While on the topic of razors and bathrooms and such, I was recently traveling and noticed one of those emergency pull cord string things in a bathroom.  Actually, now that I have been looking, I see these things in most commercial-building bathrooms.  I have a hunch that there is nothing on the other end of those.  At the very least there is nothing on the end of those inside that building (I asked the front desk).  Is it possible that pulling the string connects to some external system – like Lifecall?  Let’s pause for a brief tribute to LifeCall:

This woman has fallen! Can she get up?

Anyhow, premise 1 is that there is no one on the other end of the string.  Premise 2 is: what kind of emergency technology is a string sticking out of a wall anyway?  Does it connect to a tin can on the other end so you can speak to someone?  This hunch is so strong that I can almost see myself testing it out.  But I’ll have to prepare just in case somebody shows up to help me.  That would be a true emergency. 

And now a sampling of the Google ads that came up while I was searching for how those cords work.  All of which are hilarious:

Oh wait, nevermind.  That’s just a pack of razors.

I had no idea that the phrase "Good News!" was a registered trademark of Gillette. I suppose I'll have to stop throwing that one around...

Today I received a ticket for running a red light. How you ask?  Well, it was mailed pictures from a  streetlight camera.  I had no idea that those things existed in the US!  (I should also point out that the ticket was for turning left after a light had turned red – I stand by my decision on this one).   My options are to either be really really careful from now on, or think of it as an “expediency tax” for getting around at a reasonable pace in NYC.  I can’t say which I’m going to choose – lest it be used against me in a court of law – but if you want me to come over your house to talk about it I can be there in 5 minutes flat.  No matter where you are.

Why can’t we take a lesson from our parent country and put clear warning signs before the lights that have traffic cameras?

The hitch is that only people born before 1900 recognize this as a camera and know to slow down.

Dear Ben,

Hey – you read my blog!  While you’re here I’d like to remind  you that I won this year’s Summer Olympics, and you owe me a plaque.  It doesn’t have to be made of gold per-se, but something with a bit of flashiness to it might be nice.    Also, I don’t want it to be so big that it tears the wall of the apartment down, but anything up til that  point would be perfect.  Let me know if you need me to recommend a good plaque store or if you need help drafting the prose to describe my victory!

I look forward to falling in love with my plaque.  It will be the only thing in our home that truly understands me and how great I am at beating you at things.  One day, we might run off together… my glorious plaque and I.

Love you,

Joanna

Just in case you don’t spend your time watching dogs chase laser pointers:

So my haitus in August started not because of the wedding, but because I was blind.  An eye injury from my contact lenses left me without sight (or more importantly without blogging capacity) for 10 days.  Egads!  From this time I have some blind stories saved up, which are going to start coming out over the next few weeks.

When my vision came back it was a slow going.  During a train ride I saw (fuzzily) a sign that said:

Next is anal     ?  Get real.

And that was it, the entire poster.  Now, I’ll admit that there was probably some graffiti action there that my visual acuity was not strong enough to decipher. But I want to let that graffiti artist know that for semi-blind people it looked perfect!

Also, even if it that poster had been in tact it probably still would have been pretty silly.

I was listening to BBC radio the other day and there was a story on about unidentified flying objects.  It turns out that the BBC calls them UFOs.  But as a word not an acronym.  It’s pronounced oofohs.   

Crazy.

Remember that Chingy song “Holiday Inn”?  You know, it’s about the place where you should bring 4 of your friends because Chingy is there with some Hennessy and 12 other girls, so we’re just going to see what happens?

I fequently wonder how the Holiday Inn corporation feels about that song.  Seriously – I probably consider this question about once-a-month.  Is it good for business?  Bad for business?  Do they really hate having to deal with hotel parties?  At the very least I’m sure it was really fun for all the employees the first week after the song came out.  And then really annying for the following two years.  But I guess that’s how it was for all of us.

Unfortunately this doesn't get us any useful informaiton...

1. They eat sea grass.
2. People kill them to use their shell for jewelry and such.
3. They lay eggs on the beach.
4. They love interrupting wedding vows.  It’s their favorite thing to do.

Even as a little girl I dreamed of being upstaged by a sea-turtle at my wedding

Now it’s back to life (and blogging) as usual.

When I was a kid my mom had a cork- board hanging near the telephone that all of us kids loved to carve into with pens.  I was nervous about getting busted, so I always carved my older brother’s name (Bobby) or things I thought my brothers would say.  Seeing as Bob was 13 and I was 6 I’m really not sure who I thought I was kidding with that handwriting.

I actually got busted with for some graffiti last summer in my apartment.  While we were watching a parade out the window Ben discovered the phrase “Joanna is pretty great” carved into the outside of the windowsill, a few weeks old.  I like that not only did I write about myself on the windowsill, but I also decided to put a modifier to make sure nobody made a mistake and thought I was great, just pretty great.