Another Two Minutes Wasted You can thank me later. There's nothing here that you really need to know. Nothing that will impress strangers at parties, nothing that will help you answer that million dollar game show question. Even still, it sure beats doing something.
The down side to working in a waist-high-cubicle village is that you overhear everyone's conversations. The up side, of course, is that you overhear everyone's conversations.
Now is when I should probably offer an apology to my not-on-vacation colleagues who were compelled to overhear an...um...non-work-related conversation about...
[At this time I'd like to warn you that the following entry may not be appropriate first thing in the morning, or at any time of day for those averse to the word 'urine']
I guess he figured he'd share the info seeing as I had a nearly empty can of Celsius in my hand. I (perhaps naively) didn't think Celsius was an energy drink (I'd had a bad Monster experience not too long ago and try to steer clear of the stuff. But I'll keep my coffee).
So I turned the Celsius can in my hand to glance and the ingredients. Sure enough, there it was: taurine.
The saliva in my mouth suddenly felt very thick. I had the urge to spit into the garbage can, though I didn't. I got a drink of water.
The conversation then degenerated further into a discussion of the specific ingredients of the hormone-replacement therapy drug Premarin, but I won't get into that.
But I think it's safe to say that people wearing said bracelets are essentially saying: "I live life to the fullest" and also: "I support the annihilation of cancer."
A noble perspective and a noble cause, for sure.
But a friend of mine believes they're indicative of a whole lot more. She recently rehashed a story about a guy her friend had attempted to set her up with. His choice of accessory put the kibosh on any potential romance.
Her: "He was attractive, had a good job, but [dun dun dun dun] he was wearing a 'Livestrong' bracelet."
Me: "...and...?"
Her: "Well you know what that means. He's probably one of those super-dedicated people -- you know, who's serious about his job and exercises all the time."
Oh yeah, that stinks. Stay away from those good-looking, physically fit, happily employed guys. Consider this a disaster averted.
Some commenters weren't shy about giving me a virtual tounge lashing about the cat feeding story yesterday.
The anger! The vehemence! What did it all mean?
In a state of utter distress I wept all the way home. The stray cat (who I now call "Deli") overheard my crying and came over to me.
"Woman Who Gives Me Turkey," she asked, "Why do you weep?"
"I shared the story of how we met [sob, sob] and nobody liked it."
"You shared that story? Really? It isn't all that interesting." [sobbing intesifies] "Yes, you've committed the cardinal sin: making light of cats. It's second only to making jokes about global warming. From this error, some never recover."
Yes, cats again. I'm sorry, but it's hard to not talk about the animals when they're taking over the state -- or your lawn.
This guy in Bangor is peeved that his neighbor's roaming cats have turned his lawn into their private litter box.
"They crap all over my property," he told the Bangor Daily News. He also noted that "There’s nothing to prevent them from climbing inside his Jeep and shredding the cushions."
Well, there is something. It's called a top.
At any rate, he's resolving the issue with a baited live-capture trap.
And I don't blame him, after hearing about the Feline of Death yesterday. It's a get-the-before-they-get-you situation.
I've had my own feline run-ins -- the most recent of which involved a stray, a porch and a handful of sliced deli turkey.
I'd never classify myself as a cat lover -- or even and cat liker -- or even anyone who pays attention whatsoever to cats. But this damn thing just kept wandering onto my porch, meowing and looking desperate and, I admit it, I fell for it like the sucker it knew I was.
So I gave it some sliced deli turkey.
I hadn't a clue what you're supposed to give a cat, but the thing looked starved and it's pretty much all I had in the house that I was willing to part with (cat won't get near my Tyson buffalo-style popcorn chicken) and whether deli turkey is a good idea or not I didn't know.
I know now, it's a bad, bad idea. The thing kept coming back. Early. And it meowed. Loudly.
So I recommend the gentleman in Bangor ditch the trap in his yard and instead dump a pile of deli turkey in his neighbors driveway.
If a friend of yours up and died within four hours of hanging out with you, your neighbors would likely think nothing of it - pass it off as an unfortunate reality.
If 25 friends - on separate occasions - up and died within four hours of you showing up...well, you'd be a lot less popular. And you might be in prison.
