Uncommon Julia

On Fluid Dynamics and Vampire Erections

This post is likely to do several things:

1. Get all sorts of clicks from people on the fringe searching for p0rn of the decidedly strange variety.

2. Convince you that I'm way more weird than you initially suspected.

3. Renew your interest in my blog on the off chance I find more ways to string together unlikely phrases like the one in this title.

4. Embarrass the hell out of me on several counts.

Shall we proceed?

Let me start by saying that I blame this entire post fully on my two best friends for passing along the (embarrassing) sickness that is the Twilight series.  Yep.  All on them.

I watched my friends succumb to these books one by one, their circles of conversation growing at each Mom's Night to include more and more nodding heads until, finally, I was left alone, frowning on the fringes and rolling my eyes until they damned near hurt.

C'mon, folks!  It's teenaged vampire fiction!  Junior high girls are forming camps dedicated to promoting one made-up boy over another!  You can't possibly be serious.

Surely, you know where this is going.

In a moment of weakness, while using my friend's home library as a personal book store (what? you would, too.) I took the first book home with me.  The writing wasn't great, but the plot was decent.  I read through it in an average amount of time, but I couldn't really see what the whole huge fuss was about.  Still, I asked for the next book.

In many ways, it was like Todd's first experience with sushi.  One of the first times he'd ever met my mom, we went for sushi.  Todd had never tried it and only caved agreed after my mom made a handful of disparaging comments about his manliness for refusing to eat it.  "It was okay," he concluded, "but it's not like I'll be craving it."  A few short months later, sushi topped Todd's list as his all-time favorite food choice.

I read the second book in four days time, all while maintaining my work and childcare duties.  You'll notice household duties weren't mentioned.  Begrudgingly, I admitted that I was into the characters.  I still found room to make fun of her repetitive use of language, but the plot had me hooked.

More to the point, the infuriatingly never-consumated soft-core make-out action had me hooked.  "COME ON!" I'd yell in my head, "just DO IT already!!" (Hey, I never claimed to be the poster child for chastity or self-constraint.)

"But he might kill her if they did!" my friends would argue.  "Whatever." was my clever retort.

And here's where it gets really embarrassing.  I solicited the third book (there are four, for those of you bright enough to steer clear, and each is longer than the previous) and read it in four days as well - all 700 pages.  But it wasn't until half way through the third book that a huge question popped into my head that I couldn't swat away.

Now, I don't claim to be a medical doctor or a vampire expert, and I realize that this is all purely fiction.  But I do fancy myself passingly familiar with basic biology and how the male, um, apparatus functions.  So, while reading a particularly steamy scene in the book, two thoughts collided:

1. Vampires' hearts don't beat.

2. I'm relatively sure that strong blood flow is essential for an erection.

Am I wrong? Do vampires have some other physiology that allows this particular... function?  All muscle? Magic? Mind-over-body?

Then there was a third thought:

3. How horribly weird and wrong am I for thinking these thoughts and then following them through... all the way to a blog post?!

Perhaps the fourth book explains it all.  I'll have to see.  But from where I stand right now, I remain thoroughly confused, both by the facts and my apparent willingness to discuss them with you.

Some Good-Natured Fun-Pokin'

At the end of a long-haul of a day, I was so pleased to wrap up my work by perusing this blog, passed along by a friend (who has a really cool company and blog).  HI-larious.  Seriously - if you need a good laugh (and who the hell doesn't?) you should take a gander.  Go ahead and dig back through the previous entries, too, because there're some real comedic nuggets.

Awkward Family Photos

You're welcome.

The Stuff of IF Legend

While I'm talking about other people's news, I thought I'd send some of you The Duchess's way.  You see, every once in a while, there comes a story - a story that is so improbable and outlandish that it is the stuff of legend.  Infertility legend.

And those of us who have been down that horrific, lonely road of "Dammit, I just want a kid! Is that so much to ask?!" both revere and loathe stories like this one.

