In a recent MSN conversation with my UK buddy...

Me: So speaking of Gandhi, do you think non-violent non-cooperation could work in modern day society?

Euan: ...is this not the cutest squirrel EVER???

Further Evidence That I Should Not Procreate

It's getting harder to laugh at the stupid things I do when they occur so often.

Some backlogged items:

3. A month or two ago I told Nikki that the drain in one of our double sinks was clogged. The water was murkey and I couldn't see the bottom. Turns out I just completely forgot that I put the plug in. I discovered this two days later. (Thankfully before I contacted our landlord)

2. A month ago I was working late and realized I had to move my car as my parking had expired. Got my car, moved it into the company parkade, then tried to use my keycard to get up to the lobby. Didn't work. Had to wait for someone to come out the door and then snuck in. Got to the lobby, couldn't scan in the elevator. Got security to scan me in. Got to my floor. Couldn't scan into my floor. Went back down to the lobby. Security calls our company rep. Gets permission to scan me onto my floor. I leave a message for Facilities to fix my dang card. I grab my stuff and leave. I go to scan into the elevator on the off chance it will work. I hold up my key card and realize...yes. I have been using my apartment keycard instead of my work keycard. Yes, they look identical. But are on separate keychains.

That brings us to today's incident.

1. I tried baking a carrot cake last night for our United Way bake sale today. I got as far as getting the batter ready in a bowl before taking a break and subsequently crashing. Tonight I attempted to finish, which I thought I had done successfully until I realized I had forgotten one vital item; the carrots.

I'm getting kinda scared. Hold me.

Note to self: don't...do...anything.

Nikki: You're a disaster today.
Lorraine: You tell me that every day.
Nikki: No, I usually say you are a mess. Today you're a disaster!

I'm not sure if this is the way I have always been and I just never really took note of it, or if this is something new. The last time I felt this clumsy was probably around puberty, when my body started growing rapidly but had apparently left my hand-eye coordination behind.

Lately I've been doing things like walking into walls, coffee tables, various other inanimate objects, and just getting hurt in very strange ways. (Moreso than usual, is my point.)


I guess they aren't only strange but also stupid. For example, I can't keep a drink from spilling to save my life. I also keep perpetually walking into the corner posts of my bed. On closer inspection, it looks like someone specifically designed the posts for this purpose. Despite the obvious lack of esthetics, I am still considering buying foam or some type of padding and using duct tape to securely fasten to each post. *brief moment of affection for duct tape*


Then there was the incident a few days ago where I seared my finger on a broken part of a mixer that belonged to a movie-theater style popcorn maker. How did this happen, you ask? Well, first of all, I'm an idiot and immediately grabbed it when it fell out of the popcorn pot without it even occurring to me that it would be ridiculously hot, and secondly, it was part of my volunteering duties for our United Way campaign at work. Since it did occur on work time, I briefly considered filing for workman's comp, but discarded this idea due to the consequence of having more people find out about my stupidity, and subsequently creating a safety incident report which would soon be circulated to the entire company.


Unfortunately, this was not the only incident with the popcorn maker...oh no. I also had a burning hot kernel fly out of the pot and target the gap between the collar of my shirt and my chest like a fat kid on a smartie. Fearing I would accidentally bare my breasts in front of my coworkers during my mad attempt to remove it, I ran away clutching my chest. (You can imagine how graceful and sophisticated this looked.) Two days later, I have three very red and very large blisters from where it first fell beneath my breast, stubbornly moved to a second spot under my breast, and firmly planted itself in the center of my bra, the part which provides the most pressure against the skin. If I could put up a tactful picture of this, I would.


I can't help but wonder how this particular kernel found it's way three feet away from where it was sitting and into the tiniest crevice of my shirt. Really...the angles must have been so precise and exact, along with the amount of velocity it took to shoot out of the pot. AND it knew to do it when somebody I had just met on the United Way committee was talking to me. Which makes me hope I haven't developed a reputation as "girl who burns herself by accident a lot." Yes, there is no doubt...this kernel was out to get me. This kernel HUNTED ME DOWN. (Kudos to anybody who got the Dane Cook reference.)


I've been trying to come up with a good reason that these things keep happening, and after ruling out brain tumor (mostly because that is clearly a child of my paranoia), I have yet to come up with a good explanation. So for now, let's go with a second puberty, and I will heartily await to grow another few inches taller.

All The Good Ones Are Taken

It's just so frustrating.  Every time I find a new one that I think has potential, I find out just as soon - taken.  What's a girl to do?  You know what I'm talking about...email addresses.

The one I currently use I have had since I was in gradeschool.  As I type, there are 286 unread emails sitting in the inbox that consist of everything from forwards I'm too lazy to read to special offers from amazon to notices that it's time to pay my utility bills.  Aside from the sheer mass of emails I receive that I neither need nor want, my user name has underscores in between each word, and gosh darn it, I'm lazy. I want a user name/email address that I don't have to reach all the way up to the numerical row to type in. Plus, trying to tell it to someone goes something like this: "Ok. So my email is 'just, underscore, little, underscore, old, underscore, me.'" A slight pain in the ass.

So off I went to gmail to see what was available. (Too much spam in hotmail. I was baffled as to why I wrote viagra.com as there was clearly a Re: in the subject line. Those tricky tricky penis enlarging/sexual drive enhancing advertisers.) 

I finally figured out one I liked. One that was cute and encompasses everything I am in a simple few words.  rainyc. But...this user name is taken. *dun dun dun*

rainy.c is taken.  Lorrainey.c is taken.  I could do rainyc with a number on the end, but I have always vowed to stay away from that. It feels like selling out somehow. Sure, I could have my own unique email address, but the only thing differing it from the other rainyc's out there would be the number. I am not just another rainyc. I am an original rainyc. Some other unoriginal rainyc's just got to my username first.

I have a plethora of other names I have considered:

• twiddlingmythumbs@gmail.com (taken)
• eniarrol@gmail.com (Lorraine backwards) (taken)
• iwalkintowalls@gmail.com (taken) (also true story)

The only ones I could find that were available were:

• sushimakesmegag@gmail.com
• overflowfrommyhead@gmail.com
• stillneedsabib@gmail.com
• iwalkintocoffeetables@gmail.com

Even 'allthegoodnamesaretaken@gmail.com' is taken. It's ridiculous.

Now I know I'm making a big deal of this, I know I should just pick one and stick to it. But it's a big deal for me. So many things are linked through email nowadays. And you have to pick one that is simple, that is age friendly (I don't think my mom would love an email address like hellsyeah@gmail.com) and you're not embarrassed to give out. 

And so the search continues. I'm open to suggestions.