Unless, of course, you were a cat. Then you'd be heralded as an end-of-life companion, a phenomenon, and doctors would write about you in the New England Journal of Medicine.
"Uncanny knack" doesn't seem to relay the gravity of this cat's "talents" - or the fact that this talent makes Oscar the most friendless living creature in New England. Sure, being able to predict death makes you a cool topic of conversation, but it won't get you invited to dinner parties, weddings or backyard keggers. Strike that, you probably would be invited to a kegger.
Poor Oscar. I mean, we've all been screamed out of a nursing home room once or twice, but once you agree to give grandma her teeth back she usually lets you back in.
But making chit-chat with the death cat? I don't think so.
Before I knew what My Alli was (the new over-the-counter weight loss product) a cashier caught me eyeballing a box proped near the register.
Cashier: "Oh no. You don't want that. It's only for people who are REALLY overweight."
This is America, I thought. Every woman thinks she's overweight.
Cashier: "I read the side effects. It gives you..." Here she gestures toward the seat of her pants, "...uncontrollable diarrhea. Like, you gas and stuff comes out."
What?! That's a foul reality. But people will go to extreme lengths to drop a few pounds (well, aside from walking 30 minutes a day).
Sure enough, I checked the My Alli side effects and they note, "You may feel an urgent need to go to the bathroom...it's probably a smart idea to wear dark pants, and bring a change of clothes with you to work."
Smarter still, don't take pills that make you soil yourself at the office.
Restless Leg Syndrome Gone, and So Are Your Savings
Not a day after the My Alli discovery, I saw another commercial about restless leg syndrome (RLS). This one, however, noted a newly discovered side effect: compulsive gambling.
I had to Google it. A Mayo Clinic study found a link between an RLS drug and compulsive gambling by people who previously didn't have a gambling problem.
Sounds backwards - you'd think people with RLS would pick up the habit prior to medication in order to give themselves something to do while they wait for their legs to relax. If I couldn't sleep or relax for days in a row I might pick up (a few more) bad habits.
Sure you might lose your savings, your job and your family to addition, but dang your legs feel good.
Think I'm kidding? Here's the Cliff's Notes version of the review:
"Something about the expanse outside that window emboldened me with irrational optimism."
"Or did my jolly mood arise from my friend's monumental bowl of bocconcini, bite-size balls of fresh mozzarella...? Only the appetite of a teenager could face that down, however much caprese pleases."
"...a smooth, fruity red with medium body, was a supple companion for the herbed cheese and sea-salted crackers..."
Supple? Wasn't that term coined by Nora Roberts to describe any and all parts of the female anatomy? I can't even say it without giggling a little.
Supple. He he.
Back to the review:
"...savory pork interrupted my meal's progress with bursts of savory fatness."
Bursts of savory fatness. What does that even mean?
Moreover, what is "rumpeltithumps"?
"Every night folks ask for the word to be repeated: rumpeltithumps, mashed potato mixed with cooked cabbage and topped with melted cheddar cheese."
Rumpletithumps?
Okay, Okay. I admit it. My mind is in the gutter. Isn't yours?
Work is work, after all and no matter how much I heart my job (I do) I still hit a productivity wall now and then. Symptoms include the inability to read work-related e-mails and the corresponding temptation to make the inbox disappear via the "Select all, delete" method.
The attempt to make random, distracting conversation with coworkers can also be seen, as well as the sudden need to rearrange office suppplies.
But of all the possible mindless activities, nothing compares to the joy and calm that scanning our Seen photo galleries brings. Each click unveils another surprise. For example:
Admit it, you've had that moment. That devastating moment when a hot [insert appropriate noun here] speaks to you and says something entirely mundane like, "Good morning" and you - shocked - start to panic and can't think of anything worthwhile to reply back but you know this is huge and you must say something back so you stutter a few seconds and say..."G-G-Glued morning."
Glued morning? What a bust.
But harp not on the failure, because Craigslist's missed connections forum is offering second chances.
The posts are a riot - it reminds me of reading my friends diaries. Only now I don't have to make copies of the pages to spread around school - I can just forward a link.
Or this post, from a guy who struck up a conversation with a girl peeing in an Alley. That's a story for the grandkids.
It's love in the 21st century - and we get to watch it unfold.
In that vein, here's a (partially made up) love connection re-enactment based on the true love story behind this posting: You work at key in monument square.