On the one hand, they give us just enough logic-defying hope to keep going, to do just one more cycle, to ask for one more consult, one more ultrasound, to file just one more adoption form.  For the "baby who was still there, but hidden behind the one that had died" just before a D&C; for the woman who finally "just relaxes" and gets pregnant; for the urban myth woman who files her adoption paperwork and suddenly finds she's pregnant with no medical intervention; for the woman who's hail-mary specialist finally finds the illusive diagnosis and miracle drug that cures her infertility with a handful of magic beans.

On the other hand... dude, that never happens.  So please, for the love of all that is holy, stop TELLING ME ABOUT THEM!

The Duchess's battle with infertility reads largely like the rest of ours.  Lots of crap, then finally a baby, followed by some more crap.

But here's where it takes an interesting turn: Her last load of crap came with a surprise.  A miracle, to be sure.  But I won't ruin the surprise.  Go see for yourself.  And while you're there.  Give her a big hug and some space to freak out.  Because mind-blowing is just the tip of the iceberg.

Because She's a Bad-Ass

Alexa has some awesome news.  But I'm not one to spoil the punchline, so go over and see for yourself!

Apropos of Nothing

... Except, perhaps, want of a cohesive theme.

Vacation Hangover (hers, but somehow still mine)
My mom used to tell me that when I came back from visiting my grandparents, there was a bit of a "recovery" time, wherein I had to relearn the rules of being a civilized child who followed rules and was generally a peaceable member of society.  The word "spoiled" may have come up.

[enter sigh] She was right.  Hannah has been mostly good since her return, but there are clear signs of vacation hangover: a general grumpiness and refusal to listen, replacing it instead with whines and pouts.

I think it has less to do with anyone [grandma] spoiling anyone [Banana], and more to do with the harsh reality of coming back to the real world.  And honestly, I think we all do this - four or forty.

Yesterday was pretty harsh.  Primarily because Caroline had a super-rough night and I was operating on very little sleep.  Little sleep + cranky kids + neglected work = mom with cartoony squiggles and swear words over her head.

But by the end of the evening it seemed that Hannah received the message: You home now, all the old rules apply.  I think we're back on track.  [clearly, knocking wood]

Wedded Bliss
Yesterday marked eight years since Todd and I were married.  In a fit of celebration, he worked all day while I (grumpily) watched the kids.  The girls and I ate spaghetti and got ready for bed, and when he came home he at microwaved leftovers.  Then he and I watched Deadliest Catch (together), and then a baseball game and reality TV (separately).  Later, we crashed with some mutual "love 'ya"s and pats on the back.

I know.  Steamy, right?

But it was perfect, for us.  I think romance is highly overrated.  Comfort and deep love is much, much better.  Plus, we're going out to a fancy restaurant on Friday night while friends watch the girls.  We'll try and do it up right then.

Severed Lifeline
My church closed.  Yep, closed.  Completely out of the blue, I received an email from the church conference saying they church was closed and that the day before was our last service.  Come get any belongings, thankyouverymuch.

I'm really upset about this.  The church had been a big source of support this year, including financial gifts and donations that were really helping keep us afloat.  Not to mention the massive help of prayers and knowing that there's a larger family out there that will hold you up when you need it.

I feel like there must be something else going on.  The church was only 1.5 years old.  I know the Methodist Church usually allots five years for new churches before the expect them to have their act together.  I thought the pastor was great, the congregation supportive, and in a tiny community like ours, they really played an important role in our lives.

Starting Sunday, I'll have to start my search anew.  Any suggestions for a relatively progressive denomination?

Summer Television
One thing I love about the largely abyssmal summer TV lineup is this: the excuse to watch crap!  Trashy TV is quickly becoming my favorite guilty pleasure.

Wipeout
You really have to watch this - it's hands-down the best stress-relief out there.  Last season, once I forced myself to stop feeling sorry for the contestants (they VOLUNTEER!  and they have a shot a $50K!), I loved every second of the exploitative falls, slips, and periously dangerous head-shots.  This year, the courses are much improved, and the comedic comentary is hilarious.  Even my kids like watching it (with a preceding explanation that it's only okay to laugh at people who fall if a. they're on a game show, or b. you checked to make sure they're okay and stop before you hurt their feelings).

