Do not make Miss Information stop this car!
Miss Information is going on a road trip--a good old driving vacation. She loves the driving part but regrettably she sucks at the "vacation" bit. Why anyone would stop the car unless the little "running out of gas" light comes on mystifies her. What do you mean you want to eat? Shouldn't you have thought of that before you got in the car? Surely you ate yesterday; you can't be
that hungry.
Anyway, the fun begins at the crack of dawn Saturday. She is travelling with a different combination of people this time...all those other wusses who want to eat food and do sightseeing (look out the window, ya big whiner!) having been weeded out last year.
These trips are always provide opportunities to learn stuff and Miss Information does like to learn stuff--for example, which of her friends pass out from low blood sugar (wimps).
Here's some of the stuff Miss Information learned last year:
1. There is no worse hell than being in a car with a 6 year-old in the midst of sugar withdrawal in the only place in the world where there is no McDonalds within eyeshot. Do yourself a favour and spend a few minutes on the Internet mapping the ice cream shops on your route.
2. Do not take your original software. God made CD burners for a reason, dumbass. It will save you time hassling your friends later for your Lemmings CD. Also it will save the eventual embarrassment when you pack for your next trip and find the Lemmings CD has been in your possession the entire time. (They don't read the blog. Don't tell them.)
3. Take every CD you own. There was an incredibly annoying trip a few years ago when she wanted, no, sorry,
needed a CD that was stupidly not in the car. This year she thinks she can whittle it down to 200 discs. This is actually 100 more than last year, but she's still anxious.
4. Speaking of CDs, it's hard to impress the youngsters with your encyclopedic knowledge of punk, alternative and garage music when they really only like the Beatles, Abba and Beethoven.
5. For the love of god, somebody in the car should be able to read a map, or failing that, have some kind of sense of direction.
Hopefully, Miss Information will return home with her sanity and friendships intact--if not that, then perhaps a new pair of shoes.
Miss Information is annoyed by wholesome summer fun
Miss Information hates her damn neighbours. She really has nothing in common with these people. For one thing, she has no designer dog. Also, if she had children, she would not give them a surname instead of a first name--all the children on the street have names that sound like law firms--Mackenzie Benson, Campbell Weatherby and so on.
Saturday was the day of the stupid annual block party. They always seem to be scheduled on her day to work and frankly she's happy with that. This year she was also invited to a very pleasant "thingy" after work, which was so enjoyable that she totally forgot there even was a stupid block party going on.
Everyone else on the street loves the block party. There's lots of happy people hanging around on the road. Stupidly-named children create havoc. This isn't too much different than an ordinary day on the street--except there's a bouncy castle. Oh, and the road is closed to traffic.
Anyway, Miss Information came home around 11. The street was still closed and she didn't want to park on another street and walk to her house. She wanted to park in her own damn driveway. But she could still see people milling about and figured the party was about over...it started 12 hours ago, right? How much partying can people do?
So she went for a cup of coffee, hoping that in an hour the party would be over and the street would be open again. Nope. She did park on another street and walked home. Amazingly, the party continued. In fact, it was in full swing, in Miss Information's driveway. Nice. Thanks for inviting her.
It was a cold evening, how much longer could the singing and dancing continue? Miss Information went inside and waited. And waited. Finally at 3:15 she went out and told the partiers that she was moving her damn car. She thought this might encourage them to get the hell out of her driveway. It did not. She thought she showed great restraint in not running them over. There was some swearing, though.
A couple of days later the nice Scottish woman who lives down the street apologized for hanging around Miss Information's driveway until 4 in the morning. (This is how familiar Miss Information is with her neighbours--she had no idea there was a nice Scottish woman down the street.)
So, anyway, now Miss Information the total bitch of the street. But you already suspected it, right?
Miss Information is annoyed by urban wildlife #2
This time the two legged variety is getting in her way.
Miss Information came home this evening and pulled into her driveway only to find a number of little pesky critters hanging around her backyard. These were apparently invited guests of the next door neighbours. They very kindly decorated her driveway with chalk pictures.
Miss Information hates to seem cranky but if she wanted chalk drawings on
her driveway, she would do them
herself. She doesn't--this is why her driveway is usually an art-free zone.
The thing that really bugs her is that the little twerps refuse to get out of the way of cars. For example,
her car...in
her driveway. She moved her car slowly towards her garage thinking the giant machine vs small person conflict might inspire the children to move. Nope. She waved at them to get out of the way. They stood staring blankly at her. What's worse, their parents didn't say anything at all. Finally the dimwits moved out of the direct path of her car. She got out of the car to open the garage door. It took like 5 seconds--by which time one of the children had moved
back in front of the car.
