Sharing the World with the Undead

From a Facebook post:

First job – Waitress at Goodenough’s Ice Cream Parlor in the Tacoma Mall
Current job – Retired! Though I have been known to sub and tutor a bit…
Favorite food – Right now chilaquiles and BLTs
Favorite dog – Ginger the Wheaten Terrier
Favorite footwear – Birkenstocks
Favorite Candy – Toffee and combinations of chocolate, nut and caramel
Favorite Ice Cream – Graeter’s Brown Butter Bourbon Pecan
Your Vehicle color – Turquoise. I object to all this vehicular neutrality.
Favorite Holiday – Christmas
Night owl or early bird – Varies
Favorite day of the week- The one when I get the most sleep
Tattoos – Never seem to get around to it
Like to cook – In tiny spurts, especially dessert and chilaquiles
Can you drive a stick shift – It’s been so long I am not sure.
Favorite color – Purple with some shades of blue in close competition
Do you like vegetables – As long as I don’t have to spend much time chopping and preparing them, yes
Do you wear glasses – Since I was a mere sprite of thirteen although I do not technically need them to drive
Favorite season – Fall

Zombie phrase for the day: The Burger King Impossible Burger is a fraud! Duuhhh boohhhgoohh ghheeee bahduhhbuhh buhhhguhhhzzz vvwahhh!

Small marketing note: I go to Burger King, decide the Impossible Burger looks like a bit more money than I choose to spend, and ask for a veggie burger. They are out. This leads to the purchase of a tasty Jr. Whopper with cheese. The Impossible burger got me to turn left into Burger King, though.

Larger note: Cars today are boring. Why did we all sign off on these neutral-colored boxes? Whether obnoxiously long or not, the modern vehicle simply lacks pizzazz.

Bored Young Girl Missing Gym

Broken young humans
Wear boots and casts to walk —
Humans break easy.

End November 2017

Ms. Turner sitting
Calf and thigh! And foot of course.
My foot broke itself!

Biojar Tip: You think you can probably make the jump? Don’t try until the zombie hordes are running right alongside you. That failed probably can last for weeks or even longer. Boredom’s bad and pain is worse.

Zombie phrase for the day: I miss pedicures. Ahhhh biihhhzzz behhhddihhhgyurrrhhh.

Quick haiku that came from another nonsense email–

If you do not trust
Random safflower capsules
to shrink you — wisdom!

Nutrisystem, Noom, Dr. Oz, the Apple Cider Diet, Weight Watchers, the South Beach Diet, the Flat Belly Diet, the Keto Diet, the Dukan Diet, or just old fashioned Slim-fast, diets seem to be everywhere. Jenny Craig’s even still out there. I recommend avoiding ketosis and trickery to lose weight, but some of these diets work perfectly well. Again and again and again, they work.

I thought I’d post a truth we all know in our bones: Magic may be real, but magic diets are purest fantasy. Anyone who promises painless, effortless weight loss is lying. And who knows what’s in those weird, yellow capsules?

I will recommend phone apps. “Lose It!” does work. “MyPlate” is another winner. Check out the apps before you commit, though, because some work better with your Fitbit or Apple Watch than others.

Biojar observation for today: Magic herbs should only be used by people who were at the tip-top of their potions class. Harry Potter’s Devil’s Snare, Bubotuber, and Snargaluff are almost certainly at least as effective as safflower capsules, and by virtue of not existing are much cheaper too. Want a magic weight loss tool? I recommend walking while carrying a heavy latte to use as a weight. You can make the latte skim or almond milk if you choose, provided those choices don’t take your cup too far down any personal deliciousness scale.

Zombie phrase for the day: I want to find the chicken farm. Ahhhhh waahhhdddd aydddduhhh dihhguhhn ahhrrrbbb.

Mommy wears a black, Invader Zim t-shirt and pale-blue, snowflake pajama pants. She has a big cup of coffee in a green Yoda cup beside her as she sits barefoot on a tall, oak chair at the kitchen counter. Beside her, Shasta twirls her tail. An invisible slug about the size of a medium dog, Shasta is wearing a shiny silver, mylar cloak, its extra “fabric” floating around her blobby brown body. Her steampunk goggles with their many copper gears match the tiny black bowler hat resting between her antennae, the hatband decorated with copper keys and gears. Shasta is resting on a soft, fuzzy, chartreuse flying carpet about three feet square. For the moment, the carpet rests on the green, brown and black granite countertop a few feet away from the Yoda cup.

Mommy: Those Democratic debates were scary. The democrats are eating each other up, Shasta. They are acting more like starving zombies than presidential hopefuls.

Shasta: You always said politics leads to the dark side, mommy.

