The Federal Egg Answering Room
The only thing more awkward than being an accidental witness to other people’s tragedies is being an accidental witness to other people’s tragedies while trying to take a shit.

Taking care of business in a public restroom is something we all want to get done as quickly as possible.  This was my plan, until someone walked in sniffling.

            It’s ok, I told myself uneasily.  She has a cold.  Then I heard the little “huh huh huh” noises that confirmed what I was dreading.

            I waited for her to go into a stall so I could wash my hands and get out of there without having to talk to her.  To ask what’s wrong would be too forward, and to ignore her completely would seem heartless, so it would be best to avoid an interaction altogether, because if you make a mistake, the world will explode.  This is the logic of the socially awkward. 

            My chance to escape never came, because one of her friends walked in.  What followed was a deep heart-to-heart about the crying woman’s work stress and midterm woes and family issues that she would have to deal with over spring break, all of which I clearly overheard from my position in the stall.  I have no idea who this woman is or what she looks like, but I do know that she can’t be at work right now, but she has to because she promised Owen she would take over his shift, and so she feels really exhausted but also really guilty.

            I suppose I should have tried to feel sorry for her, but all I could think was y’all need to get the fuck outta this bathroom or I am gonna be late for class.  There’s something intrinsically difficult about trying to empathize with someone while you’re on the crapper.  Or maybe I’m just a terrible person. 

            Finally the friend left and the crying woman retreated into a stall, and I was able to wash my hands and flee like the devil.  I dried my hands on my coat, because the dryer was next the stall the woman had taken, and that was a no-man’s-land as far as I was concerned.  As I left, I felt like a POW escaping from behind enemy lines, and also like kind of an idiot.  But I guess if this is the worst thing that’s happened to me today, I’m doing pretty well.

The person who runs this blog is such an asshat

The person who runs this blog is such an asshat

So one time my mom dropped her cane into an open grave.

My mom has limited mobility as a result of a severe spinal cord injury she sustained when she was sixteen.  It is difficult for her to walk without a cane, and for long distances she uses a scooter, which she enjoys cranking up to the highest speed and watching as we try and fail to keep up with her on foot.

I don’t really like to say that she “copes well” with her disability, because she’s really sort of beyond just “coping.”  I mean, she can’t walk up stairs very well and she’s not going to be running any marathons, but she still does pretty much all the things she enjoys, like gardening and kayaking and swimming laps and waterskiing (she has a custom-made ski that enables her to out-ski the rest of us with relative ease).

However, I have observed that regular use of a cane can result in some minor mishaps, such as accidentally whacking someone in the teeth, or tripping people.  And then sometimes, if she’s not watching, it falls into things like open graves.

The funeral was an aunt’s, and the service was outside.  As all the relatives were passing by the casket to pay their respects, Mom paused to peer into the crypt.  (When I asked why, she said, somewhat enigmatically, “I just sort of wanted to see what was down there.”)  She had misjudged the distance between her and the edge of the grave, and as she suddenly felt the ground give way beneath her cane, she let go in order to avoid falling with it, and it clattered to the bottom of the crypt.  Not wishing to make too much of a scene, Mom stood quietly and respectfully by the grave as two of the pallbearers retrieved her cane.

Were this an episode of Supernatural, the cane would probably gain some kind of weird power or curse or something.  Personally though, I feel that as long as Mom’s using it, any supernatural powers it had would probably go more or less unnoticed.

If I was the Bachelorette, viewing figures would skyrocket.

See, I would weed out the weak and undedicated early.  Before the dates, I would hold a series of contests, which would include:

  • dueling, with weapons of the contestant’s choice (to disarm only, I’m not a savage)
  • one day of general housework for me while I chill out and watch Buffy.  Whoever does the most thorough job wins.
  • Delivery of a Shakespeare monologue of the contestant’s choice (although I will also accept Moliere or any of the ancient Greek playwrights)
  • A reenactment of a historical event of the contestant’s choice
  • A cosplay contest
  • A social justice trivia contest.  Extra points are deducted if the contestant tries to argue about a wrong answer.
  • And the finale: JOUSTING!  Don’t tell me you wouldn’t watch that shit.

Eliminations are based on a cumulative point system, so if a contestant completely bombs one of the contests, that doesn’t necessarily take them out of the running. And then, those who are worthy shall accompany me on the following dates:

  • A masked ball
  • Shark cage diving 
  • A day the animal shelter, so as to cuddle with puppies and kitties
  • Celtic karaoke
  • Dinner at an authentic medieval mead hall (costumes optional, but recommended)
  • A tour of an archaeological site of the Bachelorette’s choice
  • A marathon of all the Lord of the Rings Extended Editions
  • Just chilling out and eating ice cream and playing Scrabble or whatever

If you say you wouldn’t watch the show if I was the Bachelorette, you are a liar. 

