It’s one of those crazy days …
You know the kind where you feel like someone jammed a chopstick in your ear and scrambled your brains around?
Yeah, one of those kinds of days.
Yay for the end of the semester (note heavy sarcasm).
Womanly observations
Women living in Boulder have undoubtedly noticed the signs hanging on the backs of bathroom stall doors everywhere, always in prime view while peeing.
“Don’t flush your feminine products down the toilet as this causes clogging, etc., etc., blah, blah, blah.”
That’s old news.
What I find interesting–I’m debating about whether or not to start a spreadsheet in order to compile my data more formally–is the vast assortment of clip art that tends to go along with this particular admonition.
Sometimes it’s one of those female symbols … you know, the one with the circle and the arrow pointing out of it. If this is the case it will be, without fail, in some putrid shade of pink that’s supposed to be womanly, but mostly just makes me throw up a little bit in my mouth.
Other times it will be the standard “no” symbol, that vivid red circle with the line through it. You can use your own imagination regarding what additional clip art object is inserted into the center of said circle.
Last night, however, at CU’s Mackey Auditorium, I saw a decal new to my well trained eye: a hand with four fingers curled into a fist, while the index finger stood up straight. There were little squiggles off to the sides giving the obvious impression that the finger was moving back and forth in a blatant “Do not do this or I will send you to the moon” kind of indication.
They’re definitely getting points on my spreadsheet for creativity.
But what I found especially interesting was the unmistakable gender of that wagging finger: male.
“Odd,” I thought.
Mike, however, pointed out that it was likely to be a man who would be doing the unclogging.
Despite all of my feminist tendencies, I have to relent: Touché.
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Regression
What does it say about me that all I want to do today is hole up in a warm, dark room and write? Maybe I’ll eat a little …
I feel like I’m going back to the womb.
Sigh. The life of an aspiring freelancer …
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Foiled
Honestly, is there anything more disappointing than a mealy apple?
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Plea from a nube Twitterer
I did it.
I signed up for Twitter … again, actually. I think I have some other alias flitting around in the Twitosphere, but I couldn’t remember the password.
But back to my point: I’m on Twitter. Dun, dun, duuuuun. I feel like I need some fanfare going on in the background. Like a gong. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone follow you around with a gong, which they would bang whenever you needed to add a little emphasis to whatever you just said? I think that might come in handy …
Psssttt … whoever you app-making people are. That idea’s worth millions … I’d like a cut though.
So yes, being on Twitter. My question for all of you Twittering powerhouses (Yes, I’m talking to you, Fish, Mike, etc.) is this:
How much is too much? At what point are you just launching needless comments into Cyber Space, effectively clogging it up for the rest of the more restrained Tweeters? Are we talking one every 30 minutes? Every hour? Once a day?
Anyone have any wisdom?