Saving me from myself.

Category: Uncategorized

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The Innernet was all, “You’re Googling what? Naw. Go do something.”
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Fingernail

Category: Uncategorized

Someone lost a nail at the library and then I threw up.

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Inbox Ennui

Category: Uncategorized

Clearly, I give 0 shits about my inbox this morning.

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Oh no, he di’int.

Category: Uncategorized

Mr. fleegan and I were mock arguing about something dumb and I was all, “Oh, I forgot who I was talking to, the guy who punched a retarded kid in school.”
And he responded with, “Well, you were an art major!”

We are monsters.

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Art Night

Category: dribblings

Last night was Art Night at work. The kids were decorating shamrocks when out of nowhere one if the girls yelled out, “And now we will pray to The Lord!”
Then she went right back to working on her shamrock.

Gob smacked.

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Update part II

Category: dribblings

It did not take 28 hours to update the fleegan phone.
It will, however, take at least that long for me to bitch about how horrible the iOS 7.1 is.
The icon colors make it look like I stole this phone from a gingerbread cookie child from Candyland.
How am I supposed to continue to rock a very serious, adult Deathstar background with these pink and bright green damn icons?

I feel like they changed SIRI’s voice a little bit. When I asked her about it she told me she had just drank tea with lemon in it.

This phone. This phone is TESTING me.

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Fleegan update

Category: dribblings

This site has become tiresome and boring, and I apologize. My bad. It’s the iPhone’s fault. Since I have a computer in my pocket I rarely ever turn on Ye Olde Desktop to do anything but write book reviews. (And the occasional game of WoW. And you can shut your face right now.)

So I was thinking, hey, wouldn’t it be great if WordPress had an app that would let me blog from my phone, making it easier for this phone to control my life more completely? Too bad something like that doesn’t exist.

But on a lark I checked the app store. And guess what? That app DOES exist! All glory to the Hypnotoad!

So I go to download it, but the phone has to have iOS7. And see, I’ve been one of the holdouts. Cos I heard everyone bitch about the update and no one liked it and it kills the battery and whatevercakes don’t bug me with updates just let me live my simple life.

Then I thought, hell, just get the update. Then you can do the app and do your blog and be relevant again. Cos blogs are still relevant, right? Right?
Oh my God, what are you talking about?
Did Tumblr kill the blogs? Was it the teenagers and all their FEELS?

Damnit. So much for this update then. My phone tells me I have 28 more hours to go.

What am I doing?

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Little Demon in the City of Light by Steven Levingston

Category: 50 Books

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The full title of this historical true crime book is Little Demon in the City of Light: A True Story of Murder and Mesmerism in Belle Époque Paris. It’s a mouthful, but just go with it.

I know it’s easy to just compare books and authors and I told myself to stop doing that very thing, but reading this book I could not help but think of Erik Larson’s Devil in the White City. They’re both historical true crime, and both use the time period to really bring the crimes to life.

You can tell Steven Levingston has done meticulous research for this book. The scope is really ambitious but he manages to keep it neat and tidy and all with a narrative that draws you in and keeps you turning the page.  It’s the story about two murderers, Gabrielle Bompard and Michel Eyraud, who murder the well-to-do Toussaint-Augustin Gouffé. Bompard and Eyraud start out as lovers, but as they make their journey across the world in search of fortune they split, giving Gabrielle the excuse that Eyraud hypnotized her to get her to commit murder.

During this time hypnotism is a big deal and there are two schools of thought about it. I’m talking two official schools in France. The book offers a pretty great overview of what was going in science and psychology at this time. In fact, this could almost be two books, one on the history of hypnotism/psychology in France and one about the crime, but the way the two parts weave together really make a solid book.

The detectives that worked the case were also impressive, even though the press at the time had no qualms about slamming them as incompetent. I really loved the parts about the Belle Époque because the Parisian fascination with murder and the grotesque was sort of shocking to me. The way the public really loved the guillotine and would travel so far and wait so long to see someone put to death, I mean, they LOVED it. And the museums would set up these gruesome crime scenes for people to tour. Their obsession with all things morbid really added to the drama of the investigation.