I need to do a post, but I don’t know what to write about, so here’s a collection of stupid shit I think is funny.

1. What do you think of when you hear the title “Oakdale Affair”?  A star-studded British romcom starring Emma Thompson and Colin Firth?  A euphemism for a minor goverment scandal?  A married Mr. Oakdale sleeping with the cable guy?  (I’m sure it’s happened.)

All wrong.  This is The Oakdale Affair:

According to Wikipedia, this guy’s name is Beppo.  All I can think about now is how much romcoms would improve as a genre if they included more bears.

2.  Whenever I say “I’m on my period” and some guy goes “ew ew ew”, I like to yell “PERIOD PERIOD PERIOD” in his face.

3. I want a sitcom about Romantic poets.  I want Keats, Shelley, Byron and Coleridge all living together and getting into wacky adventures that Wordsworth always winds up having to get them out of.

4. I think it’s really gross when guys flex their pecs.  It makes them look like there’s something alive in their chest that’s trying to get out.  But that’s just me.

5.  Sometimes, when I’m bored in class, I look around the room and think about which of my classmates would make good pirates and/or gladiators.

6. I’m not sure how to end this post.  So here’s a sign I found hanging in a cafe at my college:

In the spirit of continuing to make you follow up on things you said months before, did you ever set up a Flickr album with your archeology pictures? The world demands to see your Bulgarian adventures!
Anonymous

I need to hire you as my official Make-Me-Remember-Stuff person.

These past two months have been emotional hell, and I’m still struggling a lot, so I’m not sure if I can promise a good funny post any time soon, but I will put the Bulgaria flickr album on my to-do list for this weekend.

Here’s something funny though: I have this app called Windbell Diary, and it’s this little journaling app that opens with a graphic of a desk with an open window above it.  You can pick out what sounds you want to play (chimes, birds, rain) and what view you want out of the window.  This is what mine looks like:

I dunno.  I like it.

Then Fëanor laughed as one fey…”Let those who cursed my name curse me still, and whine their way back to the cages of the Valar!  Let the ships burn!”  But lo, as he took up the torch, he was smote about the head with a frying pan with such force that it caused him to see stars, and verily at that moment he thought Varda herself had come to him; but soon his sight cleared and he realized he was but mildly concussed.  And he did quarrel with his assailant, and the quarrel went thusly:
"Ow!  Why - "
"Hush.  Stop.  Stop doing things."
"What - "
"Stop."
"But - "
"No."
"But I - "
"No."
"You - "
"NO.  Go sit in the corner."
And so it came to pass that Fëanor, Finwë’s son, did sit in the corner, for he was ashamed, and still a little bit dizzy.
- An excerpt from my new hit novel Fëanor, Calm Your Tits

Then Fëanor laughed as one fey…”Let those who cursed my name curse me still, and whine their way back to the cages of the Valar!  Let the ships burn!”  But lo, as he took up the torch, he was smote about the head with a frying pan with such force that it caused him to see stars, and verily at that moment he thought Varda herself had come to him; but soon his sight cleared and he realized he was but mildly concussed.  And he did quarrel with his assailant, and the quarrel went thusly:

"Ow!  Why - "

"Hush.  Stop.  Stop doing things."

"What - "

"Stop."

"But - "

"No."

"But I - "

"No."

"You - "

"NO.  Go sit in the corner."

And so it came to pass that Fëanor, Finwë’s son, did sit in the corner, for he was ashamed, and still a little bit dizzy.

- An excerpt from my new hit novel Fëanor, Calm Your Tits

You take exactly none of the shit. The world needs more people like you.

obsessedwithlotr:

Haha thanks.

Ok, I’m reblogging this interaction because I noticed something literally just a second ago that somehow I’d never noticed before.

Followers, look very closely at my ask.

Closer.

Closer.

Do you see it yet?

My ask is coming out of the gnome’s butt.

Y’all…I fart questions at people.

I feel better about the world now that I know this.

(Oh, and Tolkienite followers should go follow obsessedwithlotr ‘cause she’s a badass)

I was planning to write something funny about The Desolation of Smaug when I got back from the theater.

But what I had to watch was not remotely funny.  And I wouldn’t post it, except that I feel like I need to say this.  (Warning: spoilers ahead, I guess.)

I was looking forward to seeing Tauriel.  I was looking forward to having a sister in the sausage fest.  What I got was yet another goddamn Strong Female Character, with no story or personality or function other than a love interest for Legolas and Kíli to fight over.

If this was some other action film, I wouldn’t be fazed, because I’m used to this kind of thing.  But this, for me, is different because of how much Tolkien’s work means to me.  I cried on the way home, because I now know that this is what the people who have taken the reins of Tolkien’s legendarium think of my gender.

I don’t hate Tauriel.  I hate what they did to her.  She could have been so much more.

I can’t articulate how much this stings.

Maybe Elrond can help.