Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Loser fact about Stacey #37
I sometimes buy songs exclusively so I can imagine scenarios in which someone is singing them to me.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Drunk, Dancing, Danish babies...
Working the night shift has made me aware of a few key facts. - Nighttime is the time of crazies, soft core porn viewers, drunks, and apparently the Danish (and any combination therein).
You might ask, "How, Stacey, have you come by this interesting and important knowledge?" And I will tell you.
Our story begins with our young ingenue, (name rhymes with Lacey Super), working her night shift from 11pm-7am one week night/morning. Normally this shift is very relaxing and interesting for Lacey, because she has time to get her work done, catch up a bit on her homework and chat with the local insomniacs about deep and insightful things, like cookies and bedding.
Now in this lovely hotel where Lacey is employed, there resides many Danish workers. These men and women are a variety of ages and have many varied personalities. Some of them just pass by the desk with a just a quick "good night" and/or a "good morning", sometimes they ask for keys and sometimes they want milk (both requests that Lacey is more than happy to grant). However there are the select few that have other, much more interesting requests such as, "do you know of any bar thats open at 3 am?", "could you put lotion on my new viking tattoo?", "are you married", "do you want to marry me?", and "do you know how to dance like a Danish?". Usually these questions are accompanied by a faint odor of Budweiser and/or a request for a hug.
Now, there are many stories that can be told about pretty much any of those colorful questions, but I chose to focus this story on the "do you know how to dance like a Danish?".
So, to continue, as Lacey was working her weeknight shift a man came into the lobby looking distinctly like he had been trying to understand the "irish" state of mind. This man she had seen before as he had asked her to marry him on a number of occasions (twice). Lacey would have said yes, had he not been extremely pissed drunk everytime he asked. So she knew he was drunk because of the fact that he was talking to her (when sober he never met her eye, probably something to do with the fact that he made a fool of himself while drunk and couldn't face her sober). They made eye contact and he made his way over to her (or to the liquor that was near to where she was), and made a purchase of Budweiser. He then said, "Do you know how to dance like a Danish?". Lacey of course said no, she was not privy to the dancing rituals of Denmark or pastries. His reply to this was, "Its like this.." and proceeded to dance like a Danish.
Apparently Danish dancers look like riverdancers having a seisure while imitating leprechauns.
As he finished he said, "I am going to go outside for-to drink this beer and have a smoke, when I am done, I will teach this dance to you, yes?" Lacey then said, "Ok, but I am working so we might not get a chance to do that." He seemed understanding of this and went outside for to drink his beer. When he returned, it seemed he had forgetten that he had promised to teach Lacey the dancing ways of his people, and simply asked her to move to Denmark with him, he then went back upstairs to his room.
Well dang, Lacey lamented, its always the drunk or disease ridden boys who come on to her, she was very used to this, but she wished for more. One day she will find a man free of penis diseases who will also be free of alcohol. What a glorious day that will be. There will be a parade. Or at least some streemers and a cake.
So this is where our story ends. I just want to say however, that this story is not meant to make fun of the Danish, or the guests at the hotel in which I work. I merely want to educate those who do not understand how the Danish dance. Because this could save others embarrassment when at a club in Denmark. No one wants to further the stereotype that Americans are ignorant to other cultures.
Click on the title of this post in order to be schooled in the area of Danish dancing.
You might ask, "How, Stacey, have you come by this interesting and important knowledge?" And I will tell you.
Our story begins with our young ingenue, (name rhymes with Lacey Super), working her night shift from 11pm-7am one week night/morning. Normally this shift is very relaxing and interesting for Lacey, because she has time to get her work done, catch up a bit on her homework and chat with the local insomniacs about deep and insightful things, like cookies and bedding.
Now in this lovely hotel where Lacey is employed, there resides many Danish workers. These men and women are a variety of ages and have many varied personalities. Some of them just pass by the desk with a just a quick "good night" and/or a "good morning", sometimes they ask for keys and sometimes they want milk (both requests that Lacey is more than happy to grant). However there are the select few that have other, much more interesting requests such as, "do you know of any bar thats open at 3 am?", "could you put lotion on my new viking tattoo?", "are you married", "do you want to marry me?", and "do you know how to dance like a Danish?". Usually these questions are accompanied by a faint odor of Budweiser and/or a request for a hug.
Now, there are many stories that can be told about pretty much any of those colorful questions, but I chose to focus this story on the "do you know how to dance like a Danish?".
