Many rivers of evil carp to cross

I read a headline this noon-time that said "Fish kill eyed."

My immediate reaction was to think, "Goddamn carp," because they were the fish in the story. "I have eyes. Are they somehow coming for me? Like I don't have enough to worry about?"

For all I knew, Osama bin Laden had perverted Dr. Evil's dream of sharks with laser beams or at least some angry mutated carp. Or maybe these toys had come to life.

I then read the story and it turns out that officials were planning a fish-kill to try to control the invasive carp. Carp are not targeting the masses with eyes.

This was a load off my mind, especially because five minutes later I got an e-mail that said the company was firing 26 people.

I wasn't among those let go, and I didn't know most that well. But who cares? People lost jobs, and this round of cuts was a real shock. I honestly thought things were getting better.

I spoke a while back of the Springsteen cover of Trapped and how I felt Trapped. Another Jimmy Cliff song Springsteen covers is sitting in my mind today: Many Rivers to Cross.

I doubt Jimmy Cliff, or Bruce Springsteen for that matter, and I have much in common. They probably don't know the anguish I have been experiencing lately as I find my legs failing to help me back into my chair or onto my bed. Do they know what it is like to stub your toe pretty innocently but have your skin be so thin the bathroom floor becomes slick with blood? (There is actually some still there tonight.) Or just to be alone, in a world of couples? The problems change, but everyone's

Got many rivers to cross
But can`t seem to find my way over.

But with my luck, the rivers I have to cross will have bloodthirsty carp.

Glee doesn't get a free pass

Anyone who cannot hear well or has a loved one with poor hearing knows that it is profoundly unfunny.

I am disappointed then that Glee played for comedic effect the half-deaf choir director last week.

Perhaps they were trying to show the difference between children, who seemed moved by the deaf choir's performance, and Mr. Shue, who acted annoyed and exasperated by the hard-of-hearing director. But I don't think that was it.

The disability of the director was played as a joke. Like Mr. Shue kept saying "your cellphone is ringing," only to have the director respond to some unasked and unrelated question. It was SO funny.

As someone who doesn't hear his cellphone 90% of the time I am now rooting against the Glee Clubbers, even if they do have a wheelchair user.

A little catch-up

CLARIFICATION: My friend took exception when I wrote that she said I was overreacting by being annoyed that someone walked right into the wheelchair stall as I washed my hands. She said that she felt it was uncool but did not believe the guy deserved to die. I responded that I did think he should die (I may have said that if I had a hand grenade, I'd have tossed it in the stall. This was, of course, a lie. Do you have any idea how long it would take maintenance to repair and clean up grenade damage?) I pointed out that given my execution stance she did in fact think I overreacted. Hence, no correction. But to clarify, she does think the guy was majorly uncool, like school in summer: "No class."

When I live in my new house, I will still be tired, which is one reason I have not written for almost a week.

I have been working the afternoon shift for the past two weeks, and I go back to it on Wednesday. It is not such a bad shift, but there is no me to do other stuff when I am late. And on Friday, I worked 9:30 to 7, which was cool when I was there because there is less to do on the day after Thanksgiving and I had time to do some "bells and whistles" that I often have to do without. But I was so tired.

When we live in the new house, however, I will have a place to retire to and write. Or be anti-social, if you will. I can't wait.

So here then are some things that happened this week but I was too tired and social to write about:

I was in the work bathroom drying off my hands and this guy walked in and right into the handicapped stall. "Walked" being the important word here. He had no apparent reason other than that stall is cool. I thought this was a ridiculously bold maneuver given that a person in a chair is in the restroom, watching. I wanted to say something to Claren like "Let's leave the bathroom with a wheelchair stall occupied by a walker." Or something. That is not too juicy a putdown; in retrospect I am glad I said nothing. I told a friend about this and she said I overreacted. Probably, but I am still bugged by it.

Oh, also at the new house (being blogged about now), I will have a private bathroom. I hate my bathroom now because it is off a fairly public area. Also, there is no exhaust fan to hide any odd sounds.

And I am the king of odd sounds. One morning, I was showering and had left the bathroom door cracked to keep it from getting super steamy. When I got out, my sister, who was not there when I went in, said: Wow, your showering tires me out. She was referring to the many grunts and groans I made.

It's true. Showering tires me out, too, sometimes. Showers are supposed to be rejuvenating. I hate getting out a feeling worse than when I got in.

Bruce Springsteen answered this question in a recent interview:

"Does this feel like it might be the last run for the E Street Band?"
"No. We don't even really think of it."

Neither had I, but apparently a lot of his other fans did. I hope this shuts them up but I doubt it will.


Probably more stuff happened. I survived Thanksgiving -- it was actually nice.

Getting my fat on helps me swim

Apparently, all I need to swim like a pro is a fat suit.

Not like a Monica from Friends fat suit or the one Barney wore recently on How I Met Your Mother. Just a little one, "to give you the fat you need," my teacher said when I saw it.

It was awesome. I swam some well and so independently, the two volunteers had plenty of time to talk to each other about things like SATs and what college they want to go to. Oh, man, I am old.

I did two and a half pool lengths on my own. In the middle of length 3, the teacher was hollering something to us and I thought we were stopping there so I stopped swimming. But we weren't stopping there, and actually I caught the volunteer off-guard and went under for a second. Surprisingly, it went well. I took a quick breath before going under and then held my breath.

After that I did more swimming with the fat suit using my legs. I also walked up and down the pool, but that was hard because of the suit. It tended to ride up on me when I wasn't floating.

We even took it off and I swam on my own for a length or two. Pretty awesome.

Finally, I was blowing bubbles in the water and to make that more interesting my teacher had one of the volunteers and I lock forearms and then he walked backward down the pool, pulling me off my feet, so I was floating and felt like I was really swimming on my belly. He stopped every five seconds so I came up for air. That was fun.

But then the teacher got a bigger volunteer to give me a bigger challenge. The teacher told me to kick, too, and I just lost it. We stopped and started again and he said "ready?" I said "OK" but left my mouth open, got a major mouthful of water and then we decided to call it a day.

It was a good lesson and I almost didn't go because Mom and Dad had gone out and my sister was real busy. But she sucked it up and took me. She even came to pick me up after I said "shit" and "ass" in front of her son.

Why is Neighborhood Watch stalking me?

I am working late this week and next, so I just got back from my walk around the block with Claren. While out, I was stalked by a white car with a magnet on the side that said Neighborhood Watch.

OK, "stalked" may be too strong, but they drove past me really slowly twice, and I have lived here off and one for most of my life but have never seen a Neighborhood Watch patrol car.

I was on the sidewalk letting Claren the Wonder Dog relieve herself the first time they drove past, and part of me thinks they just drove by again to make sure I picked up after her.

This would be a horrible abuse of power if true, but I can't really figure out why else they drove past us slowly again.

I mean if they were worried I was a burglar, they are kind of morons. How many burglars have red flashing lights on several parts of their bodies? Let alone the wheelchair.

Actually, if they thought a wheelchair user was a burglar, it would show a remarkable lack of stereotyping, so maybe I should praise them for that.

Nah, they were just morons.