Huckabee. WTF.
Afterward, we played Crazy Asshole and labeled Guns, Abortion, Immigration and Gay Marriage as the most important issues. The questions you are given very depending on priorities set, so after filling in how many queers I'd like to kill and determining the height of the fences I'd like to build, I became Mitt Romney.
I am watching the Cali-Cali debates right now, and if I see one more clapping celebrity, I am going to kill everyone. There is no reason that Pierce Brosnan should be allowed to vote in this country.
Maybel is three years old today!
She just ran three insane laps around the coffee table for no reason and stopped to barf in the middle of the floor.
Happy 21, little girl!
Feb. 6 could really shape up to be the WORST DAY OF MY LIFE.
It is the day after Super Duper Tuesday, and Hillary Clinton and Mitt Romney have emerged as the leading presidential candidates.
Downtrodden and deeply depressed, I learn that Seth has failed to take not-so-subtle hints suggesting that THE PERFECT Valentine's Day present would be to SURPRISE HIS WIFE WITH TICKETS TO SEE DEMITRI MARTIN (AND WILL FERRELL) in WILL FERRELL'S FUNNY OR DIE TOUR scheduled to play at the Schott at 8 p.m. today! (Feb. 6.)
After learning that my evening will not include tickets to the Funny or Die Tour, I make a desperate campaign donation to Barack Obama, only to learn that the Northwest News reporter, strangely, for unsaid reasons, cannot attend an important meeting of the Northwest Civic Association, so I am forced to cover it for her.
America, in the days leading up to Feb. 6, I think it's important that we understand the ramifications of what shall come to pass if you should fail.
Have you guys heard of Gilly Hicks, the new lingerie store by A&F?
I will never let my children 1.) shop there or 2.) meet Michael Jeffries.
from the Dispatch:
"We believe Gilly Hicks could be a more wholesome alternative (to Victoria's Secret), and mothers would not mind taking their 15-year-olds to Gilly Hicks to shop," Greenberger said.
Like Abercrombie's other brands, what the store is really selling is an image as much as apparel: Gilly Hicks representatives talk about "boy-girl tension" as one of the defining elements of the store, and repeat the backstory of the store as dreamed up by Abercrombie Chairman Michael Jeffries.
In this fantasy, Gilly Hicks was a liberated Englishwoman who moved to Australia in the 1930s. Now, her granddaughter has returned to her historic Sydney manor house to set up a hip lingerie store in the modern day.
"Gilly's" portrait hangs in the "living room" of the store, between the foyer and the "bra library" where hundreds of bras are displayed on dark cherry wood shelves.
Even the mannequins have an antique look, as do the perfume bottles and the glass cabinets that hold them. Plush shabby-chic sofas and art photography books by Bruce Weber and other chroniclers of the male form invite young women to linger in the dimly lit store.
Since Thursday night, I have consumed:
1.) Three bites of leftover schezuan tofu
2.) One Jack & Coke, courtesy of merlin
3.) One grape
4.) One Wildberry muffin
5.) One half bowl of mac n' cheese
Food is such an important part of my life. My routine and relationships are scheduled around it. It tastes good. But recently, the thought of it makes me ill. What's the deal? Do I have another tapeworm?
In other news, Seth has not moved from the bed in several days. I keep checking his vitals, but he is mostly non-responsive. His throat hurts too much to talk, and I keep pumping him full of Generic Nyquil -- at his request, of course. This mysterious illness hits him after The Week of Relentless Headaches. Hmm.
The good news in all this? (Besides the America's Next Top Model marathons, of course)
We're more than hydrated. Together, we've gone through two gallons of orange juice, one gallon of SimplyApple juice, on half gallon of grapefruit juice, and about 37 liters of SmartWater and Gatorade.
So ... Thirsty ...
Get on WebMD and tell us what we have!
Lyndsey: Headache, fever, nausea, unquenchable thirst, burning eyes and gums, mucus.
Seth: Worst soar throat ever, fever, headache, body ache, world moves in slow-motion, unquenchable thirst, rigor mortis, mucus
Other factors to consider:
Bat poo has recently fallen from the attic into the house.
LOTS of lead-based paint has been removed from the house as of late.
Co-workers have recently suffered strep throat (right?)
Here's looking forward to Monday morning! Take your COLD-EZ, my friends. I'm not in a position to call off sick.
there is one thing i must mention about living in the country
Childhood obesity could very well be explained by the mile-long driveways.