So, to continue, as Lacey was working her weeknight shift a man came into the lobby looking distinctly like he had been trying to understand the "irish" state of mind. This man she had seen before as he had asked her to marry him on a number of occasions (twice). Lacey would have said yes, had he not been extremely pissed drunk everytime he asked. So she knew he was drunk because of the fact that he was talking to her (when sober he never met her eye, probably something to do with the fact that he made a fool of himself while drunk and couldn't face her sober). They made eye contact and he made his way over to her (or to the liquor that was near to where she was), and made a purchase of Budweiser. He then said, "Do you know how to dance like a Danish?". Lacey of course said no, she was not privy to the dancing rituals of Denmark or pastries. His reply to this was, "Its like this.." and proceeded to dance like a Danish.
Apparently Danish dancers look like riverdancers having a seisure while imitating leprechauns.
As he finished he said, "I am going to go outside for-to drink this beer and have a smoke, when I am done, I will teach this dance to you, yes?" Lacey then said, "Ok, but I am working so we might not get a chance to do that." He seemed understanding of this and went outside for to drink his beer. When he returned, it seemed he had forgetten that he had promised to teach Lacey the dancing ways of his people, and simply asked her to move to Denmark with him, he then went back upstairs to his room.
Well dang, Lacey lamented, its always the drunk or disease ridden boys who come on to her, she was very used to this, but she wished for more. One day she will find a man free of penis diseases who will also be free of alcohol. What a glorious day that will be. There will be a parade. Or at least some streemers and a cake.
So this is where our story ends. I just want to say however, that this story is not meant to make fun of the Danish, or the guests at the hotel in which I work. I merely want to educate those who do not understand how the Danish dance. Because this could save others embarrassment when at a club in Denmark. No one wants to further the stereotype that Americans are ignorant to other cultures.
Click on the title of this post in order to be schooled in the area of Danish dancing.
Friday, February 4, 2011
The Blog Post That I Posted From Work...
Hello Morning World!!!
Forgive me, for I have neglected you. It has been over 2 and a half months since my last blog post. Unfortunately (or fortunately - its really how you look at it) I do not have time to tell tales of my misadventures at the moment, for I have but a brief moment to write at this point in time. I only come to you today to ensure that I have not forgotten you and will be writing soon.
Stay tuned...
It's gonna be a good one...
Hopefully....
Maybe not...
Don't judge me.
PSST! - click on the title to this blog - I have a secret for you. :)
Forgive me, for I have neglected you. It has been over 2 and a half months since my last blog post. Unfortunately (or fortunately - its really how you look at it) I do not have time to tell tales of my misadventures at the moment, for I have but a brief moment to write at this point in time. I only come to you today to ensure that I have not forgotten you and will be writing soon.
Stay tuned...
It's gonna be a good one...
Hopefully....
Maybe not...
Don't judge me.
PSST! - click on the title to this blog - I have a secret for you. :)
Saturday, November 13, 2010
These Days by The Black Keys
"These Days"
My hand to God
I didn't mean to
After all
Look what we've been through
Men come in different shades
That's how we're made
The little house on Ellis Drive
Is where I felt most alive
The oak tree covered that old Ford
I miss it Lord, I miss it Lord
These blood red eyes
Don't see so good
But what's worse is if they could
Would I change my ways?
Wasted times and broken dreams
Violent colors so obscene
It's all I see these days
These days
Watch what you say
The devil is listenin'
He's got ears that you
Wouldn't believe
And brother once you go to him
It's your soul you can never retrieve
These blood red eyes
Don't see so good
But what's worse is if they could
Would I change my ways?
Wasted times and broken dreams
Violent colors so obscene
It's all I see these days
These days
(click on title to hear song)
My hand to God
I didn't mean to
After all
Look what we've been through
Men come in different shades
That's how we're made
The little house on Ellis Drive
Is where I felt most alive
The oak tree covered that old Ford
I miss it Lord, I miss it Lord
These blood red eyes
Don't see so good
But what's worse is if they could
Would I change my ways?
Wasted times and broken dreams
Violent colors so obscene
It's all I see these days
These days
Watch what you say
The devil is listenin'
He's got ears that you
Wouldn't believe
And brother once you go to him
It's your soul you can never retrieve
These blood red eyes
Don't see so good
But what's worse is if they could
Would I change my ways?
Wasted times and broken dreams
Violent colors so obscene
It's all I see these days
These days
(click on title to hear song)
Monday, October 18, 2010
The Search
"When I got rid of God-belief, a new thing happened. I realized I wasn’t simply making a factual claim. Asking whether God existed wasn’t like asking if there was a box of crackers in the pantry. I found out quickly that when I said, “There’s no God.” I was making a claim about all of reality. When I believed in God, the world around me had purpose. It had been carefully orchestrated and it moved forward toward a goal. Stepping away from God meant an end to all that. In leaving God aside, a new vision of the world emerged. Everything around me and within me became mechanical, unthinking, and chaotic."
