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Friday,
January 30, 2004
Feminists and Greek tragedy. Um, not that these two are related.  Which Phase of the Greek Tragic Cycle Are You? Also, Dar Williams is the Feminist of the Day today! Huzzah huzzay Dar! I'm not in the habit of posting song lyrics, but let me tell you, Dar Williams is brilliant. Check out Dar in her lovely cheapo video loveliness. Or here's a "I Have No Right", which is about Phillip Berrigan. I don't think these are the best of her discography, but they're the only ones I can find on the internet.
- declared by Liusia @ 11:28 PM Aw, I was hoping to be a commie.  Which America Hating Minority Are You? - declared by Liusia @ 7:48 PM Thursday,
January 29, 2004
Professor Pulitzer's opening volley My first assignment for Creative Non-fiction was a doozy. The task: to write a one-page descriptive essay...without using any adjectives or adverbs. I actually think the result turned out kind of cool. The essay, by the way, "based on a true story." I made shit up where it improved the tone. Hey, this one didn't have to be non-fiction, just descriptive while not using any descriptive words. Our mother is worrying again. We hear the coyotes and wolves howling in the night, and she's convinced they're going to eat a pony or the puppy or my brother. So my stepsister and I are dispatched to confirm that the sanctity of the pasture's perimeter hasn't been breached by an invasion of canids. So, with more swaddling than the infants of the Middle Ages, we trundle down the access road, the wind slashing our skin despite our armor of cotton and wool. Our heads cant downwards, sheltering our eyes from the assault of needles masquerading as snow. We've reached the gate, and by an accord that requires no words, we clamor over the barrier, our boots rasping against the coating of rust and ice. It's foolhardiness, as the gates date back to the founding of the farm, and rust and time have begun to devour the hinges, but surmounting the latch while wearing gloves? No. Removing said gloves? No. So we clamor. The herd of horses is behind the copse of pines, so can't see them from here. We trudge toward the copse, reluctance weighing down our steps, each footfall stopping first on the encrustation of ice, then breaking through - crunch! - to the powder of snow below. Another step, and the crust of ice in its rapaciousness entraps and nearly seizes my stepsister's boot. "Oh, screw this," she mutters, and exchanging a glance reveals what we both are considering - a retreat to base and a lie - "We checked, everything's fine, ma!" - declared by Liusia @ 11:40 AM A blog filled with pure unadulterated brilliance and a bunch of really terrible puns The two are not mutually exclusive, you know. Check it. This sucka's going on my links page, no doubt. - declared by Liusia @ 3:11 AM Hypocondria by proxy So yesterday I skipped my classes. What, it's the sixth day of classes, you say? How are you already skipping class? Why are you even paying for your education? To which I reply: Ha ha ha ha ha I have a scholarship. And then I hasten to add, I was skipping class for a good reason: I was sitting at the vet's office with stupid Malfoy. Stupid Malfoy has stupid gastric ulcers. About once a year, he generally starts getting all listless and crabby and skinny and shows other evidence (okay, there are no delicate little flowers around here, we'll call it what it is: bloody turds) and then we have to go to the vet and get all the accumlated stupid hairballs removed from his stupid stomach with a stupid endoscope. And then I have to take him home and forcefeed him disgusting medication and mushed up food four times a day for two weeks, which would put a real damper on my social life if I had one. As usual, even though I knew it was ulcers, I was convinced he had cancer or the plague or something, and had myself all tearfully psyched-up to have him put to sleep (I hate the phrase "put to sleep," but I'm reluctant to come right out and say "injected with poison") and was panicking because the ground is too frozen to bury him and I can't stand the thought of him going out with the trash and tubby co-dependent Colin will just pine away for him and sob, he's my little stupid ferret. And then I go to the vet, and she's like, here, have some antacid and some antibiotics. The vet was, however, kind enough to warn me that sometimes it seems like ferrets are dealing fine with the ulcers but then the ulceration hits a major vein and they just up and hemorrhage to death. So now I keep looking for puddles of blood. Earlier tonight I went in to check on him, and his head was dangling off the side of his little hammock. So I poked him and said in a disgusting cute baby voice, "Is you dead, lil' ferret?" (I know, revolting.) And he didn't respond. So I picked him up, and he still didn't wake up. So I jiggled him around, and he still didn't wake up. So I panicked and stuck him under the faucet, and he woke up right quick and tried to savage my finger. (Fair enough; I would savage a lot more than someone's finger if they woke me up by sticking my head under a faucet.) He sleeps like a corpse all the time, even when he's healthy; once when Liz's mom was ferret-sitting for me while I was on a vacation, she was absolutely certain Malfoy was dead. I guess it's pretty common in ferrets. But this time, of course, I thought he'd bled to death inside or something. Whenever I walk past the cage I look in to make sure the both of them are breathing. See, this is why I couldn't have kids. I'd definitely be one of those horrible parents who sits up all night watching the baby breathe for fear of SIDS and then when the kid gets older won't let it ever ride a bicycle. And then when the kid goes off to college, I'd call it all the time to ask if it was making Good Life Choices. I must never have children. Of course, I probably now can't have children, thanks to my grand Russian adventure. Good. - declared by Liusia @ 12:41 AM Fishy-fishy-fishy! Anyway, "Gilderoy" won the name-the-fish vote. But I haven't started calling him Gilderoy yet, because the fish has developed a heretofore unsuspected personality trait: he's vicious as all hell. He's like a pirhana. He's like a Fox pundit. He fights constantly with his reflection in the tank glass. He gets really mad at his refection when it tries to eat his food, and gets even madder when he tries to attack it and just bounces off the glass impotently. He'd bite my fingers off, if he had teeth. He's a teeny fish with the soul of a giant rabid wolverine. He's the best fish ever. But the previous name suggestions don't fit so well anymore. He needs a name that is violent and beautiful. - declared by Liusia @ 12:05 AM Wednesday,
January 28, 2004
They're in love. They're gay. They're penguins. So damn cute. I'd write something really insightful about the significance of this, but I'm lazy. Read the article and think your own deep thoughts, people. If you're real ambitious, you can put them down in the comments box. - declared by Liusia @ 12:13 AM Tuesday,
January 27, 2004
"The case of Susan Vanderveer: a fatality because of an absent spleen Mr. and Mrs. Vanderveer owned a farm in the Hudson Valley in lower New York State. They were both descended from Dutch settlers who came to the Hudson Valley in the mid 17th century. There were multiple consanguineous marriages among their ancestors, and Mr. and Mrs. Vanderveer were distantly related to each other. At the time of this case, they had five children - three girls and two boys. Their youngest daughter, Susan, was 10 months old when she developed a cold, which lasted for two weeks. On the 14th day of her upper respiratory infection, she became sleepy and felt very hot. Her mother found that her temperature was 41.7 degrees C. When Susan developed convulsive movements of her extremities, she was rushed to the emergency room but she died on the way to the hospital. Postmortem cultures of blood were obtained, and also from her throat and cerebrospinal fluid. All the cultures grew Haemophilus influenzae, type B. At autopsy Susan was found have no spleen." From Case Studies in Immunology 3: A Clinical Companion, Liz's immunology textbook. Okay, maybe it was more entertaining when Liz came out and read it aloud to us in a Robert Stack voice. - declared by Liusia @ 8:55 PM
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