Gnumoon's Stuff

Cultural exchange

How do you explain Americanisms to people who aren’t from around here? Tonight in class we were talking about where Twinkies come from, and someone mentioned that they’d had a Twinkie/Cool Whip cake, and we remarked that it was a “white trash” food if one ever existed. A girl in the class from Iran (who has only been in this country for a few months) industriously wrote down “white trash” on an index card and then asked what it was.

How do you explain something like that? I started to explain, then stopped. Then again. And again. What is the definition of “white trash”? The group could come up with characteristics, but no definitions that would appease her curiosity. What I finally said was: “White trash” is a slang term for a group of people who are too lazy to succeed in life, and instead take the easy way out (eating Twinkies instead of healthier options was the example given). They may not be stupid, but they come across that way because they are uneducated and prone to fighting.” She looked at me, absorbing my words, and replied, “Oh yes, we have those people. We call them “easy-mindeds.” They believe whatever told, but are too lazy to ever do anything but watch television and complain.”

I love it. Next time I see a barefoot woman screaming at her 4 kids in Wal*Mart while buying Misty 100’s and dark tanning oil, I’ll automatically think, “easy-minded.”  Ahh, the beauty of cultural exchange.

PUotD: Oh gawd, the cankles. The swollen preggo cankles have attacked! I’m officially off high heels unless it’s a special occasion. Or I may just paint my legs gray and tell people that I received a calf/foot transplant from Mrs. Jumbo. (Warning: photo may be too graphic for sensitive readers. Note the strap marks from the high heels I wore for about 12 hours today. No more of that for a while.)

Snakes & Arrows & Expensive Tickets

Thanks the the fan presale, I am the proud owner of 2 center section, 15th row tickets for Rush in Charlotte in June. Whoooo-hoooo! I will not divulge how much the seats cost me (or how many Bothans died to bring me the information), but my justification is this: If I can't go, I can ebay them easily. Not that it matters- I will be there.

Also: I know I'm the last human on earth to see it, but 300 is the badassest movie I have ever seen. It's like what would happen if Lord of the Rings was fueled by HGH instead of pipe-weed.

PUotD: Related to the movie- the loud soundtrack to 300 really got the kid riled up. She knocked around in there for constantly for about half the movie before getting tuckered out. In relation to the rest of the post, Neil Peart's drumming also gets her moving.

Blingtasticness

Tonight was the National championship banquet (a fundraising event where rich donors pay to get dinner and a chance to give more money), so we had to get all dressed up and pretend to be adults as to not offend said donors. I of course had nothing dressy that fit, so it was off to the mall I went, in search of a proper frock. May I take this opportunity to personally thank the fashion industry for deciding that flowing, empire-waisted shirts and dresses will be all the rage this season- you have saved me much money and frustration. (The dress I ended up buying was from a teeny-bopper store, it was less than $10, and it fit perfectly.)

The team and staff received the championship rings, and as you can see from the photo that showcases last year’s ring (left) and this year’s version (right), the bling is even more ostentatious and gaudy than before. I didn’t think it was possible. *Thanks to the great Jamino for modeling the hardware. (As before, the women’s version is much more understated and resembles a gold class ring with an onyx center.)

I’ve put up a little photo gallery to the side there for anyone who is interested in what the festivities looked like. Please bear in mind that I am 7+months pregnant in these photos, and that it is completely normal to carry all one’s baby weight in the form of double chins.

(Speaking of weight, if you were the person at the banquet who made the rude comment disguised as a joke to someone I love very much about their weight gain, you can kiss my fat pregnant ass. You aren’t funny, you’re a sad little person.)

And I have to say a big CONGRATS to my buddy C., who told me tonight that not only is his wife pregnant, but they’re expecting TWINS. Wow…C is a great guy and an ace photog- looks like he’ll have plenty to aim his lens at here shortly.

PUoTD: Sometimes I can tell which of the baby's body parts are where- I can usually pick out head, butt, or legs. Yesterday I was watching my belly change shapes as the kiddo moved, and right underneath my ribcage, a foot poked out. I could see the heel, the sole, and the toes. It was absolutely wild, and very cool.

taking a big civic doodie

Things that pregnancy gets you:
A seat in a crowded room
A nice person to hold the door at a store when your arms are loaded down with packages
Leniency with the boss when you just *can't* seem to get to work on time
To the front of the line in buffet situations

Things that pregnancy does NOT get you:
Out of jury duty

That's right. This week I'm doing my civic duty, and it is not anything like Law & Order led me to believe. doink doink, indeed.
I tried my damndest to get out of being selected, but despite wearing my pregnantest looking shirt and squirming around uncomfortably in my chair throughout the selection process, the lawyers seem to think I'm a wonderful addition to their panel of 12.
And what is this case, you might ask? Murder most foul and despicable? Crimes of passion? Sadly, no. Although I'm not at liberty to discuss any details, lets just say it involves a tractor, a dumptruck, and reinforces every negative stereotype you have ever heard about the Appalachia region.
It's the case of  Methuselah vs. Greasy McGhee, and it is my job as a North Carolinian be front and center for it. My goal for tomorrow is not to nod off during opening arguments from either set of late-nite TV smarmy douchebag lawyers.