When you live in the country, if you are late driving to work in the big city, you will get stuck behind a school bus. There are two places in Knox County where it is safe to pass a school bus. If you are stuck between these two places, you have to wait for the bus to pick up each child on their way to the Centerburg Local School District. During this time, there is ample opportunity for observation.
An alarming number of parents heat up their cars and wait at the end of their mile-long driveways for the bus to pick up their children.
There is one family -- our favorite family -- who makes the kids travel to the bus stop the old fashioned way. Each morning, as the bus approaches, we see the mother holding back two small boys wrapped in several layers of warm clothing. When she releases them, they sprint the 1600-yard-dash to the road, beginning as two tiny, bouncing blurps that gradually form into overstuffed bookbags with two elementary-sized figures attached.
We have toyed with the notion of timing them. It seriously takes like 2 minutes for the boys to get to the bus, but with the right soundtrack, (preferably the 'you're running out of time in World 2-1 of the original Super Mario Bros.' tune) it can truly make my morning.
That is the name of my new angry-girl rock album.
Please forgive me as something like a terrible Jewel poem unfolds here. I have veins that bleed, etc.
I don't know if it's because I haven't seen the sun in 14 days, or if it's because everything in life (down the the floor I'm waiting to walk on!) is in a torturous holding pattern right now, or if it's just January or if it's the amount of time spent starring at a pixels on a screen or lines on a road or the Generic NyQuil.
I think the root of the problem is a book written by A.J. Jacobs, an editor at Esquire, who spent a year living by the Old Testament standards. He did not shave. He sounded a ram's horn at the beginning of each month. He separated milk and meat, wool and linen. He talked to Amish and he talked to a Jehovah's Witness. He did not touch his wife while she was on her mensies. and we are only at Day 50.
This book is reminding me that I suck.
I am fool enough to hope there is a standard somewhere, and although many religious sects disagree where the line is drawn, I am confident that there is no line liberal, forgiving or blurry enough for me to pass.
And lately I seem to join everything as it is breathing its last breath. I am always around when the thing you have just sat in deflates. Soon, plants around me will shrivel. Children will stop believing in Santa. Clown Cone & Confections will run out of Yellow Birthday Cake Ice Cream.
And this man, this A.J., a writer, an agnostic, has the discipline to read not one, but dozens (stacks!) of Bibles and translations and concordances and references. He has the discipline to pray every single morning when it feels completely foreign and empty and weird. (He reads the psalms when it gets awkward.) He has the discipline to refrain from sitting in the sofa when he comes home from work because his menstruating wife sat there earlier in the evening. And I am watching as this man, this A.J., stir up some pretty potent magic -- in exchange for a book deal.
Jim Wallis, whom I consider wise, described the account as 'disarmingly sincere.'
Between A.J. Jacobs and these speeches from Barack Obama, I fear that my heart has grown three sizes too large.
This is puurfec.
Bought us booze and showed us to Wal-Mart: Oliver Hyman
***
I totally worked with that dude on American Idol last night.
If anybody watched the Charleston auditions and noticed the friendly looking fellow whose wife had a baby during the show, you'll be comforted to know that he DID NOT go to Ohio University, despite a plethora of urgent text messages suggesting otherwise.
After hours of frustrated Internet searching, I finally confirmed with my sister that he worked at my father's factory with us in the summer of '03 -- you know, the summer we painted rooftops and inspected douchbags until the wee hours of the morning?!
Oliver Hyman showed us where the Ashland Wal-Mart was located, and he also bought us wine coolers a couple times during the summer. He is also the cousin of my sister's ex-boyfriend, who is named Pilot. Hilarious.
Anyway, Seth refuses to go outside in the garage to get the photo of us all on a company golf outing.
There is a guy named Tanner in the photo, and his job at the factory was to pick up cigarette butts along the sidewalk. He had a bucket with his name on it and was totally crazy. Suffice to say, we couldn't keep him under control on the golf course. Oh man, this would all be so much better for me if my husband would go out into the cold to get that photo.
Anyway, despite the narrative of the birth of his child sprinkled throughout the show, Oliver Hyman didn't advance to Hollywood.
Congratulations all the same to him and baby Emma Grace, born at 8:03 a.m.
Weird.
by Lemonscarlet!
now I have to come up with six quirky things about myself. I wish I could use my friends' quirks I have collected over the years: the way Seth says 'foal' instead of 'full,' the way Talya unloads a shopping cart; the way Emily Blair defuzzes a sweater; the way Klingler steps back a bit before launching into a hearty laugh; the way Colleen can think ahead like 27 steps into any logistic process; there are many others.
