Gnumoon's Stuff

The Valle Crucis Horror

The creature shuffled through the forest, leaving slick, sickly puddles of slime on the fallen leaves. It had lived for many long days and nights undisturbed by man, sensed only in the darkest recesses of man’s nightmares. But not even monsters can exist forever, and this Lovecraft-esque abomination had reached the end of its path.

Using its last remaining strength, the eldritch thing raised what functioned as a head to the dappled canopy above and let out a low, guttural moan that silenced the forest. The crickets and moths watched, but said nothing, as the thing staggered once and then tumbled to the spongy ground. Its death was as horrifying as its life, and even years later nothing would grow in the spoiled earth where the monster fell.

In the hours and days that followed there wasn’t so much normal breakdown and decay as there was an oily putrification, the horror’s body becoming a stygian bog of steaming otherworldy humors. No crow dared approach, no opportunistic coyote neared. Maggots, finding themselves sufficiently gagged, gave the whole mess a wide berth. None would venture close.

And then my damn dog discovered and rolled in it.

It's a pity life can't be simple again

Sorry I haven't been posting the last few days- work has been so incredibly busy. ON the upside of that, though, I designed a logo/t-shirt/package that I REALLY like, as opposed to one that I have lukewarm feelings about. To a designer, getting a piece past inspection that you actually LIKE is a victory. I like it so much I may even share it with y'all later.

Well, We're about to hit the old dusty trail for the weekend- you guys have a good one! I'm sure I'll have stories galore upon my return. Stories and pictures that may or may not (but probably may) include fat drunk women in orange Confederate-flag bikini tops. (Hopefully not me or any in my party, though you never really know.)

Can you guess where we’re going this weekend? Let me leave this clue:

Corn won’t grow at all on rocky top,
Dirt’s too rocky by far.
That’s why all the folks on rocky top
Get their corn from a jar.

Dispatches from Iraq

I don’t usually express political views on this site; many know more and express it better than I ever could, plus whenever I try to make a point I end up sounding like a fool. Actually, that last part doesn’t just apply to political debate. Oh well.

Anyway- the point is  no matter which side of the fence you are on, there are thousands of Americans on foreign sand fighting and risking their lives every day. Nothing personalizes that fact like knowing one of them.

One of my best friends has a brother who is a doctor with the Air Force. (Actually, they are both doctors, and until I found out that they read this blog, I thought they were two of the smarter cats I’d ever met)
M. very recently got to Iraq where and is serving with doctors from other countries to provide medical services to the troops. (His here-to-there flight story puts my little plane tale to SHAME, by the way.)

In the wake of Katrina, Rita, and whatever the celebrity scandal du jour might be, this war has been washed from the headlines. One side says it is a good war and the liberal media won't cover it; one side says it is a bad war and the President is purposely keeping national attention away from it. I don't know the answer or the whole truth- hell, the most military experience I have comes from playing Battleship. The only thing I do know for certain is that there are lots of men and women far away from their homes and families, and they deserve our support. Thanks guys!

M. expressed it better than I could, so I’ll just post a closing quote from an email:
“It is an honor for us to be here helping the folks that are out there doing the fighting.  I sleep comfortably in my bed here knowing that they are out there every night protecting me. Remember them when you sleep comfortably in your beds back home.”

PS- This flamingo is stationed amongst the sandbagged trailers where the doctors live. Is there more truly American icon than a pink plastic bird outside a mobile home? I think not.
God bless America's combat flamingos!

 

Current Tune: The Globe, by Big Audio Dynamite
Quote OTD: From M.A.S.H. (BTW, have you ever read the words to that theme song? Wow.)
Charles: What is that odor?
Radar: Uh, north wind, cesspool, east wind, latrine.
Charles: The wind is from the south.
Radar: Oh, that's the kitchen.

From the Department of Redundancy Department

This just popped up on my Photoshop CS2 screen. Are they serious? It makes my head hurt a little bit.

The General commands your attention

This is General, the lovely mascot for The Citadel. They capitalize the “The” part, not me. It’s The Citadel. This is The Citadel’s bulldog.

From now on I want to be referred to as The Gnumoon, as in, “It is lunchtime, and The Gnumoon would like for you to be a lamb and fetch her a yummy hummus pita with sprouts and black olives.”

I think they call it that because it is more commanding and directed that way. “Many a strapping young lad becomes a real man at The Citadel” sounds much better than “My son couldn’t get his shit together so we sent him to the Citadel.” I know people who work there; I annoy them by referring to it only as “The ‘Del.”