"Evolution too can be quite beautiful—in the words of one recent book it’s “the greatest show on earth”—but I found my own formation deeply troubling. The excessive greed and gluttony, violence and lust etched into my DNA often made me miserable. It wouldn’t be so bad if fear and overeating, promiscuity and aggression were healthy; but these were not signs of a good life. They were obstacles. They consistently made my life miserable. On the face of it, I found I wasn’t a mere animal. I recognized that I was an animal preprogrammed to think and act in self-destructive ways, ways that didn’t care about “me”—only about the promotion and replication of my genes."
"I may accomplish all I wish. I may pursue and achieve “the good life”, but the end has been scripted and it’s not gracious. I will read my books, I will take my pictures, and then the world which handed me my out-of-control body will take it back again—and it will do it without thought or remorse.
Again, I’m not a depressed person, and I bet you’re not either, but I recognized that I was deceiving myself if I didn’t own the real and pressing problem of death. Everything around me was dying. My wife would die. My sons would die. Everyone in my family would die. Everyone in my city and my culture would die. Everyone on this planet would die, and the human race fairs no better. The earth will die when the sun grows to an enormous size and engulfs our world. Our solar system will die when the sun exhausts its remaining energy. The entire natural order will eventually die as our universe turns all its remaining gas into stars and those star inevitably burn out. Entropy holds the reigns, and in the distant future all that will remain of our once beautiful cosmos will be a dark, thinning gas."
"I realized that death was a thief, and it was robbing me now of all the significance, all the meaning I could hope to find. Everything I might want to build was already debris, for when I asked the question, “What should I do with my life? What should I care about?” The answer that came screaming back at me was, “It doesn’t matter. It will all disappear.”"
"I consistently hit this spot where I recognized that the only hope for myself, my wife, my sons, my friends, my culture to transcend death and bondage to the chemicals within us was help from something separate from the blind, degenerating natural order. There was nothing any of us could do to create a lasting life or freedom.
We need a soul"
"Of course, you don’t need to actually believe in God to make this step. Many of the wisest and most careful thinkers I know reject belief in God. They hold that life is absurd, but many of them continue to look with hope—and this seems to me the most rational place to be. Come down where you will, I find it ridiculous to pretend like God’s existence makes no difference at all. Everything in my experiences scream out that we should devote our best energies and thinking to looking for a God."
"Eventually I put it all together and I concluded, if love is real, if freedom is real, if lasting significance is possible—God must be real. Only a God-like being could care about me and those I love. Only a God could choose to infuse us all with a life that is more than chemicals spinning as they will. Only a personality can see our natural plight, can understand that everything we build, every love we have is crumbling before us. Only a being with considerable strength can mercifully change our natural course. Only a God could transform the hellish condition in which I initially found myself. Death and genetics are immensely powerful, and it would take something with enormous muscle and compassion to push back the course of nature so everyone I cared for might really live."
"I lost nothing by seeking a God who cared for me, but I would lose everything I cared for if that God was not there."
- Debris
Extremely touching essay about the search for God - Look it up and read it. - and these are only a few excerpts! :)
The World Spins Madly On by The Weepies
Woke up and wished that I was dead
With an aching in my head
I lay motionless in bed
I thought of you and where you'd gone
and let the world spin madly on
Everything that I said I'd do
Like make the world brand new
And take the time for you
I just got lost and slept right through the dawn
And the world spins madly on
I let the day go by
I always say goodbye
I watch the stars from my window sill
The whole world is moving and I'm standing still
Woke up and wished that I was dead
With an aching in my head
I lay motionless in bed
The night is here and the day is gone
And the world spins madly on
I thought of you and where you'd gone
And the world spins madly on.
"Evolution too can be quite beautiful—in the words of one recent book it’s “the greatest show on earth”—but I found my own formation deeply troubling. The excessive greed and gluttony, violence and lust etched into my DNA often made me miserable. It wouldn’t be so bad if fear and overeating, promiscuity and aggression were healthy; but these were not signs of a good life. They were obstacles. They consistently made my life miserable. On the face of it, I found I wasn’t a mere animal. I recognized that I was an animal preprogrammed to think and act in self-destructive ways, ways that didn’t care about “me”—only about the promotion and replication of my genes."
