May 21, 2010


Posted in 8-ball - pool not narcotics, I need a helmet, The Aaaarrrghhhhh! at 10:24 am by Dagny Taggart

Sorry.  I’ve been busy being thinky.  Because sometimes, you just have to think about things for a long time, even if you kind of know what the outcome should be, because thinking about it will make you okay with the outcome, whereas if you didn’t give yourself enough time to think, you’d be anxious about it FOREVER.


Gmail is being aggravating, in that it keeps locking me out of my email account, which could mean that someone is trying to hack into my account which would suck.  But in the meantime, I can’t GET at anything, and it is SO ANNOYING.

Enough with the shouting.  On the plus side, I have more tournaments in my future, because my teams are apparently comprised entirely of rockstars (I think I sneaked on as “equipment manager” or some such), and I can spend my whole weekend restoring order to my world, and things like this:


May 12, 2010

I don’t… get it.

Posted in *cringe*, The Aaaarrrghhhhh!, The Just a Little Sad, The Small and Petty, The Who, The Why at 1:37 pm by Dagny Taggart

And I am lucky as all hell, that I don’t get it.  S.E. and I have had our differences, to be sure, and she’s hurt me more deeply than pretty much anyone else could, but she’s also loved me more fiercely.  And I her.

So when I hear about other sibling relationships, I’m always somewhat confounded by those that aren’t particularly close, especially those where genuine animosity is present.  It just doesn’t compute, on some visceral level.

How do you get to a point where you automatically assume the worst about someone who played with you as a child?

Okay – I mean, intellectually, I understand how some siblings really make any kind of amicable relationship possible.  When interning for a J&DR court judge, I attended a divorce proceeding in circuit court wherein the soon-to-be-ex-husband was involved, amorously, with his soon-to-be-ex-sister-in-law.  So, yes.  I understand it, where something truly heinous has been said or done.

But the stupid, penny-ante sibling rivalry crap?  How does THAT happen?

I don’t understand how you let that get to you enough to where you get annoyed every time you think about your sibling.  I don’t get how little nitpicky remarks that get made every time you see each other don’t become something you barely hear, something to ignore so that you can peaceably and genuinely enjoy family time.

Is this simply a situation where each sibling is really pissed off that they weren’t an only child?  And even if it is, don’t you think that they could just treat each other like co-workers they don’t really like, or something, and be blandly civil when required, rather than sniping constantly?

May 7, 2010

STILL upset

Posted in 8-ball - pool not narcotics, The Aaaarrrghhhhh!, The Angry, The Ouch at 8:49 am by Dagny Taggart

Last night, I played twice.  I won one, I lost one.

I was annoyed at my coaches both times.  But the one I’m still mad about, was the one where my coach essentially told me that I was going to lose, so I should use the game as a learning experience, and experiment with different types of shots/English that I don’t normally take.  I missed my very next shot, and lost.

Now, I’m not an idiot, or illogical, most of the time.  And I knew I was going to lose – the girl I was playing was on a completely different level (we can discuss her ranking/sandbagging/completely snotty attitude later). 

But there’s something about someone else saying out loud – someone who was supposed to be on my team – that completely demoralized me.  And afterward, I told him I thought that was a jerky thing to do – and it was implied that I was overreacting, that I was taking it the wrong way.

I don’t know.  I think that in general, unless you have something to say that will get me closer to winning the game at hand, maybe you can just shut the hell up.  Telling me that I’m going to lose under the guise of “taking the pressure off” doesn’t survive a cost-benefit analysis.


May 4, 2010


Posted in *cringe*, But I am... le sick, The Aaaarrrghhhhh!, The Just a Little Sad, The Small and Petty, The WTF at 12:31 pm by Dagny Taggart

I just don’t understand why, when people who have been part of the same group of friends for a long time start choosing different ways of life, there has to enter an element of criticism.

How is it possible for people to not understand that one size does not fit all?