Mommy: Yes, but I want a democratic hopeful who has not been torn to shreds by his alleged teammates. I want a candidate without chunks torn out of him.

Shasta: (Chewing a blade of grass thoughtfully.) Do zombies eat each other? Slugs don’t. Even people mostly don’t. And all zombies are starving, mommy. I mean, that’s just zombies. Dogs chase balls, cats do whatever they want, and zombies ravage the countryside. That’s how it works.

Mommy: Shasta…

(Shasta interrupts. She is on a roll.) We all have to eat, and we do not all have taste. I mean, dogs even eat cat poop, garnished with kitty litter. The evidence is in the water bowl, not to mention that big blast of dog breath. Ginger the Puppy Dog Turner knows not to eat the poop while people are watching, but that litter in the water bowl is a dead giveaway. And dogs are more discriminating than zombies. So I guess we have to expect zombies to eat each other. And maybe democrats, too. Democrats eat each other, I mean, not get eaten by zombies. I am not sure how to count democrat zombies who are eaten by zombies.

Mommy: (Big sigh.) Oddly enough, I think maybe I followed that. Anyway I am definitely concerned. What will happen if Biden wins the nomination after too many also-rans make him eat his too-many 40-year-old words? By the time the hopefuls are done dredging up Joe’s less stellar moments, will African-Americans go to the polls in bad weather? I’m sure Donald is loving this stuff.

Shasta: That poor people/white people gaffe was pretty silly mommy. Joe even screwed up his own contact information for his campaign’s text message service.

“If you agree with me, go to Joe 3-0-3-3-0, thank you very much,” he said.

Well – duh, mommy, you and me, we missed our chance. Somebody bought “joe30330.com” right away and the site is sending everybody to https://joshforamerica.com/, which is pretty funny.* If slugs could vote, I’d vote for Josh. I love his “No Homework in College” platform.

Mommy: Yeah, we should have grabbed that URL. And I like Josh too, but I am pretty sure he is too young. You have to be at least 35 years old.

Shasta: (Sounding oddly enthusiastic) Joe also messed up by arguing that the United States cannot handle another “eight years” of a Trump presidency. Unless he transported himself through time like my favorite action star of all time, Jean Claude Van Damme – then Donald only has five years max. Unless maybe Trump is just starting his presidency where Joe-Two came from. That would explain it if eight Trump-years are left in his universe.

Mommy: (Smiling) You can use time travel to explain damn near anything.

Shasta: How old is Jean Claude, Mommy?

Mommy: Unlike Josh, he’s plenty old enough but he was born in Brussels, Belgium. It’s a no-go, dear. You have to be born here.

Shasta: Too bad. All you have to do is watch Jean Claude do the splits on the kitchen counter to know he could run the country.

Mommy: (Pats Shasta’s head.) It would be fun to see if any of the hopefuls could handle a kitchen counter scenario. But Jean-Claude and the Terminator are out of the race, sweetie.

In fairness to Joe, I will say that if I was running around like he was, answering nonstop questions all the time, I might blow it too. I could easily forget my new twitter address or some other techy detail. I might stumble over my new, text message number. I only know how those numbers work because that’s the way to find out the price of houses for sale in my neighborhood. Too bad for Joe, though, he seems to be oblivious to housing prices.

He’s an old guy, Shasta. I bet his remote flummoxes him, like it does grandpa. Inputs? Streaming? Closed captioning? Tough stuff for the old guys, these remotes with thirty-some buttons. I only understand the remotes because I watch way too much TV.

Shasta: You wouldn’t seem that confused mommy.

Mommy: (Thoughtfully) Maybe not. Still, how many questions do you think that guy gets asked in one day? He cannot keep being such a gaffe machine, though. I loved that line where he said, “But my God, what a wonderful thing compared to a guy who can’t tell the truth!” Well, yes, but between confused and duplicitous, there’s a lot of territory for exploration.

Here’s what I think: I think we should scrap the debates. Give each of these candidates an hour and a half to explain themselves instead. The debates are for CNN’s benefit, not ours. They resemble some cooking show where the chefs get 10 minutes to bake and ice a crème-stuffed cupcake. I’d say lets pass the debates to a less self-aggrandizing network, and just let these potential candidates talk and tell us what they plan to do. We would be so much better off.

* Readers, I recommend a quick visit to joe30330.com 🙂

_____________________________________________________________________________
Air conditioning hums away
Doors divide muggy from cool
I slap mosquitoes

Suddenly hot sun
Covers my warming body
Now I am sleepy
_____________________________________________________________________________
Zombie phrase for the day: Nail polish no taste good. Nayyyhhh bblihhhhjh nuhhh dayyzza goooo.