Lonelyguy34 [talking to himself]: When! Oh, when will I find love? The tragedy, the loneliness! I can do nothing but pass the time reading random postings on Craigslist.
Posting: you work at the key bank in monument square...
Lonelyguy34: What's this? I work at Key Bank.
Posting: you're tall and incredibly good looking...
Lonelyguy34: I'm tallish and good looking-ish
Posting: and i seem to run into you everywhere- including random chinese food places on exchange street....
Lonelyguy34: OMG! I hang out at Chinese food places on Exchange all the time! It must be my soul mate - the woman I've been obsessed with for months! Finally! I've been waiting for this moment my entire life!
Posting: i'm unavailable but if i wasn't i think i'd certainly ask you out!
Speeding, evading police and other things not to do while naked
The Lewiston Sun Journal ran a story yesterday about a naked woman who was pulled over for speeding. She and a (clothed) male passenger claimed they had been in the woods and her clothes washed away in a stream. Riiiiiiight.
But it doesn't end there. Woman tells the officer she has to pee. Officer says "follow my vehicle." Instead, male passenger gets behind the wheel and blows past the officer, weaves into oncoming traffic and eventually comes to a stop before running over "stop sticks."
Shockingly, both the naked woman and her friend had apparently been drinking. Never saw that coming.
Admittedly, it's a fuzzy line that differentiates when it is and when it isn't OK to be naked. I think we've all felt the embarrassment of walking into, say, a grocery store and realizing, oops, no one else is naked.
So here are a few nudity guidelines. Follow them if you wish. Or don't.
When it is and isn't OK to be naked:
In the bathroom...
...taking a shower: OK
...passed out on the floor at Bull Fenney's: Not OK
In the mall...
...in the dressing room: OK
...in the shoe department: Not OK
In the kitchen...
...toasting bread: OK
...deep frying anything: Not OK
Showing up at the neighbors
...if they're nudists: OK
...any other time: Not OK
Swimming...
...in a private pool: OK
...at Fun Town/Splash Town USA at noon on a Saturday: Not OK
Jumping...
...into bed: OK
...rope: Not OK
Posing...
...for an art class: OK
...in front of a web cam sent to you in the mail by a new "friend" you met online: Not OK
You just never know how people are going to react when they find a severed human hand.
You would think, at the very least, that such a discovery would elicit mild shock, understandable curiosity and pinch of repose.
Not quite the case for some folks in Waldoboro.
Had you not known what they were discussing, you might think they were referring to a pair of 18th century nail clippers, not a partially decomposed, formerly attached, formerly living piece of a person.
The Bangor Daily News reported the story last Friday. Read the story, then answer the following question:
The most disturbing aspect of this story is:
A. The suggestion that the hand was a sort of family heirloom.
B. The implication that the story might strike some people as humorous and lighten their day.
C. The fact that authorities need to clarify that it is "illegal to possess such a body part."
D. The description of a decomposing hand as "beef jerky."
E. Discovering that a previous homeowner knew about the hand, and liked it.
F. All of the above.
I vote “E.” Finding the story amusing isn’t awful. But knowing there’s a severed hand in your house and liking it? Not so much.
You'd think it'd be relaxing - reclining in the sand, listening to the methodic rumble of the waves. Maybe knocking down another couple of pages from that 99 cent novel you've been reading for the past two years.
Then a shout distracts you from your book/gossip magazine/nap and you look up to find yourself uncomfortably close to a heavy-set Canadian in an ultra-thin Speedo.
I imagine hikers who come across a bear in the woods experience the same mixed feelings of distress and amazement as such a beach vision incites: You spot the meandering creature and hold deathly still - not even breathing - for fear you may catch its attention. You're frightened, to be sure, but can't get yourself to stop looking. Finally, when it has moved far enough away - is just a speck in the distance - you turn to your cohorts and exclaim, "Did you SEE that?"
But sometimes you meet the eyes of something much less frightening. Sometimes, when you're innocently scanning the beach, you may see that there's a fellow watching you. He's smiling, so you smile back, and then you get shy and look away. But inevitably you look again and he's still staring and smiling. So you go over and introduce yourself and he doesn't say anything. He's shy, too, you think, which is, like, so adorable.