"I may accomplish all I wish. I may pursue and achieve “the good life”, but the end has been scripted and it’s not gracious. I will read my books, I will take my pictures, and then the world which handed me my out-of-control body will take it back again—and it will do it without thought or remorse.
Again, I’m not a depressed person, and I bet you’re not either, but I recognized that I was deceiving myself if I didn’t own the real and pressing problem of death. Everything around me was dying. My wife would die. My sons would die. Everyone in my family would die. Everyone in my city and my culture would die. Everyone on this planet would die, and the human race fairs no better. The earth will die when the sun grows to an enormous size and engulfs our world. Our solar system will die when the sun exhausts its remaining energy. The entire natural order will eventually die as our universe turns all its remaining gas into stars and those star inevitably burn out. Entropy holds the reigns, and in the distant future all that will remain of our once beautiful cosmos will be a dark, thinning gas."
"I realized that death was a thief, and it was robbing me now of all the significance, all the meaning I could hope to find. Everything I might want to build was already debris, for when I asked the question, “What should I do with my life? What should I care about?” The answer that came screaming back at me was, “It doesn’t matter. It will all disappear.”"
"I consistently hit this spot where I recognized that the only hope for myself, my wife, my sons, my friends, my culture to transcend death and bondage to the chemicals within us was help from something separate from the blind, degenerating natural order. There was nothing any of us could do to create a lasting life or freedom.
We need a soul"
"Of course, you don’t need to actually believe in God to make this step. Many of the wisest and most careful thinkers I know reject belief in God. They hold that life is absurd, but many of them continue to look with hope—and this seems to me the most rational place to be. Come down where you will, I find it ridiculous to pretend like God’s existence makes no difference at all. Everything in my experiences scream out that we should devote our best energies and thinking to looking for a God."
"Eventually I put it all together and I concluded, if love is real, if freedom is real, if lasting significance is possible—God must be real. Only a God-like being could care about me and those I love. Only a God could choose to infuse us all with a life that is more than chemicals spinning as they will. Only a personality can see our natural plight, can understand that everything we build, every love we have is crumbling before us. Only a being with considerable strength can mercifully change our natural course. Only a God could transform the hellish condition in which I initially found myself. Death and genetics are immensely powerful, and it would take something with enormous muscle and compassion to push back the course of nature so everyone I cared for might really live."
"I lost nothing by seeking a God who cared for me, but I would lose everything I cared for if that God was not there."
- Debris
Extremely touching essay about the search for God - Look it up and read it. - and these are only a few excerpts! :)
The World Spins Madly On by The Weepies
Woke up and wished that I was dead
With an aching in my head
I lay motionless in bed
I thought of you and where you'd gone
and let the world spin madly on
Everything that I said I'd do
Like make the world brand new
And take the time for you
I just got lost and slept right through the dawn
And the world spins madly on
I let the day go by
I always say goodbye
I watch the stars from my window sill
The whole world is moving and I'm standing still
Woke up and wished that I was dead
With an aching in my head
I lay motionless in bed
The night is here and the day is gone
And the world spins madly on
I thought of you and where you'd gone
And the world spins madly on.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
I'm in the Twilight Zone!
So. I have this affliction called - sleepiusthroughphilosophyclassitus. It has a devistating effect on my ability to be awake in order to make it to my philosophy class. Oh how it haunts my days. If only I were normal, like all the other eager school children, ready to be taught and learn knowledge...But alas, sleepiusthroughphilosophyclassitus, or STPC as I like to call it, prevents this from being so.
The reason I am finally coming out about my disease is that I recently decided to battle this terrible illness; who am I if not strong enough to wage war with my harrowing weaknesses!? So with this renewed strength in my resolve today, I set off for my philosophy class that starts at 7pm. Only, as I made it to outside the room, I discovered that there were people already in my class! Watching a black and white movie and reveling in the being-in-classness that I was not enjoying. How could this be, I thought?! I was early, in order to procure notes from the last couple of classes that I had missed due to STPC! Surely I was just a little too early, I reasoned, so I therefore set off embarrassingly down the hallway, digging into my bag to find my syllabus. This would surely set things straight for me. Only, it did not. Since when was my class on Mondays, Wednesdays AND Fridays? and how long had my class started at 6pm? I must have the wrong syllabus, or else the teacher must have just handed out a basic one for all his classes. If my class had started at 6, my STPC must have put me more off track than I thought! Too embarrassed to walk into class if it was almost over, I trekked to the library to make things clearer.
