Scratchy Glitter

Observations for the easily irritated.

Tag: blogging

True Confessions + Some Actual Content

I’m going to tell you a secret. Actually, three secrets, but the other two will have to wait. Only then can we move on as a nation.

I’ve been trying to figure out if this blog is still viable now that I’m retired and no longer able to provide content that you couldn’t get anywhere else. Or that you weren’t getting anywhere else, more precisely. Which brings us to the secret, of sorts.

I never thought this blog would make me famous, since I’m not insane. However, I did think it might attract a wider readership of fellow 911 dispatchers. Toward that end, someone more publicity-minded than I am (well, that could be anyone, couldn’t it?) linked to this blog on a dispatch Facebook page so that others could view it. I received my highest readership that day, some 360 people. That was a big surprise to wake up to. The bigger surprise was that all those extra readers never came back. They checked it out once and decided it wasn’t for them.

I’ll discuss why that might be so in the next post, but in the meantime, if you noticed a point at which S.G. lost momentum, and I could no longer be counted on to post regularly, that would be why. Nick, if you call me a “poor thing” again, I will…well, I don’t know what I’ll do. You’ll have to check back with me later.

I remember when I couldn’t wait to get home and post all kinds of exciting stuff about my less-than-exciting life. I still get ideas, but I tend to lie down and wait until the urge passes. BUT NOW…

LYRICAL CRITICISM–BAD RELATIONSHIP IDEAS FROM POPULAR SONGS

–“Why you gotta be so cruel? I’m gonna marry you anyway.” Always a good idea.

–“Marry you no matter what you say.” I believe that’s illegal.

SEEN ON THE COVER OF COSMOPOLITAN MAGAZINE

“Sun’s out, buns out!” That’s illegal, too.

ADVENTURES IN THE RESTROOMS OF LIFE

I don’t read my daily horoscope, but mine must have said “Taureans will have trouble accessing public restrooms.”

At CVS, they’d put up the “No Public Restrooms” sign in front of, well, their public restrooms, as they do at unpredictable intervals. (Whenever they see me coming, for all I know.) It actually says, “No Public Restrooms–Please Don’t Ask,” which infringes on my freedom of speech.

At Walgreen’s–well, if you smell an almighty stench as soon as you turn into the hall leading to the restroom, you know not to go in there.

At Thornton’s, the women’s room had a sign saying “Closed for Cleaning.” Feeling a bit desperate by now, I slipped into the (empty) men’s room. When I came out, I saw a mother and daughter waiting for the Cleaning to come to an end. The little girl said, “Mommy, that lady came out of the men’s room!” I went and got my fountain drink (thus beginning the cycle all over again), glanced back, and saw mother and daughter emerging from the men’s room, looking a good deal more relaxed.

I PERFORM A HEROIC DEED IN THE RESTROOM

On another occasion at Walgreen’s (see, this is what happens when I post regularly, so be careful what you pray for) (if anyone was in fact praying for this), whoever keeps mischievously locking one of the stall doors from the inside (I’m guessing a poltergeist) had again done so. I thought, What this situation requires is someone able and willing to slither under the door and unlock it. So I did. It meant that my clothes acquired bathroom cooties, which makes them ritually impure until they’re laundered, but two-stall functionality has been restored. I expect a plaque on the stall door for my efforts.

I AM LESS HEROIC AT HOME

…having dropped a brand-new shoe in the toilet. So that shoe now has toilet cooties (even though the toilet was clean), which will not be removed until I get caught out in the rain wearing those shoes.

OK, I’m tired of this topic. Time to resume arguing with A Certain Person about whether Nick is adorable or not.

 

Advertisements

S.G. Is 3 Years Old, For What It’s Worth

BEFORE YOU I STAND, SINFUL AND SORROWFUL AND STUFF

It has been a month since my last confession, I mean post. I was attempting to have a period of, shall we say, discernment, because I discerned that I seemed to be repeating myself, and feared I was running out of stuff to write about. But how can this be, as long as there is…

CRISIS IN PROGRESS: THE PERFECT CRIME

Drug store clerk reporting a theft:

“The guy’s been in here before, and he always takes liquor bottles into the bathroom, and empties them into a container he brings with him. He’s thin, has a mullet and missing teeth, and always brings his wife who’s in a wheelchair, but I’m not sure she really needs it.” Could he be more perfectly-suited to his crime? All he needs is a tattoo that says “100% Honky” (there are actually several people in this town who have that tattoo, although they disagree on the spelling of “honky”) and a car with flames painted on the sides. We can only hope he has a meth lab waiting for him when he gets home.

Anyway, I am trying to find ways to make this blog a little less, well, impaired, but, y’know….Interestingly (or not–YOU BE THE JUDGE), no one’s dared to nag me for not posting this time around. Maybe you’ve abandoned hope, or perhaps you feared it would lead to whining.

