Down low, too slow!

I hate high fiving. A lot.

High fiving humans...
I will high five the shit out of animals.
Except birds, fuck birds, but I will high five any hamster that puts its creepy little alien paw up for me to gently tap with my palm (because it is a tiny cute hamster and full on high five might hurt it).

High fiving humans holds no interest for me because they judge you when you are awkward and your hand isn't a fucking physics major, so you kinda miss their hand on the forward trajectory, not hitting it right on, and then they know you have spacial issues, and they don't say anything but you can see it in the way that they avoid your eyes.

Or you go for the high five and they do the mercy hand position and there you are, slightly horrified, looking like you are defending yourself again a bully who wants to break your wrists and they are clutching at your hands, jumping up and down, excited, and you are just receding to your happy place until this stranger danger is over.

And it is stranger danger, because anyone who really knows me knows I don't want to touch their hands. They also probably know that they don't want to touch my hands (see the post about my activities on road trips). I'd rather most people put their genitals on me than their grubby dirty hands.


That job I had, the one that I got fired from, they were staunch believers in high fives.  My soul died a little every time I was forced to partake in their bizarre hand touching ritual. Thankfully they fired me though, so I didn't have to come up with bizarre reasons to dodge being touched.  I had already considered "leprosy from an armadillo bite" and "mail order ebola that accidentally got shipped to me instead of my terrorist next door neighbors."  They probably would have just gotten hazmat suits for everyone and upped the "up highs" to boost my morale.

ANIMAL HIGH FIVE CHALLENGE! 

The best ones will be posted later this week with a link to your blog. Draw them up and send them to my email (cheeseblarg at live dot com). You have until Wednesday, 11:59pm my time.

 p.s. Your drawings don't have to be drawings if you'd like to work in another medium, but it has to be self made.

                                     

I selected this post to be featured on my blog’s page at Humor Blogs.

How I learned to attend classes in college.

When I was in college, I was not famous for making it to classes. Especially not classes that were at 8am.  I learned, eventually, not to schedule my classes before noon.. fine, before 3pm... but I had an unfortunate semester where I had scheduled a Non-Western Art History class at 8am and my teacher was boring, and a jerk, and  I was suffering from allergy-induced panic attacks.  It turns out that they were a reaction to a medicine I took every night at 10 pm, though no one realized it was an "allergy" until well after I had failed a bunch of classes. And since I would take the pill at 10 pm, it would kick off a panic attack a few hours later once it got nice and cozy in my blood stream, so I would have a full blown panic attack at 2 am where I would call my sister, crying hysterically, like the one time I called telling her I thought I might actually be dead.

 "Well, how are you calling me if you're dead?" 

       "I don't know how it works! I'm freaking out, I think it is logical that I might be dead!"

 "You're not dead... go take your meds."

But the meds they prescribed at the college health clinic were Xanax (which only made the attacks worse) and Ambien (which knocked me out, hard), so the one time I recall making it to class, I was pretty much a drooling zombie, which ties back into the whole "already dead" thing ( but I assure you I am not a zombie now, so I may have been wrong on that count- although, if I were that would be pretty cool. Imagine that! You would be reading a blarg written by a zombie right now, a very articulate and funny zombie. You'd totally let me eat your brains if that was the case, right?!).

None of this is the point of what I am writing, though.  The point is, I missed A LOT of that Non-Western History class, and that kinda sucked, because it was required for me to graduate. In actuality, I only remember going to class a total of about 6 times. One of those times was for the final.

Now, I had taken A LOT of art history up until then, having gone to art schools for the preceding 6 years, so I thought that MAYBE I could wing it and get enough right to get a C- in the class so I wouldn't have to take it again, but then, I got the final in front of me, and I looked up at the slides that Professor Jerkhole was showing, and while they were certainly beautiful works of art, I didn't know a damned thing about them.  Well no, I recognized the works by Hokusai, who did those beautiful Japanese iconic prints of Tsunami waves in front of Mt. Fuji.

 And I recognized another Japanese wash painting by Ekaku of the Bodhidharma who had cut off his eyelids to meditate without falling asleep,

and the Terracotta soldiers of the Qin Dynasty (the ones that are featured in the latest Mummy movie).

But otherwise it was a bunch of pretty vases and raku cups and if you don't know anything about art history, none of this means anything to you, I know.  And it didn't mean much to me since I needed to know the artist, the title, the date, the historical period, and the materials of each piece of art.

And then this image came up:

And I looked down at the question on the test that went with the slide and the question read, I shit you not:

And I thought, "Well, shit, I imagine I would know that if I had ever gone to class... um... Buddha?" which was not the right answer.  I was wrong on about 85% of the questions, in fact... and I failed the class and had to take it again at which point I managed to actually go to class and pass.

But even taking the class over, I never found out who made that damned bowl.


UPDATED: 12/13/12 1:52 am- I FOUND THE BOWL! OMG! This is it. It was made by Ogata Kenzan, and his brother was the painter Ogata Korin! I cannot tell you how absolutely exciting finding this was! I found it at the following link FINALLY by searching "famous Japanese pottery." The internet is a wonderful place!
http://mcgyakimono.blogspot.com/2010/10/ogata-kenzan.html

Limitations

I learned today, while sitting in front of my computer, that I do not have the ability to eat a chicken soft taco using only one hand.

A mouse is not an option.

I hate my scrollbar SO much.  I don't know if it is supposed to act this way or if it is totally defective, but it acts like it is totally defective.
Here I am, reading my pages of social media... la la la, happily reading Facebook or LJ and KAPOW! It decides, YOU'VE READ ENOUGH! BACK TO THE TOP! HOORAY!

Now, I am left handed and that may be what is causing its grudge against me... I mean it all started with scissors... goddamned scissors... it seems to go against physics that tilting the cutting surface slightly to the left should make them NOT WORK AT ALL... but I really should be used to this treatment from office supplies by now.

But yes, my fingerpad laptop scrolly-wheelbar-- it hates me and doesn't want me to keep in touch with my friends and family. And it isn't even consistent.  Sometimes it skips up, sometimes we are transported to the bottom of the page.  I shudder to think if it could scroll me side to side.