» Panic Buying

Why I no longer bother with Christmas
Well, at least I don't bother with my family.

See, one year I actually tried. My mother had gotten her ears pierced late in life, liked emeralds, and liked small earrings, so I got her emerald studs. My sister loves guns (yes, we are American) and likes things that go on the wall, so I went to eBay and got two gun ads from 1950s magazines--one a sign-up ad for the NRA and one some ad for some rifle--and mounted them nicely in nice frames. I bought her husband, my brother-in-law, some Mickey Mouse-themed bank, since he likes Mickey Mouse (and guns).

My mother thanked me profusely and has never once worn the earrings, so far as I know. She has, however, worn tiny Starship Enterprises that dangle from her earlobes.

My sister smirked sickly at my efforts, as if only a retard like me could think that she might like gun memorabilia. And the bank was apparently just not right, either, as my brother-in-law accepted it with a falsely hearty "Ah, Mickey!" that implied that it was probably better than a pornographic trivet, but not much.

My mother just gives me money nowadays. My sister? Her latest effort included a mini mag-lite and a pair of earrings made from tiny dysfunctional dice (each one lacks the one- and six-spot sides). None of us understand any of the other, we're all just clogging up one another's houses with non-biodegradable evidence that we don't understand one another, and you know what? I quit.

From now on, it's nothing but panic buying from me, or at best sending family members crap via Amazon. The hell with it. At least crappy books can be pulped.
(Sun 25th Dec 2005, 2:19, More)

» The Onosecond

Not as good as some, but ...
I was on the receiving end of this one. I work at a university, and one of the department secretaries CC:ed everyone--including the faculty--on a personal email about how much she and her interlocutor had come to dislike their jobs and about how all the interesting professors had left.

If you've ever talked much to a professor, you might know that all professors consider themselves fascinating. I never have heard a reaction from any of them, though. Funny, that.
(Fri 27th May 2005, 20:48, More)

» Losing Your Virginity

yuck
So I'd been dating this guy my senior year of high school. He was a major prick who felt put-upon and unappreciated no matter what, and I broke up with him badly (I bungled it) just as we were about to go to the same university.

He had managed to persuade me that I was a walking collection of flaws, blunders, sheer bitchiness, and failures. So when, one summer afternoon between high school and university, he came on to me and we ended up going to bed, I thought "Why not? It's not like anyone else will ever want to sleep with me." (This is a man who was in danger of passing the 300-pound line. No, I don't know what I was thinking.)

So I get on top, he squeezes his eyes shut and humps. After a couple of minutes of me regarding his face, he finally opens his eyes to see what's going on on my end, sees that I'm just kinda watching--no, he really wasn't doing anything other than humping with his eyes screwed shut--and says "Are you bored?" I say "yes" and he bursts into tears. I forget how I got out of there.

Later I found out he told a lot of people that I had come on to him, had been boinking him vigorously and then had suddenly announced I was bored and just got up and left. When confronted, he said that people remembered different things differently and mumble mumble mumble.

I didn't go to his wedding years later. Poor woman. I hope he hasn't squished her.

//Tullia
(Sat 5th Mar 2005, 22:49, More)

» Inappropriate crushes

Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins
Dick Van Dyke he Disney movie version of Mary Poppins. Yes, I know you have to put scare quotes around "Cockney" to describe his accent in that movie, but something about his capering awakened the first approximations of lust in me as a little girl. It wasn't exactly a crush, though, as I didn't obsess about him for long.

Then there was the college student co-worker at the bookstore I worked at one summer. Inappropriate content: I was 16 and he 21 or 22. Also, some accident (possibly genetic) earned him the nickname "Dicknose." Not a pretty man. That was a real crush, though nothing ever happened.

Then there was the professor in a grad school seminar. To make it worse, it was, so far as I know, fully reciprocated, and I believe you could see our mutual googly-eyes from Jupiter. He was fashion-unaware, tall, gangly, and wonderful, and his wife was in school hundreds of miles away and heavily pregnant. Nothing ever happened, as both of us had consciences about the size of Alaska, though I guess his didn't extend to keeping his eyes from popping from his head every time I walked past. And that reminds me of a similarly fucked-up pedagogical relationship with a high-school teacher of mine ...

For those of you would-be teachers/professors: the rule goes way beyond look-don't-touch--you should not be obviously in lust with a student. It's creepy and wrong, even if the student thinks he or she is in love with you at the time. Thank you.

And yeah, I teach now, and follow my own advice, and am even married and sort of normal.
(Sun 1st Oct 2006, 18:54, More)

» Take my Mother-in-law...

MILs
I don't mind my mother-in-law, but she certainly has ... tics. She and my father-in-law (and my husband, me, etc.) are heavy-duty cat people, and so as to charm her we sent her photos of my charming gato.

Her response? "Tell Tullia she has a lovely pussy."

... Okay.

Then there was the time we started showing her infinitecat.com, thinking, "Hey! Cat pr0n! This will delight her!" and she started crying because every third cat reminded her of some dear departed kitty of her own. Not, in retrospect, our best idea.
(Sat 10th Sep 2005, 19:51, More)