But alas, I will speak of myself on this blog. Lord knows someone needs to.
1.) I think my most endearing quirk is my affinity for blogging. No matter how sacred or messy or dramatic or fun, I have already translated it into a 300-word entry. I'm not sure that's what God intended.
2.) "I've got to ..." I've been told I use this phrase a lot. I've got to stop doing that.
3.) I think that Bangs counts as a quirk, as do many of the country-living lifestyle changes as of late: the slaughtered pig, the pressure canner, the cover-alls, the worm compost, etc.
4.) I am an excellent electrician largely thanks to my tiny otter hands. Plumbing? Not so much. Although I've got the crack for it.
5.) My relatively small stature often requires me to cram my arm or self into tight places to retrieve things that someone else has lost. If someone is locked out of their home, I am being shoved through a window.
6.) I ask really dumb questions just earnestly enough to get away with it, i.e., "What happens if I do not turn in this assignment?" or (to a cop, while in the back seat of his cruiser, after seth and I were stranded on I-71 and he had rescued us.) "How do you know that our car is actually broken down and that this is not just a set-up to murder you?"
I would like to hear from the quirksters mentioned above, as well as jwray, pdawg, angie, bill and Lin. wait. now I'm just listing everyone on my blog roll. if you are reading this, consider yourself tagged. That goes for you, too, Dennis.
Let's begin with the ride home from Cincinnati.
Wait. Back up to the First Watch parking lot, where five damsels in distress -- including one on crutches! -- were largely ignored.
If this were a Dateline hidden camera special revealing the compassion of the Greater Cincinnati area, there would be a montage of half-interested men on their way to breakfast, shaking their heads and refusing to assist as we push a broken-down black VW Bug across a parking lot the equivalent of the Graceland Shopping Center.
We've got it, guys, no problem. Enjoy your pancakes.
To add further to the insult, the manager at First Watch refused to let us inquire about the Red Mazda sports car that was parked in front of us, preventing us from getting the jumpstart Colleen's car wouldn't need anyway. We would have to wait, he told us. Don't want to disturb anyone's Gravy Train.
So Colleen's car wouldn't start as we were attempting to travel back home from Porkopolis. So we rode home in the tow truck. With the driver. All three of us. Cozy. Talkin'. For 110 miles.
Here are the top five things I know about Jason, our 24-year-old chauffeur:
1.) He had just recently broken up with his 37-year-old girlfriend, who retaliated by slashing his tires, forcing him to contact a towing agency, which ultimately led to him securing the job in the first place.
2.) Having his tires slashed was mild compared to her previous break-up reaction. She did $500 in damage by smashing out all his car windows. She has three kids from a previous coitus, but Jason still feels like a kid himself sometimes. This often leads to tension in the relationship.
3.) Once, while armed and intoxicated, he got into a fight at a party. The cops came and told him he would be arrested if he attempted to drive. Wanting to return home, Jason called AAA, and paid the driver $20 to have them tow his vehicle about 5 miles down the road. Thinking he had escaped, he was disappointed to learn that the cop followed Jason and the tow truck, but was relieved when the cop let him continue his drive home anyway. "I pulled a fast one on him and he liked that," Jason says.
4.) He thinks drinking beer is "as cool as hell, right there, man."
5.) He has an English Bulldog named Soldier. (woot! woot!)
It could have been much worse, Colleen and I decided. He was neither fat nor smelly nor psycho and his teeth were fairly straight, which is one of the most important signs of a good driver. He did make us stop at a few houses on the way there, which felt odd, and he did ask us a little too often if "we liked to party," and he did make that weird comment about the lingerie store as he was giving us a tour of the Bridal Capital of the World in Reading, Ohio, but all in all, it was not a bad trip for the three of us.
When we got to Columbus, Colleen's dad was waiting in the ACN parking lot with a trailer of his own. All is well. We hope Jason stays in touch.
Also, I love Mae's friends. It's comforting to know that those near and dear to you are in good hands. That was maybe the best part about the visit. That, and just a chill weekend with the girls, playing Scrabulous, watching movies as well as visiting some of the highlights of her neighborhood. The Green Papyrus and the Red Tree were solid establishments.
If you didn't know, Mae had her foot broken and put back together again, and is taking it in stride. You have not lived until you have seen her maneuver a Hoverround in the grocery store. Those things turn on a dime. She is a total Dude Magnet as she makes her way up and down the aisles.