And their parents? As she went into her house she overheard one of the mothers say that Miss Information should have slowed down. On the other hand, Miss Information thinks the parents should explain basic science to the little jerks...paying special attention to the part where big things crush small things.
Stupid urban wildlife.
Miss Information is annoyed by urban wildlife
Miss Information didn't start out annoyed, in fact it was destined to be a pretty good day. It was the semi-annual book buying trip and because she was, at one time, the only fiction reader in the reference department, she is considered the branch fiction guru. In fact, all she does is show the customers how to use the electronic products and find their own damn books. Nevertheless, her colleagues are all fooled and that's the way Miss Information likes it, dammit. Book buying is the closest thing library staff has to theme parks and she wants to keep going. The store is filled with the intoxicating scent of fresh book--aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah papery-- and the books are all pristine, untouched, unread, unhighlighted, unsoggy--it's just so (sob) beautiful.
Besides the bookstore is downtown and she loves downtown. She was feeling all virtuous on the subway on the way there, for once not destroying the environment with her evil car emissions. And all that yoga has improved her balance so much that she only knocked over a couple of people when the train stopped--a new record!
The book buy itself was great. The staff were friendly and helpful. The books were plentiful. There were refreshments. All in all a pretty great day.
It all started to go wrong when she left the store. For one thing it was now about a billion degrees out. (Miss Information knows...it's pretty much her fault for selfishly depleating the ozone layer with those evil car emissions she mentioned earlier. She does adore her car, though.)
Still, Miss Information loves hot weather and it isn't
that difficult to step over the people with heat stroke who have collapsed on the sidewalk. So she made her way back to the subway...but she had no change--also not a problem--she just stopped for a piping hot cup of coffee, got change and made her way into the subway station....where the air conditioning wasn't working.
No problem. She sipped her coffee...hmmmm maybe should have gotten an iced one instead...got all hot and sweaty. Then the train came. No AC there either. She got home before she completely liquified, showered changed into her only funky summer top and headed into work for the evening shift...which was uneventful. Except that the underwire in her favourite bra had worked its way out and poked her all night. She hates when that happens.
On balance it was a pretty good day right up to the moment she pulled into her garage. She lives in a neighbourhood near a park and the little critters do love to hang around her garage. Earlier in the spring she'd noticed some skunks around but they seemed to have moved down the street leaving Miss Information with just the chipmunks, squirrels, and raccoons to cope with.
She didn't mind any of them. Not even the raccoons. At least not until she began to close her garage door and one of the foul beasts landed right on top of her. She squealed like a little girl--second time this week (see previous entry for
that story).
It was a very large raccoon. Really, really, really furry. With big claws.
Her one funky summer top? Destroyed. Her hand? Scratched. Her chest? Bruised. Her plans for tomorrow? Visit walk-in clinic to see about a rabies shot. The raccoon? Fine. His fall was broken by Miss Information and he's now back sleeping peacefully in her garage.
Stupid urban wildlife.
Miss Information is annoyed by stupid people
Miss Information worked yesterday and believe her when she tells you she was treated to a spectacular day-long parade of idiocy. Well, sure, that makes sense. It was a beautiful June Saturday, who besides the terminally stupid, the criminally insane and the library employees (who may fit in to one of those other categories) would set foot in a library?
Most of the problems centred around the electronic Internet booking system. It's honestly not that complicated--tell the little machine who you are, pick a time and make a mental note of the terminal you are assigned--then, at the appointed time you go to the specified terminal, log in and enjoy your online dating, looking a pictures of buses, pornography--whatever. It isn't cold fusion. Stem cells could do it. Not so the Saturday customers who were baffled by every step of the process.
By noon, Miss Information had run out of nice ways to say "computer 42 is the computer with the big '42' on it".
But the most distrurbing moment occured right before closing. Miss Information had gone to "freshen up" in the staff washroom. The door was ajar, but not closed, the light was off. These are two sure signs that the room is not occupied, right? Well, no. It was, in fact, in use--actively in use--if you know what she means. What's more, the person using it was a complete stranger. He said it was an emergency.
Miss Information was sympathetic...well, no she wasn't. She squealed like a little girl--it's very embarassing--but then so did the guy. The thing is, the staff washroom is actually quite difficult to locate. The guy would have had to walk right past a clearly marked public washroom and then navigate his way around the staff corridor...the clearly marked staff corridor.
What a jerk. Even more annoying--he didn't wash his hands. Ick.