Of course, I am not innocent, either.  Because I cannot help but feel sorry for people who are so close-minded that they cannot bring themselves to accept alternative paths to happiness.  When, in fact, they might be happier being close-minded, than they would be if they let themselves think about other choices, and thus, they are in fact doing what is best for them.  So.

I guess I should work on that.

April 20, 2010

A Weekend Night

Posted in *cringe*, Project: Fail, The Aaaarrrghhhhh!, The Small and Petty, The Who, The WTF at 8:42 am by Dagny Taggart

This past weekend, I went to see a truly entertaining phenomenon known as The Legwarmers.  I highly recommend it, the next time they’re in town.  SO MUCH  FUN!

I went with a group, some of whom were kind enough to pick me up at my place so that I didn’t have to worry about transportation to and fro.   I spent some time assessing various combinations of current wardrobe components to put together a mildly era-appropriate but still flattering outfit, and hopped in the car when my friends arrived.

One of my friends was driving.  His wife was in the front seat, and his good friend was in the back.  Brief introductions occurred, and the gentleman in the back (we’ll call him Will) was a youngish guy who apparently grew up in a rougher part of the Boston area.  He and my friend’s wife (we’ll call her Amy – more about her in Part II) were exchanging tales of neighborhood woe, as she works with disadvantaged youth in a rougher part of another city.

Relatively early on in their conversation, Will described the area where he grew up, and used a common derogatory term for Polish people as he discussed the primary demographic there.  I deliberately did not react, but had visions of watching Dr. Taggart beat him severely, about the head and shoulders.

As we all sat down to eat, Will and I struck up a conversation about a variety of things – hockey, hometowns, Harleys, etc.  The conversation was definitely flowing, and I got the impression that Will thought I was pretty great.  W couldn’t make it that night, and it seemed as though Will hadn’t heard that I wasn’t a ready target for more flirtatious attention.

Over the course of the evening, my friends and I teased each other, and Will noted that I had a fairly thick skin.  To which I responded (as I sometimes do, when that observation is made), that as a naturally blond, half-Polish lawyer from New Jersey, my life was someone’s stand-up routine – I’d been forced to develop some kind of defense system pretty early on.

And then I watched as poor Will recalled with chagrin his poor choice of words earlier in the evening.  And listened as he tried to cover it by saying, “Oh, right – yeah, I think I mentioned earlier that I grew up in a very Polish neighborhood.”

And I smiled as I met his eyes and said, “Yes, I remember you mentioning that.”

April 16, 2010


Posted in But I am... le sick, I need a helmet, The Aaaarrrghhhhh!, The OCD, The Small and Petty, The Where, The WTF at 6:42 am by Dagny Taggart

When I moved into my condo, everything seemed perfect.  Granted, there was a lot of new stuff, and new-carpet smell and new-carpet lint and just generally getting used to things, but it was all pretty cool, and the home inspector had even checked out my condenser, etc. up on the roof.

Which he was able to do, because there is a roof access panel just outside my unit.  He did all of that, pronounced it fine, and then I went ahead and got a home warranty anyway.

A few months ago, the access panel had changed.  It now sports a sign and a padlock, and the sign directs anyone needing access to the roof to call the property management company to have someone come out there.

A few weeks ago, the smell of death started entering my little abode.  I walked in, and WOW did it smell… chemical-y.  I thought it might be my brand-new tv, offgassing.  But, no, because I took the tv out and no change.  And then I did this fun thing where I would go outside for a while, and then run inside and sniff things to see if they could be the source of the smell.  And then go back outside… etc., etc.

W says it smells like mothballs.  To me, it reminds me vaguely of turpentine with notes of lighter fluid.  I haven’t been feeling entirely well, and it seriously smells.

Oh!  And then, it got cold.  And I turned on the heat, as opposed to the fan/AC, because it was cold.  And the smell started to go away.

So, I called to schedule an appointment for my central AC, through the home warranty people, who scheduled it for a few days later.  And then I called the condo management company, so they could unlock the padlock.