***segue***

In the wee small hours of Friday morning I packed my toiletries into my luggage for The Citadel trip. As I turned to zip the bag, the sleeve of my sweatshirt caught on a green bottle of perfume, sending it tumbling to the floor. It exploded into a zillion chunky shards of thick glass and a pungent cloud of fragrance. (My sleep-tainted initial thought was that it would take a long time to drill through the glass with a diamond-tipped blade. I know this because I once made a lamp out of an empty Grey Goose bottle. But I digress.)

I cleaned up as best I could in my soporific state, sopping up syrupy liquid and glinting glass with a nearby towel. Not wanting to put the towel in the wash, where it would distribute the glass throughout the laundry, I tossed it into the bathtub.

And promptly forgot about the whole mess.

After returning home around 4:00 am this morning from Charleston, then attending a picnic and shooting a soccer game it occurred to me that a nice long soak would be just the thing. I gave little thought to the towel in the tub; I chucked it into wash and ran the water.

As I was relaxing in the (oddly perfumed) water, contentedly reading my book, I became aware of a painful sensation in my hindquarters, like tiny teeth biting my derriere. Only then did I recall the late-night cologne catastrophe.

Nothing ruins a good soak like having a glassy ass.

PS- Check out this awesome picture over on Blue Ridge Blog.

Currently Listening To: Wave of Mutilation, by The Pixies
Quote OTD: It has always been the prerogative of children and half wits to point out that the emperor has no clothes. But the half wit remains a half wit and the emperor remains an emperor. -Neil Gaiman

Mobile Bloggin' from Charleston

We’re on the move again. In Charleston S.C.…I wish it was a vacation, but alas, it is for work. Although, I will take two days of work in Charleston over two days of work in the office. No choice, really.

Not much new to report from here. I finally got to finish American Gods in the car on the way down here- great read. We’re heading down to the Market tonight for dinner and drinks, so I think I’ll hit the bookstore there on the corner and pick up Good Omens, on Cecily’s advice, and to continue my Gaiman-themed week.

I’m out like a fat kid in dodgeball. Y’all have a fabulous Friday evening.

Quote OTD: In honor of our evening “out,” and of the book I just finished…here's Mad Sweeney’s toast:

“May the storm pass over us, and leave us hale and unharmed.”

I myself am ... strange and unusual

And it turns out that after all these years, I’m still the weird kid in class. Look at this picture and tell me what you see.

Let’s have a glance at Gnumoon’s “weird kid in class” rap sheet:

First Grade: Librarian allows Gnumoon full access to the library after realizing that GM reads on a sixth-grade level and is not adept at socializing with the other children. Gnumoon is quite happy with this arrangement because the other children are neanderthals and hiding in the library gets her out of going to gym with them.

Second Grade: Teacher realizes that Gnumoon sees the world differently from the “normal” children. Gnumoon is hauled in and given tests that indicate she should be taking classes for gifted kids. …And the alienation from normalcy and lifelong social acceptance begins.

Fourth Grade: Gnumoon develops a deep and abiding love for the work of Roahl Dahl and Stephen King and begins keeping reptiles as companion animals. She also perfects a way of breaking crayons in half and expertly using a straightened paper clip to tether two mismatched halves together, thus creating a bi-colored supercrayola. Life is good, and weird.

Fifth Grade: Gnumoon develops her first crush on a boy; boy dubs her a “weird freak.” It isn’t until the following summer that it dawns on her that this is no compliment. Always the arty kid, Gnumoon begins to realize that no artistic endeavor, no matter how impressive, will make her as popular as being a bubbly cheerleader who color-coordinates her socks and t-shirts to her ESPRIT bags.

Sixth-Eighth Grades: Unabashed individuality crumbles into pudgy adolescent self-doubt and loathing. These dark years are spent hiding from cruel peers- reading, writing,  and painting   in silence while trying to look and sound enough like the rest of the crowd to blend in completely. Social camouflage is all the rage.

The other kids remember the former weirdness, however, and Gnumoon’s tryout for the part of “one of the crowd” is wholeheartedly rejected.  (Although, in retrospect, dressing in a Starfleet uniform for Halloween probably didn't help)

High School: A modicum of social acceptance is received thanks to the playing of a genetic “Grow out of baby fat into some curves” card. Gnumoon is still odd on the inside, where it counts, and tries hard to keep it hidden. Jock boyfriend? Check! Football games and popular friends? Check and Check!