So you talk to him awhile and he's such a good listener and he never interrupts and you think, "This guy is so perfect!" You find a pen somewhere and write your number on his arm and say, "Call me" or something lame like that and when you get back to your spot on the beach you take a picture with your camera phone so you can show your friends this awesome guy you just met who might actually be "The One."
Not that my expectations of the edible provisions at Rite-Aid are that high to begin with. But chocolate chip-flavored cookies?
I'm no Chef Ramsay, but even I can bake out a dozen of half-way decent chocolate chip cookies. What's the draw with these things? Do they promise to get me back into my skinny pants in one week? Will I be able to focus better at work? Can I pull an all-nighter without that shaky feeling?
No? Then just give me some real dang chocolate chip cookies!
IN WATERVILLE, Monday at 8:57 p.m., the manager at Best Western Inn on Upper Main Street reported a large group of teenagers rented four rooms and were running through the halls, yelling and screaming. A fight occurred in one of the rooms, which prompted several complaints from hotel guests, the manager reported.
An officer met with a couple of the teens in the lobby and they escorted him to the leader of their church youth group, who is a pastor, according to the report. The pastor said the youth group was riding motorcycles from Saugus, Mass. to Nova Scotia and were on their way back to Massachusetts and had stopped at Best Western for the night. In the group was a 14-year-old who has attention deficit disorder, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, bi-polar disorder and other mental health issues and he did not get his medications on time and threw a bucket of ice across the hotel room, the pastor said. The boy was restrained by several other members of the group, the pastor reported.
The hotel manager requested the teens be removed from the hotel because of complaints by hotel guests. The group was refunded its money and left the hotel cooperatively, according to the report.
Luck vs. forethought. Or, what if you have neither?
There's a mention in today's Morning Sentinel police logs of a young fellow from Millinocket who's been arrested for allegedly burglarizing a couple of convenience stores.
Alright - no big news there. Really, isn't that why convenience stores exist? To hang around in the neighborhood (sell stuff, whatever) until one of us needs cash for drugs, booze, pier fries or new pants?
But this Millinocket guy - he's a thinker. He's not wasting his time with a few 20-dollar-bills from the register, or even the few grand he could shake from the ATM (if you haven't seen video of people chaining ATMs to their trucks and literally dragging the machines down the street, you're missing out).
He's taking this huge chance with his liberty to take a huge chance on the lottery.
That's right:
Nick Kessel, 23, is accused of burglarizing the Clinton Variety Store and the Clinton Country Market late Sunday or early Monday, according to Kennebec County Sheriff Randall Liberty. A Kennebec County deputy arrested Kessel around 2 a.m. Monday. Kessel was found with multiple lottery tickets, Liberty said.
Really? Lottery tickets?
Call me crazy, but I'd only risk jail time for some in-hand cash.
While their message may or may not be of any interest to you, the photos should be.
Sure, anti-war protesting is seriousness business - but even the most dedicated of demonstrators needs to relax, take a break and enjoy a good spanking from Lady Liberty.
Randolph
SATURDAY
At 7:43 p.m., a Windsor Street caller reported getting harassing phone calls.
What I imagine really happened:
The police took note of the complaint and, after asking the caller to please calm down, terminated the call.
The caller called back, frustrated by the annoying phone calls, to reiterate to police what a nuisance the calls were.
A half-hour later, the caller phoned again and was told that the complaint had been recorded and to kindly not call again.
At midnight the caller phoned again and began breathing heavily into the phone.
At 1:00 a.m. the caller begged officers to help stop the harassing phone calls the caller was receiving, saying, "Do you know how frustrating it is to be constantly bothered by some lunatic?" Police officers "accidentally" hung up on her.
The caller phoned again at 1:35 a.m. After several minutes of silence the caller exclaimed, "I won't be ignored!" and asked the officer on the phone if he had any children - and if so, did they own any rabbits.
At 2:32 a.m. the caller phoned police in hysterics and requested police presence for fear that the person making the disturbing phone calls might harm the caller.
Police Officer "Smith" was dispatched to the caller's home.
In an unrelated story, Police Officer "Smith" has been arrested for locking an elderly Randolph woman in her basement.
![livestrong[1].jpg](http://www.mainetoday.com/shannon/photos/livestrong[1].jpg)
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