And not only did they not call me back, but they then tried to tell me that I would have to reschedule my AC appointment for Monday, because that particular property manager is in training until then, and won’t be able to come out and unlock the padlock.  Because apparently, there is no one else covering his accounts for the three days that he’s in training.  Perhaps these are magic keys, usable only by the Anointed Property Manager?

But no, because when I raised the point that the fumes were actually making me ill, and that I was pretty sure that not opening the access panel in a close-to-emergent situation kind of meant that they weren’t actually managing the property and therefore weren’t actually doing the thing they were hired to do, they decided to graciously allow me to go to their office and pick up the keys and unlock the access panel myself.  FANtastic.

I’m going to go breathe some more.  Hopefully, sometime soon, it will involve air that smells of humidity and pollen, and nothing else.

March 25, 2010

Biannual Tango

Posted in But I am... le sick, I need a helmet, Project: Fail, The Aaaarrrghhhhh!, The Just a Little Sad, The Ouch at 8:39 am by Dagny Taggart

Longer ago than I care to admit, I had some minor surgery to remove some cancerous cells.

Seriously.  Compared to what other people go through when THEY have cancer, this was nothing.  In fact, the doctors all seemed to avoid saying that I had cancer, likely because the category in which I fell indicated that it was barely over the cusp of becoming cancer.

So, I had biopsies, then an outpatient procedure, and then a truckload of monitoring for a year or two after.  And then I had a year, maybe two, of apparent normalcy.

The problem is, abnormal cells don’t walk around with large signs announcing their presence to doctors.  They can hide, sometimes.  And so, the biannual tango began.

It starts with a regular visit.  And the usual tests are run.  And then two weeks later, I get phone call, and the results come back “abnormal”.  And so I go back, and get biopsied.  And then I wait a few more weeks.  And then they tell me that it’s not great, but it’s not the end of the world, and if I could just come back in 6 months, they’ll check me again.  Dip, turn.

And then I go.  And the usual tests are run.  And then two weeks later I get a phone call, and the results come back “abnormal”.  And so I go back, and I get biopsied.  And then I wait a few more weeks.  And then they tell me that it’s still not great, but it’s not the end of the world, and if I could just come back in 6 months, they’ll check me again.

6 7 8 and 1…

I have no idea what I would do with all of my spare time, if it all just went away.  Maybe some dancing lessons.

March 15, 2010

Joey, have you ever been in… in a Turkish prison?

Posted in Oubliette, Project: Fail, The Aaaarrrghhhhh!, The Angry, The Small and Petty, The Who, The Why, The WTF at 8:23 am by Dagny Taggart

Mr. Graves, you will be missed.

Some friends of mine throw a party about this time every year.  It’s St. Patrick’s Day themed, though it rarely falls on the 17th, as my friends are the practical sort who would rather give themselves a Sunday of recovery, rather than quibble about dates.  These are friends I’ve known for well over a decade, and the group that shows up has a fair amount of history with one another.

Including me, and the sociopath who tried to apologize.

You see, I’ve known this guy for, again, roughly 14 years.  One of my earliest, and most vivid memories of him, involves an evening when he asked me to help at a rush event, then proceeded to make reprehensible statements of a sexual nature about my best friend and roommate – who was underage at the time, incidentally. 

Oh – and when I relayed that story both to the girl in question, as well as to some of my other female friends who socialized with that group, he acted as though I were in the wrong, for talking about a conversation that had happened at a rush event.  As though I were a disappointment for not agreeing to keep his behavior under wraps.

He was apologizing for a completely different incident, though.  One where he, despite knowing full well that I was not amenable to any such pairing, told a mutual friend of ours that I was interested in dating him, and that he should ask me out.  Because I’d been pretty clear about my lack of interest, it was obvious to me that this guy enjoyed putting people into awkward situations, and didn’t particularly care about the consequences for anyone but himself.