College: Gnumoon keeps a lid on her bizarre nature except when it is called for in school projects, artistic endeavors,  and the like. Perhaps she learned to channel the weirdness in a socially acceptable way? But no...

So basically, I was always different from the other kids and hated how that felt. Today I was in one of my graduate school classes, and we were doing these perception tests. I saw EVERY DAMN ONE OF THEM differently than everyone else did. They all saw one thing, and I saw something else.

Instead of being happy that I took a different path, I was mortified that I would be excluded, AGAIN, for my deviance from the group.  I saw the “Oh shit, that new girl over there is weird” look, and I recognized it from the past. It makes me feel every bit as alienated now as when it first happened back in 1984 or so. *sigh* (Although, in retrospect, dressing in a Rush t-shirt for class probably didn't help)

Ps- Look at this picture and tell me what you see. I saw something different than everyone else in the room, and even though I came up with the “correct” answer immediately, I would have rather been wrong and been accepted as part of the group.

Currently Listening to: My self-obsessed "pick on the fat/weird/nerdy/bookish kid" whining. Eh, screw it...I'm going to go watch reruns of Star Trek on Spike now. Engage!
Quote OTD: From Lydia Deetz, in Beetlejuice (I always identified the most with Winona Ryder's strange characters in 80's movies- Lydia, Veronica Sawyer, Kim):
Lydia: I myself am... strange and unusual.

CALVINBALL!

Normally, I don’t post pictures that I take for work. But this one was too funny…I don’t even remember taking it- but when I loaded the card onto my computer, there it was: a player about to be trucked, Hobbes-style. Remember in the Calvin & Hobbes comics that when Calvin came home from school Hobbes would be lying in wait to “greet” him with a tiger pounce? Well, that immediately sprang to mind when I was looking through the 700 (!) pics that I took on Saturday.

Ps- This Calvin & Hobbes picture comes from the back cover of The Authoritative Calvin & Hobbes, and is protected by the fair use laws.  I wouldn’t want Mr. Watterson to be pissed at me for posting his work without permission, so I'm pointing that out. (Since I know he frequents this blog)

OBAY JAYSUS or PAYRISH IN HAYULL

Ah, the crisp fall air and the changing of the seasons has brought back the students to this quaint mountain town and with them has come the fire-and-brimstone preachers.

I can’t stand these guys…a few times a year, without fail, you are walking on campus minding your own business, when one of these guys comes at you out of NOWHERE, shouting “Whore! ONLY WHORES WEAR JEANS!” and then starts screaming out all the reasons that you’re on the highway to HELL (but not in a cool Angus Young way). And it’s pronounced HAY-ULL, as in, “All you harlots will burn in HAYULL for WAYURIN TITE JAYNES and not OBAYIN JAYSUS!”

I have no clue why they all have the same accent, but they do. Come to think of it, it might be the same guy over and over. I never look at him, I just duck and hurry my whorin’, jeans-wearin’ ass outta there.

So here is one of 'em. I shot this picture from the safety of my office window, through the lobby of the building. I don’t think he can get up here to hand me his pamphlets and pollute the air up here with his  crap. I guess the “jeans = eternal damnation” only applies to women. According to this website it does, anyway.

People like this are why others (specifically: cynical college students) think that Christians are idiots. I’ve personally always wondered if these horrid street preacher types were actually playing for the other team, as it were. They certainly turn off enough people to Christianity...ponderous, eh?

Currently Listening to: Hell in a Bucket, by the Grateful Dead. My iTunes is on Shuffle…how randomly hilarious.

Max wags his nub and hopes you'll help his friends

There are some truly innocent victims of Katrina...the pets and livestock left behind to fend for themselves. I look at Max and think about how sad I would be if we had to leave him behind, and how confused he would be to suddenly be alone.

If you haven't given to hurricane relief efforts yet and you have something to spare, I encourage you to "paws" and think about how some people have lost not only their homes and jobs, but their best furry friends as well.

I'd imagine that those people really need the love and affection of companion animals right about now, so I'm helping out as much as I can (I'm a new ASPCA member!), and I hope some of you guys will too. There are some links on the side of the page, or you can click here.

Max the dog approves of this post with a resounding "bwoof."

ps- the dog in this picture isn't Max, it's the poster-dog for the ASPCA ad. Max is cuter, in my most humble and unbiased opinion.