Special shout-out to Talya Strader, who was severely missed. I imagine that Poor Colleen really needed an ally.
No deer hit last night, although this morning we watched an oncoming car hit one as we waited at a stop sign, getting ready to turn on to the road. We passed its twitching carcass a few seconds later, which was quite disturbing. I'm not sure Mae would have survived.
Speaking of, Colleen and I are on our way to see her now.
Wish us luck.
I just hit another deer.
Scene:
A lone Teter drives to a village council meeting on a dark night in Knox County.
L-Jo:
L-Jo: Oh, c***sucker.
Deer is clobbered by the Hyundai.
This time it came out of nowhere, darting out of the forest straight into my headlight, which was broken immediately. The deer was not. He walked away suffering only some light internal bleeding. My hood!
Don't worry. It was our other car.
Did I tell you that Seth had a flat tire last night?
I am not driving tomorrow.
Lin? Grab the shotgun and gas up the truck.
hi. i am a fragile human spirit. and you are my self esteem machine.
i thought that maybe if I obviously asked for an internet pep rally, that i wouldn't have to feel dirty when I got one. it seems that this is not the case.
but thank you, fearless heroes, for fueling my fragile ego. your autographed copy of Dan Williamson's headshot is in the mail.
if I continue on this path, i fear only that the internets will one day crash, destroying my memories, self-confidence and my vehicle for change in America. All will be lost. if only there was something more reliable than Wordpress to put my trust in. something infallible. something eternal. something ... nah. there is nothing like that out there.
the same cannot be said for the deer I hit last night during a midnight chicken run to K-Rogers.
yes, it finally happened. after scores of near-misses, I finally clocked one of those dumb a-holes, although the impact was not as dramatic as I imagined it would be.
Scene:
A deer crosses the path of the Honda about 40 yards ahead of the Teters on a snowy evening in Knox County.
Steter: Where is his friend? (A valid question -- The deer always travel in pairs)
L-Jo:
Steter:
L-Jo: There he is.
Steter: I feel like you are not hitting the brakes as hard as you should be.
L-Jo: Well, the roads are slippery and I don't want to lose control.
Steter:
L-Jo: Hello little friend.
A deer is hit by the Honda.
I had slowed to about 30 miles per hour, and the deer was running along beside us when he decided to dart out in front of the car. I don't know why they always do that. They are worse than the girls in the horror movies who run up the stairs instead of out of the house. A few of them actually have outran us, or jumped and cleared the car to escape ahead of us. But not this one.
Anyway, the Honda has a dent, and I'm hoping that the deer wasn't maimed too terribly. He never fell down, he just sort of rammed in to the side of our car. Tracks indicate he made his way out to the woods somewhere, hopefully to nurse a giant bruise and not to die of starvation related to his broken legs.
tomorrow, Maybel will start her day without her reproductive organs.
tomorrow, or more accurately, in the trail of days and months following tomorrow, i will transition into a new job.
here's hoping that both procedures will remedy recent behavioral and temperament problems. Seth looks forward to living with less aggressive and less bitey companions.
this whole thing is That Feeling, and i hope this comparison doesn't embarrass anyone, when you finally have been asked to the Enchantment Under the Sea dance by the publication you've have your eye on for about three years, and there are two big fears: the first being that you totally made up how great it will be in your mind, and the more pressing fear being that you'll do something absolutely terrible to screw it up -- break a heel, get your braces caught on gymnasium decorations, etc.
either way, it's just a job.
i hope i can do well.
I said ... I HOPE I CAN DO WELL.
Name: Seth
Alias: Teth Seter or Steter.
In Brief: The Steter in his natural habitat. Married to theteet.blogspot.com since August 2004. Often the victim of serious hyperbole. Handy.
Hates: Noise, Dominion Homes, above-the-nipple touching, when people get 'handsy.'
Loves: pies (of any kind), dirt, smoking a pipe after eating pie. also, cows.
Name: Maybel
Alias: The Pig or Boobles.
In Brief: Kentucky-born English Bulldog since February 2006.
Hates: Watermelon. All other kinds of melon. The sound of a new trash bag being opened and sitting in the back seat.
Loves: Treats, walks, Charlie, 'humping it out' and barfing.
Name: Amanda
Alias: The Sister.
In Brief: theteet's younger (but larger) sister. Survived a brain bleed in February 2007.
Hates: minor inconveniences that make her blurt out uncontrollably, brain bleeds.
