Let’s go over this again.
When you’re in a line, there is what some of us like to call “The Line Rule”. It’s generally called “personal space” or “your bubble”. The ideal line looks like this (but with…you know, more dimension):
A typical line also looks like this:
Maybe it’s just me, but isn’t there some kind of unspoken rule? A two foot rule? I’m not talking about lines at amusement parks, the anomalies of complacent parents and children whose blood has turned entirely into Kool-Aid. I’m also not talking about The Six Foot Rule (see: San Diego Municipal Code Chapter 3, Article 3, §33.2808, item C), because this isn’t the time to bring up the not-so-seedy underbelly of SD nightlife. That’s a different story altogether. Anyway, remember the next time you’re in a line, leave about two feet of space between you and the person in front of you. Do not:
A) crowd them to ask the cashier a question like “Hey, do you still have any Ultra Super Mega Bold Roast left?”
B) crowd them to ask the cashier if they can get change for a twenty because the drawer is still open – and not apologize for crowding.
C) touch them.
D) touch them without apologizing (yes, we know it’s crowded and you might bump into someone. give a quick ‘sorry’.)
E) take things from them.
F) sniff their hair.
These are just sort of general rules that what we call “A Logical Person” would do. Feel free to write it down and/or pass it on.
That said, things here at the homestead have been interesting. J’s leg is finally showing some bone growth, he’s got ghosting calciumitis or whatever you want to call it when the healing starts.
He’s all excited because this means the brace and wrappings can come off and his leg can finally get washed. After four weeks. Mmm, just imagine the smell. It’s like a horrible ripe cheese of cheesy death. That’s kind of a bummer because cheese is AWESOME.
That reminds me, I was invited to a CheeseAhPohlooza next Sunday. A friend of mine last year decided to throw a cheese party at her new place: “Last year’s party brought in about 87 different types of cheeses and over a hundred people throughout the day. It was glorious. “ In lieu of trying to get back to being more social (vertigo doesn’t care if you have friends or responsibilities), I’m going to try and get over to it.
I’m still struggling with inner ear issues. It’s horrible but getting better, and when it’s too bad I take Valium. The only good thing about Valium is the vivid and insane dreams that ensue, and that reminds me I need to start keeping a dream journal. At the very least I need something next to the bed; scrap paper to reminisce on. This morning’s dream had some dark twists and helped me get the background idea for the next Doktor Von Bunn idea.
This year has some serious social potential, speaking of, and all of it is at least mildly if not overwhelmingly exciting. After the delightfully OCD event that was taking my measurements, (39-36-39), J has ordered up a nice new harness for me, AWWW YEAH.
Last week I researched how to make a mini hat, but this one isn’t one that my lax skills are up to quite yet. It may indeed be less expensive (definitely less frustrating) to just buy it. Besides: LOOK AT IT. Uh, amazing.
In other news I watched RuPaul’s Drag Race and now want to don a wig and fancy makeup just to go to the store. The part where I watched “What Not To Wear” right before that probably didn’t help much, because now I *DEFINITELY* want to don a wig and fancy makeup.
The higher the hair, right? 😉
OH. I just saw that Miss Sharon Needles is a contestant and is from Pittsburgh. She’s right in the age range for some of my crazy-ass friends to know her IRL, so they best speak up. This is some fantastic madness.