For some of us, August becomes a call to finish projects, prepare for school, or become otherwise productive with our longer days. That’s part of the rhythm of life. Those school supplies must be purchased. But winter is coming, with or without white walkers. Why do today what you can do in January? Why not go to the pool instead? Or take your Kindle into the backyard with an iced latte or cold soda?

Ben Franklin was wise, but that “Don’t put off until tomorrow what you can do today?” No. Simply no. Too many of us are already working too hard — slog, slog, slogging our way through mud of our own making.

What’s winter for, anyway? I recommend putting off a few projects for later, activities to intersperse with binge watching Netflix and bitching about the weather. Ice cream bars and art fairs ought to be on the menu now.

I just finished a Reader’s Digest article on plane travel. I mean, why not? I’ve been sick. Anything had to be better than “Unique Green Drink Is Turning Seniors into ‘Young Bucks'” or Anna Kendrick’s kidney stones. I admit I was vaguely interested in how much NFL cheerleaders make, despite the fact that my cheerleading bird has flown into extinction. I am almost certain the NFL will not be calling, although I should note that 97-year-old Iris Apfel has apparently landed a modeling contract. Dare to dream, I say. Why not me, NFL? But getting back on track, I am practiced at comfortably defying death in long, pressurized metal tubes. So here are Jocelyn’s observations and recommendations for plane travel.
Note the outer layer of a black shawl which can double as a blanket.

1) You care what people think? Dress like you are going to yoga class. No complicated shoes unless you are TSA pre-approved, have CLEAR or know some other way to cut the line.

2) You don’t care what people think? Go with Walmart sweats. If you are worried about the possible too-hot plane, put a t-shirt below. You can always whip off that sweatshirt. More expensive sweatshirts are allowed, but keep in mind that you may end up wearing Little Jimmie’s Coke or the sandwich mom packed him for lunch. It’s an AIRPLANE. It’s an AIRPORT. Ooh, yuck, gross. You want wearable clothes that you will not miss if their next destination is a trash can.

3) Do you absolutely need that carry-on? Then consider paying the stupid fee for the premium seat that allows you early boarding, especially if you must make a connecting flight. Most of the time, though, you will get your carry-on sandwiched in there somewhere. Tip for small women: It doesn’t hurt to take a few moments to assess the situation as you attempt to stow that carry-on. Then go from a seat arm, to a seat back, to the actual storage space. Don’t rush. The odds are good some helpful guy will rescue you. They almost always rescue me. Maybe its because I make it look like I am trying to climb Everest and am doubtful of my oxygen supply.

(My Star Wars backpack is a bit big but just fits my laptop and can hold enough clothing and sundries for a long week-end.)

4) Your bag for under the seat in front of you? First rule: Washable, washable, washable. I like dark Kipling backpacks. Second rule: Smaller is better. The Digest article recommends stowing all your stuff overhead. That’s a recipe for boredom and discomfort in my book. You don’t want to open an overhead compartment, pull down a carry-on, and possibly expose your undergarments to the world. You won’t. So you won’t have your headphones or something else you want. If you must do the one bag in the bin, you should pack an over the shoulder bag inside your larger carry-on with headphones, chargers, medication, snack, wallet and extra socks. If you drink a lot of water or carry larger snacks, you may have to put your second bag on the floor, Again, ooh, yuck, gross. But persons with normal hips barely fit in those seats so there’s not much else to do. Keep in mind, smaller bag = more legroom. If you can shrink Bag Two down far enough, the bag may fit in your lap while the tray table still works.

5) Alaska Airlines makes a great fruit and cheese plate. You may have airline favorites. But a water bottle and a Kind bar or pastry can simplify life on longer flights. Especially if you sit in back, flight attendants may run out of those cheese plates. Pastries tend to get squished, but a compacted chocolate croissant tastes fine. One plan: Buy a bag of chocolate-covered nuts before you board. Those nuts are filling. If you never eat them, they make great presents.

6) Hand sanitizer hanging from your bag is a must. Hang a bottle from both bags. You can hang it after you go through security. The inner bag should have a little tube of lotion, too.

7) Ear plugs are cheaper than noise cancelling headphones. (Plane flights can be hard on electronics and I recommend stashing larger devices, especially since electronics are hard to clean.) The right meditation music will blend right in with that plane noise, rain falling gently into the waterfall pool on top of the retrorockets. (Are you still reading?)