At the library I found a cosy computer next to the wall in which to do my investigating. After logging in, I found the link to my philosophy class and discovered that I had been correct - class was at 7pm. This was good news, I was not crazy after all, but, who then was in my classroom? The thought came to me that maybe the teacher had cancelled class today or otherwise moved it...either the place or the time. Convinced that any self respecting teacher would send a reminder email to all his students, I checked my school email account to confirm my suspicions. But he hadn't sent an email. Not one! My only email from this teacher was a link to the reading we were supposed to have read today, which as another symptom of STPC, I had not done. I was now extremely confused. I had gone to the same room as before, at the same time as before and yet, nothing was as it was before!
After exhausting all my efforts on the trusty school computer, I determined that I would head back to the classroom. Maybe I could get there in time for the class to be dismissed and ask one of my fellow students what in the world was happening. I was just in time! The class was leaving as I got back around 7:22pm, so I hurried to catch up to someone I recognized. I didn't recognize anyone! Even the teacher that left the classroom was distinctly more geriatric than my memories of the attractive 30 something teacher of before.
I decided to call it quits. I had no clue what happened and I was too distraught over missing my Philosophy class yet again to even try catching up to anyone else. I must now gather the courage to email my teacher and explain my STPC to him and my twilight zone experience. Hopefully he will be understanding of my plight.
The reason I am finally coming out about my disease is that I recently decided to battle this terrible illness; who am I if not strong enough to wage war with my harrowing weaknesses!? So with this renewed strength in my resolve today, I set off for my philosophy class that starts at 7pm. Only, as I made it to outside the room, I discovered that there were people already in my class! Watching a black and white movie and reveling in the being-in-classness that I was not enjoying. How could this be, I thought?! I was early, in order to procure notes from the last couple of classes that I had missed due to STPC! Surely I was just a little too early, I reasoned, so I therefore set off embarrassingly down the hallway, digging into my bag to find my syllabus. This would surely set things straight for me. Only, it did not. Since when was my class on Mondays, Wednesdays AND Fridays? and how long had my class started at 6pm? I must have the wrong syllabus, or else the teacher must have just handed out a basic one for all his classes. If my class had started at 6, my STPC must have put me more off track than I thought! Too embarrassed to walk into class if it was almost over, I trekked to the library to make things clearer.
At the library I found a cosy computer next to the wall in which to do my investigating. After logging in, I found the link to my philosophy class and discovered that I had been correct - class was at 7pm. This was good news, I was not crazy after all, but, who then was in my classroom? The thought came to me that maybe the teacher had cancelled class today or otherwise moved it...either the place or the time. Convinced that any self respecting teacher would send a reminder email to all his students, I checked my school email account to confirm my suspicions. But he hadn't sent an email. Not one! My only email from this teacher was a link to the reading we were supposed to have read today, which as another symptom of STPC, I had not done. I was now extremely confused. I had gone to the same room as before, at the same time as before and yet, nothing was as it was before!
After exhausting all my efforts on the trusty school computer, I determined that I would head back to the classroom. Maybe I could get there in time for the class to be dismissed and ask one of my fellow students what in the world was happening. I was just in time! The class was leaving as I got back around 7:22pm, so I hurried to catch up to someone I recognized. I didn't recognize anyone! Even the teacher that left the classroom was distinctly more geriatric than my memories of the attractive 30 something teacher of before.
I decided to call it quits. I had no clue what happened and I was too distraught over missing my Philosophy class yet again to even try catching up to anyone else. I must now gather the courage to email my teacher and explain my STPC to him and my twilight zone experience. Hopefully he will be understanding of my plight.
Dedicated to Meredith...
Today, while in my car listening to wonderful music, I came across a song that had one lyric that made me feel very uncomfortable, and thus reminded me of Meredith - an awesomely amazing friend of mine. This particular lyric I heard, well, it really speaks of friendship and love and devotion. So it inspired me to find other songs with this same lyric...
Each of the songs below has one lyric in common, sometimes its the first lyric, sometimes its hidden within the song. Its a beautiful tribute to stalkers...uh...friendship everywhere.
Girls Aloud – The Loving Kind
Peter Frampton – Show me the Way
Santa Claus is Coming to Town
Idina Menzel – So Beautiful
Lowest of the Low – Eternal Fatalist
Each of the songs below has one lyric in common, sometimes its the first lyric, sometimes its hidden within the song. Its a beautiful tribute to stalkers...uh...friendship everywhere.
Girls Aloud – The Loving Kind
Peter Frampton – Show me the Way
Santa Claus is Coming to Town
Idina Menzel – So Beautiful
Lowest of the Low – Eternal Fatalist
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