If you love true crime, give this book a go. If you love Erik Larson’s books (once again, sorry for the comparison, but seriously, you could do worse than be compared to a National Book Award nominee) for the way they make history come alive, then definitely give this one a go.

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Praise Report!

Category: dribblings

So the other day Mr. Fleegan was looking at our taxes. And if you’ve been friend to the blog for a while you know how I am about taxes. (search the site and you’ll see.) In short, when Mr. Fleegan starts talking about taxes I put my hands over my ears and go, “LALALALALALA!” Like the perfectly normal 6 year-old child I am.

He has my W2, but not his, so he’s looking at his W2 from last year (cos his job stuff didn’t change or anything) and kind of guessing at how the numbers are going to turn out. So he’s tooling around with the numbers and he’s a smartypants engineer-type so he looks up things and figures things out. He’s got papers, receipts, an abacus, scales with doubloons on it. There’s a sacred stone tablet with alchemy recipes on it? I don’t know, tax stuff.

“We’re going to owe again this year.”

“What?! C’mon, they anally raped us last year! What happened THIS year?”

*insert boring conversation with me getting more and more angry here*

So anyway. We owe. Again. Lots of money (to me). I mean, it’s enough money that I couldn’t write you a check for it today. We’re going to have to save and scrape till April. It’ll be fine. Last year Mr. Fleegan got a bonus in March and that’s what we used to pay it off. Probably that’s what we’ll do this year too.

***

The next day I’m at the park walking Roxie and talking to God. Praying at the park is easy cos it’s all nature-y and the sun was out which makes everything pretty. You should try talking to God at the park sometime. So I’m talking to God all, “Hey listen, Lord, this whole tax thing. It’s such a bummer. But hey! I’ve got those paintings downtown! If my two paintings sell, that would be almost enough to pay our taxes! Yeah, yeah that sounds good, right?” Cos making up the difference is a doable number.

But then my next thought is, Jaimie, are you trying to give God an idea? Like God doesn’t know all the ideas? Like God wouldn’t have a BETTER idea?

So then I’m all, “Hey Jesus, nevermind. Here’s the thing, you know exactly what we need, and you always provide for us, so thank you. Thank you for your provision that I know you’re going to give us. In Jesus’ name, KTHXBYE.”

Didn’t think anything else about taxes for the rest of the morning.

A few hours later Mr. Fleegan sends me a text saying he got his W2 and has worked the numbers and we only owe $56. And the state owes us nearly $200. So we actually get some money this year. First time in seven years!

HOLY MACKINOLY! WASN’T GOD’S IDEA WAY BETTER THAN MINE?

Yes. The answer is yes.

Thank you Jesus, for taking care of us!

 

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Grown Man, grow up.

Category: dribblings

The other day at work a man, who I don’t know, and who is old enough to be my dad (and me be the youngest daughter) came up to the desk and said to me, “Tell me something that will make me happy.”

I didn’t know what to say because why would I know what to say? Why would you say something crazy like that to a STRANGER?

In my state of flabbergastedness I guess I looked confused, because then the man said, “I just got done eating at The Sizzler and the cashier gave me the senior discount! ME! I’m not a senior citizen!”

Oh no! Poor old you! Someone thought you were what, two years older than you are? And then, out of respect, didn’t charge you as much for your meal? Aw, poor baby.

I did not say that, cos I didn’t feel like getting fired.

What I did was look the guy in the eye, did not smile (cos I’ve learned that if you smile out of politeness, some old men think you’re into them) gave a shrug and said, “Sir, just take the discount,” and went back to my work.

His reaction was akin to me having just kicked him in the batch. He screwed up his face, mouth agape and gasped. Like, how very dare I? I mean, he actually looked wounded. He… he gasped.

And look, I’m not out to destroy some strange man’s ego. But don’t come up to me at my job and ask me to cheer you up because what, you feel old? Would you have walked up to a man my age and asked him to “tell you something to make you happy?” No. I bet not. So why tag me to soothe your bruised ego? Cos I’m female? Young? Do I look like I’m into coddling old men? Is it my amazing short hair? My awesome boobs?

Are you this whiney with your wife? Your daughter?

Grow up, old man.

If I caught my dad seeking any kind of comfort from a young lady, I would shame him immediately. But my dad is a grown man and he treats people, even women, even young women, with respect.

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