The Bachelorette
I wholeheartedly blame my friend Em for making me watch this.  She also hooked me on I Hate Greenbeans (a recap blog) which is written by a real-life friend of hers.  I generally disagree with the premise of the show and I think the intentionally pick at least a half-crop of losers and drama kings, but man, there's no denying that the show is hilarious!  I laugh out loud every time and usually try to explain to Todd what was so funny, except it never fully translates and I end up sounding like an idiot.  But who cares.  Funny is funny.

The Real Housewives of New Jersey
You can't make this sh*t up.  Fabulous, fabulous, fabulous!  Completely inappropriate in every single way, and yet, 100% addictive.  The "characters" are so over the top that I literally sit there with my mouth hanging open.  And yet, each one of them has deeply redemptive moments that make me tear up!  (I know! How humiliating to cry over crazy people!)  Once you get over the wrongness of it, it's so very, very right.

In the realm of less trashy, I'm also watching Burn Notice (Magnum PI for the new millennium), Saving Grace, Royal Pains, Deadliest Catch ("The crab show" as Hannah calls it), Ice Road Truckers (actually scary this year), True Blood, In Plain Sight, Bizarre Foods (he's actually endearing), and Man vs. Food.

Am I missing any Must-Sees?

I Know Sexy

Last night, as I was drifting off, Todd came a callin'.  Which was great.  Except for one small thing: I happened to have a church hymn stuck in my head.  In terms of un-sexy, this is probably second only to random Freudian images of your dad in swim trunks popping into your head unbidden.  Okay, maybe there are a few other items that qualify as equally un-sexy, but still: Church hymn is right up there.

After a few attempts to dispell the song by saying "no-church-songs, no-church-songs!" over and over in my head (truly, not an effective method, in case you're wondering), I decided to give up.  Fortunately for me, I didn't really know the words so it was mostly just music floating around up there.  I went for the "look away" approach instead and focused, um, elsewhere.

This approach was much more effective.  You know, just in case you ever need to know what to do in similar circumstances. 

Who's got your back?!  ME!

Another Day Older, and...

(Come on! Sing it with me!)

... deeper in debt!

Ahhahhaha! Ah. ha. hem. Well, it was at least mildly funny in my head when I thought of it last night.

Yesterday was my birthday.  And I worked.  But that's okay, because on Sunday we had a wee shindig.  And it was good, and basic, and involved a creek and some wine and some little girls with chapped hineys from sliding around in the creek.  It really doesn't get much better than that.  Well, for me at least.  I wore shorts, and thusly, saved my hiney.

And the fact that I had work to do on my actual birthday is a gift in and of itself.  Can I get an amen?!  Wish I had more of it.  Or rather, more consistency.  And better pay.  And benefits.  Wait, what was I saying?

Oh yes: Contentment.  It's a nice birthday present.  So thank you, powers that be.  Power that is.  What have you.

Todd celebrated my birthday by going to play poker.  Since he got the girls fed, bathed, and the dishes done before he left, I was quite okay with this.  It got even better when he called to say that two serious investors are looking to buy $1.5 mil in real estate over the coming months.

Being the recovering optimists we are, we both said, "Wow, that'll be nice.  If it, you know, doesn't turn to crap in our hands."  Track records and all.

So do me a favor and give me my gift a day late: say a little prayer that some of these opportunities that are dangling like proverbial carrots on a string actually come to something.  'Cause there's only so many days older we can afford.

And then John Quinonez Came Jumping Out of the Shadows...

I both love and am horrified by the ABC show "What Would You Do?"  I love the concept of the show, but I'm routinely horrified by the reactions (or lack thereof) of the people faced with these scenarios.

Apparently, I'm nosier than much of the population.  I have something in me that screams out for justice and not much impulse control when it comes to confronting others.  The other day, I found myself in a situation that begged for a camera, and my reaction was par for the course.