So when he pulled me aside and offered a glib apology, I smiled and congratulated him on his lovely family, and didn’t accept a word of his contrition.

Because I am not some vapid, simpering idiot, or neglected preschooler, to be so easily manipulated with a practiced smile and diplomatic pablum. 

I hope he ends up in a Turkish prison.

March 12, 2010

Note to self (Herding Cats)

Posted in *cringe*, Advice I have no business giving, The Aaaarrrghhhhh!, The Small and Petty, The WTF at 8:23 am by Dagny Taggart


Should you ever decide to have a relatively formal wedding, one that involves attendants, do your best to not have anyone be an attendant who is concurrently planning her own wedding.  Because if you do, you run the risk of subjecting your other bridesmaids and maid of honor to a bridezilla, even if you yourself are actually remaining cool, calm, collected… and considerate.

Apparently, Self, when someone is in the throes of planning HER day, which is not the same day as your wedding day, she may feel entitled to decide that certain aspects of your wedding day are going to be all about her, despite the fact that nobody other than the bridesmaids notices what the bridesmaids are wearing, save that they are usually dressed similarly and are therefore identifiable by the bride, the groomsmen, the wedding planner, and anyone else who may need special attention at the wedding, because that is essentially what one agrees to do, when one agrees to be an attendant.

So, Self, keep that in mind.  Also, should it be unavoidable, you might want to think about making it absolutely clear that these disputes are to be resolved entirely among the members of the bridal party who (1) are wearing the damn dresses in the first place, and who (2) ARE NOT YOU.  Because the bride, who is ostensibly planning most of the other aspects of the event, does not need to be refereeing squabbles amongst her attendants, even if one of them IS planning her own wedding.

In short, Self, make sure that you ask people who are more likely to be concerned with making things easier for you, than having things the way they want them.

Also, Self, make sure you have put someone in charge who is less prone to murderous fits of pique than yourself.  Unless, of course, that person is coordinating the activities from a safely distant location.

March 3, 2010

Oral examination of gratuitous equines not recommended

Posted in Darth Vaguer, Nerdiness, Project: Fail, The Aaaarrrghhhhh!, The Angry, The Small and Petty, The Why, The WTF at 9:24 am by Dagny Taggart

I once told SE that I would never run.

Granted, I was pushing a size 16 at the time, and had no muscle tone, three inhalers, and was injected biweekly in an attempt to keep my allergy symptoms from putting me in a bubble.

But I still told her I wouldn’t run.  And I didn’t WANT to run, at all.  I wanted to be thinner, but I wanted it to happen magically.  I had no desire to be more fit – just to be thin enough to fit in and not get teased for maybe one whole day straight.  I thought that if I were thin, I could pull that off- so long as I didn’t actually say anything.

And one day, I got motivated.  It wasn’t the best motivation, but that didn’t change the fact that the end result was still better for me than what I’d been doing.  I started working out, in an effort to drop a little more weight.  And that worked.

Same thing with quitting smoking.  I didn’t WANT to quit for the longest time, despite knowing that I should, and that lots of people wanted me to.  I enjoyed the f*ck out of smoking for a while there, and I wasn’t motivated in the least to do anything about it.

And then again, borne out of perhaps not the best of intentions, I quit smoking.  I hung on to whatever motivation I could find, whether it was the best reason or not, and I made it work for me until the motivation didn’t matter anymore, because I’d achieved my goal and I wasn’t looking back.

So there’s this thing that I’ve been unhappy about, the place I spend a lot of time and don’t write about here, directly.  I’ve been really unhappy with that.  And I’ve discovered some reasons to do something about it.  They may make me small and petty and vindictive and bitchy, but they make me want to do something about it.

So I’m going to grab ahold of this motivation and do something.  Because eventually, the motivation won’t matter – not if I do it right.  Eventually, I’ll be better off.  And eventually, I’ll find some other reason to keep doing it, and I’ll be good at it.

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