Don't read this

In honor of surviving almost one more day of horribly painful tedium, I've proclaimed today Hodgepodge Wednesday. More accurately, I've been searching the internet for black people's addresses all day and along the way I caught up on some very unimportant news.
The first item is : Lance Bass is a homosexual. I'll be honest. My initial reaction was "Who is Lance Bass?" I know that he was in a boy band and he's not Justin Timberlake. Is he the one who wanted to be an astronaut? Possibly. Should I be surprised that a member of a so-called "boy band" likes the company of other boys? I don't think so. But more importantly, it brightened my day for just a few seconds.
The next item: Ken Jennings has a blog. I guess that wasn't the point of the story i read, but basically Ken Jennings, the mormon Jeopardy champ wrote something in a blog about Alex Trebek being a robot. When people got all up in arms, (and, presumably his grill) about it, he retracted the statements, apologized and then called Alex Trebek a cyborg. So there you have it - Mormons can be funny. The thing that I don't understand is why this made the news. Has no one ever poked fun at Alex Trebek and/or his moustache? Or are we just disppointed that 74 wins on Jeopardy does not forge a relationship that transcends robot-name-calling? Whatever. I'm blogging about a blog now so I have to go kill myself. Oh dear me, I'm just kidding. It's because i hate my job and life that I'm going to kill myself. HA! Gotcha!

Autistic? More like awesome-tistic (it rocks)

Today, while at work, of course, I've come to several conclusions: 1) I'm very hungry and my lunch is trapped in the conference room. 2) The saltine crackers from Wendy's that i found in the condiment drawer do not a satisfying lunch make. 3) I am autistic.
While doing a little research on this very current and therefore sexy disorder, I wondered if it is possble that I have gone undiagnosed for 22 years. Just take a look at this description of symptoms and think of me - the similarities are scary.

"Some children with autism develop troublesome fixations with specific objects, which can lead to unhealthy or dangerous behaviors. For example, one child insists on carrying feces from the bathroom into her classroom. Other behaviors are simply startling, humorous, or embarrassing to those around them. One girl, obsessed with digital watches, grabs the arms of strangers to look at their wrists.

For unexplained reasons, people with autism demand consistency in their environment. Many insist on eating the same foods, at the same time, sitting at precisely the same place at the table every day. They may get furious if a picture is tilted on the wall, or wildly upset if their toothbrush has been moved even slightly. A minor change in their routine, like taking a different route to school, may be tremendously upsetting. "

I admit, I am fascinated with feces (who isn't?), but I'm happy to report that I usually leave it be. On the other hand, I can't begin to tell you how much I demand consistency in my environment. There is only one stall that I can use in the resrtroom at work and when Pat does not close the cereal box by inserting the cardboard tab into the punch-out slot, I get very angry. I drink Green Tea Super-Antioxidant out of the same thermos every morning from exactly 8:30 to 9:30, filling the cup 1/3 of the way every ten minutes.

"In some people, the senses are even scrambled. One child gags when she feels a certain texture. A man with autism hears a sound when someone touches a point on his chin. Another experiences certain sounds as colors."

Sometimes I can't sleep because my clothes are making my skin crawl. And don't even get me started on the feeling of wooden spoons or popsicle sticks.
And if you need any more proof of my affliction, in sixth grade when I was in a summer production of School House Rock! the director told me "Stop rocking - you look like Rainman."
So there. Now I can join the host of trendy mentally diseased Americans.

Passion

I know it's a couple years late, but I want to talk a little about the Passion of the Christ. I'm sure it's passion-packed as all as crucifixions tend to be, but it is not, as my coworker insists, the same as a documentary.

I told Davina that I did not see the movie because for me, it lacked entertainment value. Somewhat upset, she said that documentaries are not often meant to entertain. I gently responded that the Passion is not technically a documentary. While she is aware that Mel Gibson made the film, she argued that while it is not exactly a documentary, it is still "documented fact," thus essentially a documentary. I don't really know what to say to this.

A Complaint

I'm here at the publishing company, and after putting stamps and address labels on about 600 envelopes, I decided to get a little snack. Working in an office adjacent to the kitchen is the most interesting part of this job, so I frequently wander off to peruse the communal food supply or wash the mugs that pile up in the sink.

The office food supply consists mostly of canned soda, crackers, baloney, wonder bread, and condiment packets from KFC. I took the liberty of opening a new and exciting box of something called "cheezit twisters". They're like cheezits, but in more the shape of a cheese puff. The box advertises "Two flavors! Big crunch!"

The crunch is, admittedly, pretty big, but as for the two flavors... Here's what they came up with: Cheddar and More Cheddar. Forgive me, Cheezit Twisters, but that sounds an awful lot like one flavor, regardless of how much cheddar there is. The other varieties are more distinct - there's Cool Ranch and Cheddar as well as Hot Wings and Cheesy Blue. It seems to me like the people at Cheezit wanted to break out of the cheese mold, but when they sat down at the flavor meeting, they could only come up with six, three of which are still cheddar.

I should probably get back to work, seeing as I can't afford to get fired from this job when I'm already on thin ice at the Tan Co. (For the record, apparently it's not Co. policy to let your boyfriend hang out while you're doing the ever so important job of tanning people, and let him act as a tanning apprentice. Whatever. If that's so wrong, I don't want to be right or tan.)