8) Is Little Jimmy bouncing off the walls or seatback right next to you? Or making a mess just across the aisle, next to his loudly wailing sister? Again, I recommend earplugs. I also recommend being kind. I guarantee you, little Jimmie’s mom wants off that plane as badly as you do. Her anguish is broadcasting loud and clear to all the telepaths in that plane. But almost nobody can saddle up the horses and ride to grandma’s house today, not in the few vacation days most people are allowed. That plane’s a big bus in the sky, the only mass transit that stops near grandma’s house. If you want to be crazy proactive, you might pack a small Dollar Store coloring book and some crayons. Jimmie’s mom should have done this — but don’t tell me you never had to go to Walmart because you forgot your charger or dental floss.

9) The monster scarf that can double as a shawl or blanket is a sound idea. You should definitely try for a scarf/pseudoblankie that is washable. Cloaks work well, too. The downside to cloaks lies in laundering; many are dry clean only. Cloaks can also make you look like an Obi-Wan Kenobi wannabe. On the other hand, they make unbeatable blankets.

10) The Reader’s Digest article recommends taking off your shoes and just wearing socks. Ummm — well, I can see trying this, although I’d slip my shoes back on before I walked the aisles. I’d also have a few plastic bags with me to store things like those socks for later when I can get my hands on the bleach. You might pick older socks and then just toss them in the garbage in the restroom at the end of the flight.

11) Stuck in the middle seat? Start revisiting that seat a few weeks before your flight. At some point, the airline should free up new seats. If it’s looking grim, consider paying for a premium seat. You’d spend $40 for a delicious dinner, yes? Unless doing a performance art version of life squeezed into a sardine can appeals to you, I suggest throwing a few more dollars at the airline to get a window view or easy access to the aisle. If you know you’ll be in the long, metal tube for four hours or more, I strongly recommend making cost only one factor in whatever flight you choose. Oh, and keep connecting flights in mind. In a time crunch, you might be better off in a middle seat in row 12 instead of the aisle or window seat in row 27.

12) I suggest planning to be at the airport at least 2 hours early. This depends on the airport, but major hubs often have excellent food and shopping. SeaTac Airport remains marvelous to wander, despite the construction, with the Fireworks store is a real favorite of mine. A Dilettante latte with a cup of Anthony’s clam chowder always improves my day. More importantly, on those rare occasions when I have found airports on Red Alert with scary lines snaking down the corridors, extra time has kept my tension level from wrecking the day. It’s easy to start thinking of airports as another ordeal to survive, rather than waystations with good coffee and adventures in book shopping. Getting to the airport early gives you a better chance to appreciate air travel’s charms — before you start to worry about the guy in the cheap fur suit walking around on the wing of your plane.

*Inspiration found at https://www.rd.com/advice/travel/how-to-be-comfortable-on-a-plane/

Here’s the thing: Those guys in the original Predator should have gotten to the chopper sooner. The whole elite military team except for Arnold Schwarzenegger becomes alien catnip mice, destined to be torn apart by Nuclear Explosion Critter. We might argue that the Big Picture requires Billy, Blain, Mac, Poncho, and Hawkins to sacrifice themselves so Major Dutch can defeat his self-detonating foe: The mushroom cloud climbs, but the girl is rescued, and we could all do worse.

But let’s not count this as a win. Billy, Blain, Mac, Poncho, and Hawkins most definitely did not win. And those predators keep coming.

What’s the life lesson here? In Schwarzenegger speech, get to the choppa! Not tonight, not tomorrow or next week. Get to the chopper now. Don’t assume you have plenty of time to explore the jungle while trying to find whatever space flotsam you think might have landed. Space flotsam can be dangerous.

We resolve each year
To produce more and weigh less
Sometimes we succeed.

I resolve to watch
Oodles of television
In my pajamas.

Do you have fannish friends? Wearers of Harry Potter scarves, collectors of Batman statues, or fans of Grand Moff Tarkin who drink out of Star Wars mugs? I’d like to recommend Alien Entertainment, a store in a little slice of Lombard, Illinois. In true Twilight Zone fashion, Alien Entertainment is located on Main Street. The owners never asked me to say a word about them. But I did my annual pilgrimage to Lombard yesterday, part of ongoing efforts to support small, independently-owned businesses.

I’ve missed Hanukkah but maybe I can still reach a few desperate Christmas shoppers. The mall and internet provide quick results for those of us who put things off to the last minute. But local bookstores and toy stores need us so much more than Jeff Bezos and Amazon do. While bookstores are not quite extinct, independents should be cherished like white tigers. Reader, are you still lucky enough to be able to walk into your local Book Bin or Timeless Toys? The loss of a bookstore or toy store leaves a hole in the heart of a town. If we don’t nurture and care for our independents, Amazon Prime free shipping may kill America’s little shops — and those shops are often the last remaining forces keeping our towns from merging into one giant, chain megalopolis.

Please, readers, where you can over the next few weeks, try to shop small.