Loves: UFC, cornhole, texting, fast food and her dog Charlie.
Name: mom and dad.
Alias: the 'rents.
In Brief: Ashland natives and frequent visitors. They taught me how to swear.
Hates: hospitals.
Loves: squirrels and lattes.
Name: Mae
Alias: Klingler or Maddog.
In Brief: Cincinnati resident and former college/Old Towne East roommate. Once wrote a song that made theteet cry.
Hates: Hate.
Loves: Jesus, family, puns, guitars and gardening.
Name: Colleen
Alias: Crankin and Rankin.
In Brief: Akron resident and former college roomie. Arguably more handy than Seth. Nice bosom for hugging.
Hates: all drivers.
Loves: beer, coffee, cigarettes and boys we all find strange.
Name: Talya
Alias: Strader and Sweet T.
In Brief: Chicago resident and former college roomie. served brief stint at theteet's 'accountability partner.' collects monthly fee for keeping quiet.
Hates: people who do not comment on her blog.
Loves: social justice, eggs, her boyfriend monsterbeard and the occupation of barista.
Name: Chris
Alias: Christopher, Monsterbeard and Nadine.
In Brief: Chicago resident and college buddy. Maker of 'We once waited up in the dark with a gun,' and other misadventures.
Hates: people who are looking the other way.
Loves: history, film, his girlfriend Strader and acronyms.
Name: pdawg.
Alias: none needed.
In Brief: Former co-worker who is willing to eat waffles with theteet at 4 in the morning regardless of level of snow emergency.
Hates: anyone under the age of 35.
Loves: Hostess pies, old man rants and golf.
Name: Linsly.
Alias: MERLIN, lin or newbie.
In Brief: Former co-worker who lived with us for a week. I can tell this kid anything. He's like a brother.
Hates: sexual predators.
Loves: zombies, guns, porch chats and movie quotes.
Name: jaydubs.
Alias: jwray and 10bagspacking.
In Brief: Co-worker who taught me everything I know about the world.
Hates: mean jokes, mushrooms, clipping fingernails in the office.
Loves: crafts, her gay-together but also betrothed person Kyle, Columbus Bride Magazine, veggie-friendliness and basil.
Name: jessica.
Alias: jessm.
In Brief: College buddy with the amazing handshake. I believe she might be back from Alaska and living in Hudson now.
Hates: poverty.
Loves: Jesus, jazz, geography and hilarious t-shirts.
Name: brittiny.
Alias: Brit-Brat, experimental dater or The Dunlap.
In Brief: Former co-worker (notice a theme here?) who started with me at SNP on the same day. Former Sorority president taught me the ropes of being a lady. her wisdom did not take.
Hates: visible pany line.
Loves: cocktails, shoes, 'the blue box' and her boyfriend the Lizard.
Name: garth and jen.
Alias: not safe around house plants and the real spider-man and/or HSnothingswronghere.
In Brief: Co-worker couple who proved themselves fun at work and on the farm. Periodically forced to kiss in gas station parking lots.
Hates: local broadcast news reporters.
Loves: zombies, movie quotes, Indianapolis and lin rice.
Name: Angie.
Alias: captain cool.
In Brief: Former co-worker who stole my heart. She is the only thing I've ever lost to the Youngstown Vindicator.
Hates: joe and misogynists.
Loves: celebrity gossip, hilarious captions, biking/hiking, her boyfriend Jef, her mom and Columbus.
Name: Melville.
Alias: welcome to earf or bad town.
In Brief: Former co-worker who let me inherit his seat at SNP. For a while, he was the only one who would talk Reynoldsburg politics with me.
Hates: fleas, eminent domain and people who flip the bird.
Loves: his evil cat, running, opinions, beer and Tom Waits.
Name: The Gerish.
Alias: The Gerish.
In Brief: Co-worker and rare, elusive creature. If you're lucky, you'll see a tousle of black hair breeze by over the cubicle wall.
Hates: Things that aren't crackers.
Loves: crackers.
Name: Dennis.
Alias: secret reading.
In Brief: Co-worker and rare, elusive creature. If you're lucky, he'll walk over and talk to you. But he probably won't. Once took my sister-in-law to Homecoming.
Hates: The damn kids who walk in his yard.
Loves: Corgis, Cedar Point and Rachael. But not the one you're thinking of.
Maybel is three years old today!
She just ran three insane laps around the coffee table for no reason and stopped to barf in the middle of the floor.
Happy 21, little girl!
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