WHINING

Everyone says, “Life isn’t fair,” but WHY ISN’T IT? We all agree that it ought to be, so what gives?

CRUEL AND UNUSUAL

There is software you can get (well, you can–I have a special old-folks computer {to go with my special old-folks phone} which keeps things uncomplicated so it’s not overwhelming, and I therefore can’t add software) which will delete your work if you don’t keep writing regularly. That’s supposed to be motivational. I guess it would be, in the same way that someone smacking you if you didn’t write would be–I’m not sure if I’d actually write more, or just curl up in a spiny ball of despair.

A WARNING I HAD TO GIVE ON THE AIR

“Subject has Asperger’s syndrome, cannot make eye contact, and may become violent when touched.” Since when is it a law that one has to make eye contact? Also, I think that not being touched by police sounds like a pretty good deal. Hey, I’m un-arrestable! It’s like another alert I had to give–“Subject is barred from jail property.” Score!!

 

 

Day 4: Processed Cheese Food Product

S.G.’S 4TH POST, 2/26/13: “Mildly Amusing Adventures: Everyone’s Traffic”

Everyone is traffic. I still say it so often, maybe I should trademark it.

Also, that post marked my discovery of the WordPress photo-illustration feature, which I greatly lament the loss of. It was fun to find a weird picture to illustrate each post. There must be some other way, obviously, since everyone other than me finds a way to illustrate their blog. I must find out.

CRISIS IN PROGRESS

“Caller believes someone came into his apartment, elevated his mattress, and stole his Velveeta cheese.”

THOUGHT FOR THE DAY

“I don’t know if I have polarities on my head or what.” — Rom

A Year of Scratchy Glitter

…well, not exactly. The title was inspired by the fact that this will be my 365th post. But, due to my outstanding lack of self-discipline, I don’t post every day. But WHAT IF I DID? Advice to writers always says to “Just write something, even if it’s not any good.” (“But they don’t say, ‘And then publish it,'” they mutter nervously.) And self-help advice in general always says, “Making a public commitment will help you stick with your resolution.” THEREFORE:

I HEREBY ANNOUNCE TO MY FANBASE:

–That I intend to post every day for at least the following year. Stop squirming.

FURTHERMORE:

–I have given myself the unenviable task of going back through all the previous posts, starting with SG’s inauspicious start back in the mists of February 2013 (I think. Maybe it was 2012.). And each day, I will present an excerpt, or at least a synopsis, of the post for that day. Yes, it’s called cannibalizing my material, and no power on earth can stop me from it.

BUT NOW FOR ACTUAL CONTENT

On Sunday, I tripped and fell on the way home from church, scraping my hand and knee, and sustaining a sizable black bruise on my breast. Also quite a bit of upper-arm pain, since I landed on my elbows. So I have been using the handicapped bus and bathroom facilities (“As you should have been doing all along,” Nick says–see, Nick, I write your retorts for you–you’re welcome), and appreciating the room to maneuver and relative lack of clambering they offer. So before you glare at someone who doesn’t look handicapped….

BUT WAIT! THERE’S MORE!

Last night I was home, after a busy day of fire dispatching dealing with a wind that was determined to kill us all. Since the rain had stopped, we opened windows on the non-wind side to take advantage of temporarily-mild temperatures. After Rom went to bed, it started to rain again, so I closed them. “Well, it isn’t raining against this side of the house,” I thought. “I wonder if it is on the other side? I think I hear it hitting the glass.” In the spirit of idle curiosity (since the window there hadn’t been opened), I went over to look. What I’d heard wasn’t water hitting the window, but the cheery crackle of the fire in the corner of the kitchen.

I did a mental double-take–“Oh, look, the kitchen’s on fire. THE KITCHEN’S ON FIRE!!!” Flames were–well, not shooting out of the back burner, exactly, but leaping enthusiastically.

I ran to wake Rom up, while wondering frantically what we had that we could throw on a grease fire. Rom ran in and half-smothered it with a potholder, half-blew it out. A great deal of smoke resulted, which kept Rom coughing for most of the night, and me wondering, Should we call an ambulance? COPD + smoke inhalation = not good, surely. But the situation was resolved eventually with a further opening of windows.

WHAT WE LEARN FROM THIS:

Your gas stove wants to kill you.

Is There Anybody Out There?

…just nod if you can hear me…from somewhere far away, a voice can be heard–“Enough obscure Pink Floyd references!” If I write and no one reads, does this blog exist? “Oh sure, blame the victim, you slacker,” they say, a bit more loudly. Ahem.

SLIGHTLY INCONVENIENCED

Since I have spent most of the last several days blowing my nose, I call to  mind an ancient Egyptian imprecation:

“Begone, thou cold, son of a cold, fall out on the floor and stink, stink, stink!”

I have the feeling that lost something in translation. Or maybe it gained something. At any rate, I have what I consider a Grade 2 cold: bad enough that I considered getting out of bed and trying to sleep sitting up on the couch, to make breathing easier, but mild enough that I fell asleep again before I could implement that plan. Or maybe I just passed out from lack of oxygen.