In a much more interesting story, a friend of mine was telling me today that his father had to serve on a jury where the plaintiff was a man who was suing his doctor for malpractice. Pretty routine-sounding case, right? Not exactly...the plaintiff had evidently suffered from gangrene and had to undergo an emergency amputation after a botched penis enlargement surgery. Apparently there were many visual aids that accompanied the testimony.
Penile gangrene...and yet I end up with tractor collisions.

ps- I went to an Anoushka Shankar (daughter of Ravi) this evening. What I got from it: 1. I didn't know what half those instruments on the stage were. 2. She is much prettier than her father, and 3. I bet her butt is still numb from sitting on the floor all night. Can one not pluck the sitar effectively while perched in a big comfy chair?

Oh, those conceided MySpacers

Every few months I plug my high school into the search field on MySpace and see who and what pops up. It's usually a cornucopia of redneck idiocy and attention-whoring, and tonight's search did not disappoint on either front. One guy's "About Me" blurb was too good not to share:

Please note the Cadillac symbols that comprise this page's background. If that, compounded with the use of the word "lil" doesn't convey sophistication, well then I just don't know what does.

Re: My charitable contributions

Dear Not-for-profit organization that I contribute my dollars to annually,

    First off, let me say that I love and support your cause. For this reason, I give a reasonable number of my hard-earned dollars to you each year. I renew my annual membership each October, and have for several years. You get this money from me each and every year, and I assume that as my life progresses and I (hopefully) move up in income level, you will receive more and more funding from me, but for now I do what I can.

    You can count on me. So it is wholly unnecessary for you to send me a membership drive packet in the mail every three weeks. Seriously, I am already a member. If for some reason I get a raise or win the lottery, I will not forget about my commitment to you. So STOP ALREADY with the junk mail. I do not need to open my mailbox only to be guilt tripped by your oh-so-well-thought-out spam letters depicting sad-eyed puppies and kittens who will surely die horribly painful deaths unless I join your organization. (Which, as I have pointed out, I did years ago)

    A quick Internet search tells me that you get a 22.4-cent rate to mail out these packages, so for me alone you’re paying that at least 17 times a year, which is about 4 bucks. That doesn’t seem like much, but your own website boasts “over 1,000,000 members,” which means you’re paying over 4 million dollars a year preaching to the choir. (And that doesn’t even include the special edition requests for money: the holiday letter, the tax-time letter, the change-of-address for billing letters, etc.) You obviously have a strong multimedia presence; an emailed brochure, message, or press release arrives in my inbox at least three times a week. So STOP with the snail mail!

    Thanks for your time. I will resend you this letter in a week or so, and then again and again.

Pregnancy and megapixels

Sorry for no updates…truthfully there isn’t much going on and I haven’t been motivated to write anything witty. The 3rd trimester has taken away my wit and left me sleepy and boring. That’s sad.

This week brings the joy of “kick counts,” which means that twice a day I have to lie down and count how many times Pookie moves around. If it’s less than 10 in 2 hours, I have to get myself to the doctor, pronto. This is very nerve-wracking, even thought I’ve been getting to 10 movements in less than 5 minutes mostly. That’s my kid, Squirmy McSquirmerson. Just hope it stays that way- I can see this being something that expectant mothers freak about (“Well, I don’t know if that was a movement or gas. Should I count it, or should I call the doctor?!”).

In other news, I’ve come to a fork in the road, photography-wise. It’s time to buy a new camera, and I’m seriously considering a switch to Canon from Nikon (which I’ve been shooting with for years). I don’t have a lot invested in lenses and accoutrements for Nikon, and everything I’ve read and gleaned is that Canon handles fast, low-light situations (such as concerts and sporting events) better.  It’s certainly true that I share the sideline with a lot more white-lensed Canon shooters than Nikonians.

I’ve been weighing the pros and cons of this for weeks now. Canon shooters tell me that Nikons are too grainy and their lenses aren’t great, and Nikon shooters scoff at Canon’s slow startup times and less durable bodies. I don’t want to shortchange myself by simply buying the system I’m more comfortable with, but on the other hand, the system I’m used to might be just fine for my level of photography. 

There is no easy answer; the debate rages on in chatrooms and photography magazines, and people are damn loyal to whichever system they’ve chosen. It’s like the “Coke or Pepsi” to a freaky degree – most people couldn’t tell the difference, but you get a few purists together and there might just be bloodshed.

I’ve changed my mind about 5 times on which system to buy and am no closer to making an actual purchase than I was before.

ps- Rush in Charlotte on June 19? Are you guys kidding me. Come on now...a JULY 19 show would be much more convenient for those of us whelping in the early summer. Also, you can stream the new Rush song, Far Cry, on their website.

just some whining

Today has just been a bummer. Between this trial going on, watching this movie in class tonight, finding out about bad things happening to some friends, and then coming home to find my husband watching an ER marathon (the really sad episodes where Carter and Luka are in Africa), I’ve just been in a subdued place today.

