No, that's not Lady Gaga - that's Dale Bozzio. You know, from Missing Persons. From the Eighties? They sang "Destination Unknown" - the song that starts out "Life Is So Strange"? NONE of this ringing a bell? Well, then, you're probably too young to be reading this blog.
Speaking of Ms. B, which I guess I now sort of am (there's a reason why I'm labeling this post "Apropos of Nothing"), did you know that she was convicted for being a crazy cat lady? Yup, they can jail you and fine you for that, apparently. Twelve counts of animal cruelty. But she was only convicted on one count, because - GET THIS - the judge threw out the other eleven charges because the prosecutor failed to specifically identify the cats at issue. The lawyer in me has SOOOOOO many questions. Would the petition have been specific enough if the cats had been identified by general description ("one tortie tabby, two Maine Coons, a calico with a chewed ear"), or was more required ("Victim #1 was a male Siamese named Mel, approximately 12 pounds")? What if they didn't have names? If someone allegedly was cruel enough to cause or permit the untimely demise of multiple felines, and, also, if that multitude equaled or exceeded twelve felines total, it's possible that she never got around to naming said felines. They could have all just been CAT, you know?
Also, can you imagine the prosecutor's meeting with the boss post-trial? "What happened with the Bozzio case?" "Um, I didn't specifically identify the cats in the pleading." "What? Speak up!" "I DIDN'T NAME THE CATS, OKAY?"
Any-who. I only bring up Ms. B because of her song - specifically, the "Life Is So Strange" part.
Last Thursday, my office was attacked my ninjas. Sort of. In the morning, after several confusing conversations with a title company (lender in a real estate deal said that they were working hand in hand with the closer at "the" title company; closer claimed to have never heard of the bank), I discovered that the bank had engaged a second title company of its own accord, entirely without our knowledge. So WE were working with Title Company #1, and THEY were working with Title Company #2, and all of the references going back and forth to "THE" title company were being interpreted entirely differently by the two sides.
Ninja #1: Stealth Title Company.
I jokingly asked if there was a stealth surveyor involved as well.
I should learn not to ask these questions. Yup, two parties there, too.
Ninja #2: Stealth Surveyor.
Then, in an effort to clear my head, I took a short break to check Facebook and read that a friend's infant had slept well in his Pack 'n Play on his first night home. Which was interesting information, as said friend was not pregnant, and I had no idea that she and her husband had initiated the adoption process. (Apparently, they kept this information close to the vest, which is totally understandable.)
Ninja #3: Stealth Infant.
I have heard tales of Stealth Infants before. Seriously. Specifically thinking of one set of friends who received clearance to adopt from their (highly reputable and prominent) adoption agency, were essentially told, "Don't call us, we'll call you," and almost a year later got an out-of-the-blue call wanting to know if they could be home between 5 and 7, TO RECEIVE DELIVERY OF THEIR NEW FOREVER-CHILD. I cannot imagine. It's like becoming parents via Sears Home Service. (I wonder if, in order to provide the FULL Sears Home Service experience, they showed up at 6:59? But I digress.) What if your answer is no, we can't be home between 5 and 7? What if you have a really good reason - like, you're picking up the Queen of England from the airport? Do they give your baby to another family, a la giving your table to another party if you don't respond to the buzzing coaster-thingie at the restaurant?
So last Thursday was Ninja Day. Ninja Day left me sort of discombobulated.
Today, July 17, 2012, shall go down in history as the day that I thought I was an Internet celebrity for approximately ten minutes but then learned that I had been punked by a Sheltie. Yes, a Sheltie DOG, like this one:
(Okay, so that's totally not a Sheltie. I THOUGHT that I had a photo of OUR Sheltie on this computer, but I was mistaken. But then I found this photo of the Dorgi with the Big Kid when he was not-so-big, and I just had to share. Did you notice that the dog matches the couch (which we don't one anymore)? That's how he got his nickname - "Couch-Colored Dog." Seriously, we actually call him that. Even though we no longer own the dorgi-colored couch. Because we are weird that way.)
Here's the weird thing about Pinterest: instead of being bummed that I was not actually a budding Food Network star, I found myself checking out Dog Nestle's Pinterest boards - and I liked what I saw, AND STARTED REPINNING STUFF THAT A DOG RECOMMENDED. This is an example of why Spouse will never, ever IN A MILLION YEARS "get" Pinterest, BTW. He actually tried for awhile. When we first embarked on our "remodeling a kitchen with a gun to our head" project, the learning curve vis-a-vis appliances and such was crazy-steep, on account of how we had never seriously thought about acquiring new kitchen stuff prior thereto. We ended up spending countless hours researching options on the Internet, and being a crafty person with ovaries and decent computer skills, I pinned what I found to Pinterest.
Spouse: What's that?
Me: Um, my Pinterest board for the remodel?
Spouse: And the point of what you are doing IS?
Me: Well, it's kind of like when you e-mail me forty different links to computer peripherals available through Amazon.com - which, by the way, I TOTALLY ENJOY - but instead of having to locate your e-mail in my crowded inbox and then clicking on the links to see the pictures, I go to this page, and the pictures are there, and the links are embedded in the pictures.
Some time later, Spouse advised me that, he, too, was pinning appliance options. Um, to where, exactly, because I don't remember inviting you to join my board?
"I created my own board."
Attaboy. Mad props! For several days, all was well in Marital Pinterest Land. Until one day:
Spouse: Women are stalking me on the Internet!
Me: Beg pardon?
Spouse: On Pinterest. THEY ARE STALKING ME.
Me: OH. Do you mean "following"?
Spouse: Whatever. First, they were "repinning" things from my board - WHATEVER THE HELL THAT MEANS - and now they are FOLLOWING me. WHO ARE THESE WOMEN, AND HOW DID THEY FIND ME?
Me: Uh, they were probably just searching a particular brand of appliance, and your pin linking to a specific model came up, and they repinned your link as a shortcut to that item. It's nothing personal - just a convenience thing.
Spouse: Okay, so how do I block my content?
Me: BLOCK it?
Spouse: Yes. How do I make it so my board is only visible to ME?
Me [after counting one-thousand-one, one-thousand-two and then deciding to lump it]: THAT DEFEATS THE ENTIRE PURPOSE OF PINTEREST! PINTEREST IS ALL ABOUT SHARING!!!!! IF YOU DON'T WANT TO SHARE, THEN TAKE YOUR APPLIANCES AND GO HOME!
Spouse is no longer on Pinterest, by the way.
Here is a link to my favorite of Dog Nestle's Pinterest boards:
Totally gonna bake rosemary and sea salt rolls in a Mason jar this weekend . . . .