I took the girls to Target (hand to god, first time in months) to get Caroline a swimsuit ($5.99!!).  As we pulled into the parking lot, I spotted a space pretty close to the front.  Then I noticed two teenage boys doing something to the car next to me.  I turned off the car and got my bag together, watching them more closely the whole time.  The car's windows were rolled down about an inch (something we do all the time in Texas too keep the inside from becoming an inferno).  The boys were grabbing the panes and wiggling them, cupping their hands over their eyes to stare inside, and wrenching around the windshield wipers.

(Before I go on, let me take a moment to further set the scene: It's the middle of the day on a Thursday, we're in a brand-new Target parking lot with oodles of security cameras, and these boys don't look frightening at all.  In fact, I pretty sure I could take them, even with a baby on my hip.)

As I get the girls out of the car, I go out of my way to interfere with them - opening the doors widely, making them move, and generally giving them the 'ol skunk eye.  One of them goes back to the windshield wiper and starts pulling on it again.

"What are you guys doing?" I ask, with no disguise of my suspicion.

"We're just trying to get in the car," the one with the windshield wiper in his hand replies.

"Is it your car?" I ask.

"Oh, it's our friends."

"Then why don't you go ask him for the keys and permission to get in?"

"Well, he's real far back in there - so this is just easier."

"Why are you pulling on the wipers?"

"Um, I was gonna use it to unlock the door," he answers, motioning to the window - apparently planning to use it like a coat-hanger.

"No. I don't think so. You need to go find your friend and leave this car alone."

"Well, we're not trying to break in and steal anything if that's what you think."

"I don't care.  You need to stop," I answered, taking the girls with me into the store.

I proceeded right to a cashier and asked her for security.  She found a manager right away and I relayed the story.  She sent a security guard out and I went on with my shopping, trying hard not to think about what might happen to my car if the security guard didn't stick around to make sure they left.

A few minutes later in the check-out line, I saw the manager again.  She reported that the kids were still there monkeying with the car with the security guard arrived.  She thanked me for alerting them.  When I got out to my car, both the teens and the car they were picking at were gone.  And my car was unscathed.

I can't imagine reacting any other way.  Not only for the sake of whoever owned that vehicle, but also because my girls were there.  And watching.  And learning.  And now they know that it's not okay to let creeps get away with BS like that.  Especially when you're in a safe environment.

How 'bout you?  Would you have said anything?  Have you had any John Quinones moments lately?

Hey, Wassat?!

Yesterday I happened to be on my blog about to respond to a comment when I suddenly saw a floating pop-up ad!  It was a long banner that spanned most of the page and it followed as I scrolled.

I've heard that others have seen it, too.  I don't know what the heck it is or where it came from.  I'm trying to track it down, but I haven't seen it since.  If you see it, could you try and jot down any salient information and let me know?

Thank you,
Management

Might I Interest You...

... in an interview?

I've been mulling something over lately.  I feel like I've become a weeeee bit too boring here lately.  And while some of that is to be expected (what with the soul-grinding economic situation and eternal stress), I'd like to challenge myself to do better.  So I thought to myself, "Self, what do you like to do?  What are you good at?"  (Yep. I ended a sentence in a preposition.)

One of the things I love most about my job is the frequent opportunities to interview people.  I always learn something new, and it seems that those who believe they're not very interesting - even downright boring - provide some of the best quotes and anecdotes.

I'm good at interviewing.  I'm naturally curious (enough so that I have to police my own behavior when meeting new people so I don't come off like a cop in an interrogation room) and I love finding connections between people.  Sometimes that connection is through mutual relationships, other times it's their work, and others is a shared idea, goal, or belief.

What if I took this skill of mine and aimed it at my fellow bloggers?  Would you guys be interested in reading interviews with some of your favorite bloggers?  I know it may seem redundant, since bloggers are already discussing themselves on their blogs.  But I think people offer much different perspectives when they're the subject of an interview.  For one, the questions aren't their own.  And it removes a sliver of the self-censorship that's inherent in blogging.

What do you think? If I were to regularly interview other bloggers, would you read it?  And if so, who would be you top five interview-ee requests?