And then I noticed that the Tool concerts around here are going to be rescheduled for riiight around my due date, so I’ll likely be missing those. And that further bummed me out. And then I was pushed even deeper into bummed-out territory because it occurred to me: what the hell kind of expectant mother is upset about missing a concert? Seriously. I mean, they’re a favorite band of mine and I really want to add them to the portfolio, but come on.

I have several shows coming up to shoot, and I’ve been merrily agreeing to do them, but now that I’m starting to expand more, I wonder if it’s the right thing to do. Maybe I should take it easy more than I am? Maybe I should give up on this silly music photography dream? Maybe it’s time to grow up? (All of these thoughts add to my bummed-out-edness)

Although…it could work in my favor. My friend M. (whose baby was born 7 weeks premature) had to go down to the hospital in Winston because the one in this po-dunk town can’t handle preemies. She advised me to try to figure out a way to deliver there (with the really great docs and staff) as opposed to here (lesser docs, infamously incompetent nurses and staff). If I DID go to the concert (in Winston), and due to the adrenaline and endorphins somehow ended up going into labor, it would just be a hop, skip, and jump over to the really good hospital. Voila.

Plus, what a great story to mortify the kid with later on: “I damn near delivered you on some slamdancing 14-year-old punk’s trenchcoat, you know that? You should have seen the look on his pierced-up face when my water broke!”

Today on Wild America

And we’re back from Charleston. Friday night the team suffered a heart-breaking loss, and we’re now in waiting mode to see which if either of the national tournaments (NCAA or NIT) is interested in the team based on a stellar record but less-than-stellar league tournament performance. So now it’s back to the grind. Sigh.

The subject of today’s post is a PSA, or Public Service Announcement for you non-advertising majors out there (and lord help those of you who are/were. What a useless degree). Here goes: you know how at the zoo there are “Do Not Touch” signs on animal enclosures? They are there for YOUR safety, because soft koalas and lazy pandas are still bears, fuzzy cheetahs and snugglicious tigers are still wild cats, and hippos are among the most dangerous of animals ever conceived. These are all untamed animals, no matter how Disney portrays them, no matter how many nature shows make them look cuddy.

The same applies to pregnant women. DO NOT TOUCH. No matter how docile a woman may look, whether grazing peacefully or chatting with others in the herd, do NOT approach her and grab her belly while squealing about how cuuuuute it is.  This kind of sudden movement can startle the gestating female, resulting in very bad things. You are likely to draw back a nub, and there is no one to blame but yourself. Pregnant does not mean "domesticated", in many cases (ok, maybe just mine) it may actually mean "feral". Hands off!

There are only a few exceptions to the “Do Not Touch” rule, and they all should be prefaced with “meeting this condition gains you the right to ASK for touching privileges.” #1: You are the partner of said female, and the fetus carries half your DNA. #2: You are the parent/close relative of the woman, and in good standing with the woman. #3: You are a good enough female friend of the woman to share potentially embarrassing secrets about one another. In other words, “casual friend she goes to the gym with once a month or so” does NOT cut the mustard.

People who are not on this list: old ladies at the mall, old ladies at restaurants, anyone in Wal*Mart, old ladies in parking lots, males in general (this is a personal space issue, people!), and assorted basketball players (this may just have happened to me).

Report from Charleston

In the time since that last post I’ve ended up in Charleston to shoot the Southern Conference basketball tournament. Well, our games anyway- not the whole thing. Today is the first day I’ve felt vaguely human again, and many a box of Kleenex was emptied to make it so. Blecch- I rarely every get sick, but since I’ve been pregnant I’ve gotten three really bad colds. Which sucks because there isn’t really anything I can take to feel better.

In other, less whiny news, we’re still kickin in the tournament after winning last night. The guys play tonight at 8:30, then hopefully for the championship tomorrow afternoon. Even if we get knocked out, I’ll still be here for the final, because my husband is broadcasting the entire tournament on Sirius Satellite radio- tune in if you’ve got one. It’s fun for me to listen to, because his color announcer is his dad, and it’s cool to see them getting to do the father/son broadcasting thing.

In other DJ-related news (that makes me glad he doesn’t read this blog- he’d kill me for telling this), a radio station covering the tournament ranked the conference radio announcers on style and seeded the best-dressed. My dear husband got the #2 seed. Awww. I told him not to get a big head about it- the judges weren’t close enough to notice the pieces of dog hair on his jacket.

Well, it’s of to a pre-game meal now. I’ll update again if anything interesting happens here. Hope y’all have all had a great week!

PuotD: I think this kid has doubled in size this week, and so have I. Yikes. She’s also very active. Maybe a basketball fan, or maybe the pep bands are riling her up?