AN EXERCISE IN SISYPHEAN FUTILITY

–Walgreen’s employees removing Valentine candy from the shelves and replacing it with identical items in Easter packaging. But, as Sartre said (or maybe it was Camus–I get those guys confused, having dropped out of philosophy class before the time came to actually read them), maybe Sisyphus actually enjoyed going back up that hill.

INSERT HOLIDAY HERE

Brought to us by the ever-observant Rom: It’s been much remarked-upon that the word “Christmas” has been replaced in advertising, etc., by “holiday” (they’ll add “winter holiday” if cornered). But now they’ve started saying that bunnies, eggs, etc., are in celebration of “spring,” not “Easter.” Soon summer and fall will start demanding acknowledgement.

SOMETHING I WILL NOT BE TRYING AT HARDEE’S

Bacon Velveeta wrap. Are they trying to make me sick?

ANOTHER OBSCURE REFERENCE

I am using as many italics as Cosmopolitan magazine did when Helen Gurley Brown was editor. And I’m not even sure Google will help you much here.

KIDS SAY THE DARNDEST THINGS

A little girl, about 3 or 4 years old, struck up a conversation with the McDonald’s employee mopping the floor near her. “My Nana peed in that bathroom!” Encouraged by the positive response, she added, “And I pooped in that bathroom!” Will wonders never cease.

I Am Not a Lifestyle Blogger

…actually, these days, you’re hardly a blogger at all, they whisper. Or is it just the voices in my head? Which brings me to our next episode of…

THOSE WHO CAN, DO; THOSE WHO CAN’T, CRITICIZE

I heard someone on TV referred to as a “well-known lifestyle blogger.” Now someone can be well-known without me knowing about them. That’s a given. But what the hell is a “lifestyle blogger,” exactly? It sounds like just someone spewing forth their opinions,  like I do here. But considering our society has figured out where babies come from–baby daddies!, you don’t want to know my opinions about lifestyles.

WORLD LEADER PRETEND: DON’T ENCOURAGE ME

I was at work, whining about age discrimination, and 911SK said, “Hey, you’ve got more clout than anyone else in this place!” What an intoxicating idea! Hell, I can’t even get people to quit wearing flip-flops, which I inveighed against, oh, about 100 posts ago.

CRISIS IN PROGRESS: OVERHEARD ACROSS THE ROOM

“Ma’am, I understand you’re upset, but the law doesn’t care about that.”

DON’T ASK ME QUESTIONS

Someone asked me, “Why don’t you just get a scooter?” Because I’m a nest of phobias, that’s why! I’m afraid to drive a car–why would I want to go rocketing through the air at many miles an hour without a metal casing around me?

STUFF I SAW ON THE SIDES OF TRUCKS

“Mosely’s Remodling”–I know it has nothing to do with how well you can remodel, but I’d be more inclined to trust you if you could spell “remodeling.”

“What About Siding?” –Well, what about it? It’s boring, that’s what!

 

Crisis in Progress: We’re All Mad Here

This month’s job-training materials were, if I remember correctly (which I usually do, so settle down), What Makes a Good Employee, and Attitude and the Team. (For the latter, channeling Jon Stewart, I thought, please don’t say “there is no I in Team,” please don’t say “there is no I in Team,” and THEY DID. There is no rest for the wicked.)

I remember a cartoon in National Lampoon in which a guy is reading an article on what women want in a man. They want someone who is strong, yet sensitive, has a sense of humor but is serious, makes a lot of money but is not a workaholic, is bold in bed yet tender. After reading all these impossibly contradictory traits, the man reading the article says, “Find a guy like that and I’ll f*ck him!” I always think of that when I read descriptions of The Perfect 911 Dispatcher. Must be able to follow rules to the letter! But think independently! (That pesky independent thinking got me in trouble at least once. I resisted the Recommend Units key for years, finding it an insult to my intelligence, but They finally broke me.) Must show individual initiative! But be able to work as part of a team! (which *there is no I in*–must also be able to spell!) Must be able to multitask/prioritize at high speeds and under stressful situations but somehow refrain from turning to drugs! Must be able to work any and all hours and shifts but maintain a positive attitude! I think you see where I’m going with this: find a person like that and I’ll, well, you know. But only if they’re also good-looking.

By the way, the Perfect Employee is not the one who leaves a single ice cube in the bin, so the next person has to empty and refill all the trays. I’ve Got Mine, So Screw You is not a philosophy on which great civilizations are built. At least leave three or four! (And stop me before I italicize again!)

In other news, I have, in spite of myself, acquired a few followers outside of ye olde

Jon Stewart

Jon Stewart (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Facebook crowd. I welcome you to the FanBase, and warn you that I truly don’t know what I’m doing.

%d bloggers like this: