We interrupt regularly scheduled programming for this important announcement

For the love of god, people, this is your last day to vote! And (just like the American election system) we are down to only two real choices: "your blogmuffin" and "Hoss", which are completely tied up! OMG!OMG!OMG! Don't throw your vote away on Ron Paul, I mean "your jujubee".

Poll is still open, as I write this, but hurry. Figure out what you want me to call you. Up there, on the right... DO IT!!

PS to the paranoids (Yeah, I'm looking at you lurkers): The poll does not track you. I have no idea who you are or what you voted for, so step up, people!

"Fa-fa-fa-fa-fashion" --David Bowie

Many years ago, I was on a business trip to Boston and had a little time on my hands before my conference started. So, I wandered around the streets looking at stuff. This was the era when women accessorized with a large scarf wrapped haphazardly around the neck. I passed a street vendor with some pretty scarf options and thought, why not have a souvenir of Boston? I picked out a nice black and white one. I loved it and wore it a lot.

That is, I loved it up until my sister saw it.

Sister, eyes growing wide: Oh my god! Are you wearing a keffiyeh?!
Me: ...what?
Sister, getting louder: You're wearing a keffiyeh!
Me: A what?
Sister: Don't you know what a keffiyeh is? That's what Yasser Arafat wears. Are you PLO now?!

Urg. I took it off and stuffed it in the closet and eventually gave it away. Because I wasn't trying to make a political statement, I just thought it was pretty. But Yasser? Not such a pretty fella.

Once you know something, you can't not know it. I couldn't see the scarf as pretty anymore.

[My sister may have yelled at Rachael Ray, too.]

This leads to the question du jour: Have you loved something until somebody told you something about it or just dissed it so incessantly that you couldn't love it anymore?*




* For the record, Narm, no matter how many times you tell me why Nickelback sucks, I still love them.**

** Has anybody else noticed that Daughtry and Nickelback are sounding suspiciously more and more alike? Check it.

"Hello? Is there anybody in there?" --Pink Floyd

So, how hard can it be to come up with a psychological profile? People do it all the time. And get rich! What say we give it a try. You can be my test group.


The "Hand Me That" Profile.

Instructions: Choose one and only one answer for each numbered item. Do not dwell. Pick the the letter that corresponds to the first answer that appeals to you.

1.
A. Stapler
B. Scissors
C. White Out
D. Tuberculosis

2.
A. Mixing Bowl
B. Pastry Cutter
C. To Go Menu
D. Tuberculosis

3.
A. Trowel
B. Pick Axe
C. Lime
D. Tuberculosis

4.
A. Clamp
B. Scalpel
C. Release form
D. Tuberculosis


Now, tally up your answers. If you answered mostly:

A: You are The Tinker Toy God. You are a creative person. Often you create something out of nothing... mountains out of molehills. Your need to create has gotten way out of hand. Let it go.

B: You are The Ripper. You believe the only way forward is by cutting through all that is extraneous. You feel stabby a lot of the time. Trust your instincts. The voices know best.

C: You are The Weasel. What are you hiding? You present one image to the world while maintaining a separate one in private. Eventually the truth will out. Leave the country.

D: You are The Average Joe. Being average isn't pretty. Consider mixing it up now and then. Try something new. And see a doctor.

"Do you know the way to San Jose?" --Dionne Warwick (Redux)

So, a few housekeeping details...

First, go vote in my poll if you haven't done so already. Up on the right there. It's a big decision.

Second, a big thanks to my friends, who I think are wonderful, just for being their delightful selves. We threw a low-key, little shindig this weekend and, even though I was wrapped tighter than a 7-11 taquito--Martha Stewart I am so so not, the gracious people that showed were marvelous.

And now on with today's post...

So, we skyrocketed into 2003: We bought a GPS. Got ourselves a Garmin. So, now I argue with the Garmin. Garmin gets me in touch with my inner Kanye.

Ah, Garmin, who, by the way has a masculine name but a feminine voice. I don't judge. Although I do think it's curious that directing software (GPSes, Information, phone trees) all have female voices but all the top DJs are male. *scratches head* So we want to be entertained by men but be ordered about by women?

Garmin: Turn right at Franklin Street in 1 mile.
Me: No.
Garmin: Turn right at Franklin Street in 300 feet.
Me: Eff that!
Garmin: *brief pause while Garmin silently judges me for being the insolent brat I am. Then, simply...* Recalculating.

Garmin is clever. Garmin is better with time estimates than I am. And Garmin always knows the speed limit, even when I can't see a sign for it.

But Garmin isn't perfect. Garmin may know that Franklin is the shortest route but Garmin doesn't seem to care that there's a deadly left turn that's on the other side of Franklin and I'm not gonna risk my neck just to make Garmin feel good about itself.

And, where Garmin gets us where we need to be 99% of the time, Garmin sometimes screws up. Garmin has taken us in loops. Seriously. It told us to take a particular road and then went into "recalculating" mode, turning us around, as if we'd made the decision instead of it. Bastard. (Bitch?)

And, on rare occasion, it will take us close to where we want to be without actually delivering us to the destination. Like an obstinate cabby on the edge of a sketchy neighborhood refusing to go any farther...

Garmin: Arrive at destination in 100 feet.
Us: What? This isn't the destination.
Garmin: Arrive at destination.
Us: WTF? This isn't the destination!

And--now, this is really sad--when Garmin gets it wrong? I feel a little smug. Who's recalculating now, Garmin? Hmmm?

Voting on the important issues

[Click to enlarge photo.]


Up there... see it? Got a poll up on the right. Make your vote count!