~Learn Something New Day

I love learning something new.  Doesn't really even matter what.  I'm just curious by nature, which I guess is slightly better than being naughty.  (My humble and utmost apologies for that sad ass OPP maker's reference.  That was uncalled for.)

(Random side note:  I just spent :30 of my life, that I'm never getting back, mind you, attempting to figure out why a semi colon [after the word 'for', above] kept happening when I thought I was touching the period key.  Backspace, delete, push period key, see semi colon, repeat x4.  Turns out I have an errant fleck o' dust on just that spot on my screen.  Welcome to my life.)

A few postings back I made mention of not knowing that it was a wheelbarrow.  All my life I thought it was a wheelbarrel.  (A Day In Review: Saturday/May 2011)

I think I've also mentioned that I was a grown ass girl before I knew what a foundry is.  Honestly in all of my Catholic school education I don't think that word was ever uttered.  I remember the night I discovered the existence of the mythical "foundry".  How can I recall so clearly?  ....(insert harp-y music here)...

I was out 'Schmidtin'" (aka: going to a joint called Schmidt's) enjoying an adult beverage and enjoying flirting with some guy who at some point told me he worked in a foundry.  Once he fielded the question, "whaaaat's a foundry?"  My follow up was "what do you make?"  His answer:  $21.00 an hour. 

...And how do you not remember a conversation like that? 

Foundry (fowndree)
noun
Definition:
1. workplace for casting metal or glass: a building equipped for the casting of metal or glass
2. making castings: the skill or practice of casting metal or glass




I've never been one to be ashamed of what I don't know.   Some would say that's because I don't have the good sense to be embarrassed.  I say better to be the real you and learn some shit vs. pretending you know something ya don't and not learning.    I guess, I'd rather be looked at as the girl who learned sumthin' than the girl who just went on being ignorant.  Maybe that's just me?


The total tonnage of things I don't know about stuff and junk is staggering.  But today the load got a little lighter.

The other day when I met up with LB2'd and the Godkiddies, I spied this sign:

Because I'm not ashamed, I don't mind tellin' ya, not only do I not know who the fuck Paul R. Gingher is, I also have noooooo fuckin' clue what a Natatorium is.  Do you?

Of course it sounded like a fanfuckintabulous place.  I said something like, "whaaaaaat's a Natafuckintorium*?  (Due to small ears, and my strongly honed ability to censor myself when necessary, I did manage to leave the fuckin' outta the Natatorium question.), and the next thing I knew our legs carried us to the magical and fanstatical NATATORIUM!!!  We opened the door and peeked in.  Eh.  It was ok.  I mean, it was just a room, albeit a room bedazzled with murals and interesting and random seating juxtapositions.  Honestly, somewhat of a disappointment.  No offense to Paul R. Gingher, who I'm sure is/was a tremendous individual.  I guess I just expected a bubble machine, unicorns and a tiara station, or sumthin' equally as appealing.  It did not live up to what it's moniker suggested.

I found myself Googling doing some research to discover what in the world this crazy, new to me word is about.  Turns out..."A natatorium is, strictly speaking, a structurally separate building containing a swimming pool. In Latin, a cella natatoria was a swimming pool in its own building, although it is sometimes also used to refer to any indoor pool even if not housed in a dedicated building (e.g., a pool in a school or a fitness club).[1] It will usually also house locker rooms, and perhaps allied activities, such as a diving tank or facilities for water polo. Many colleges, universities and high schools have natatoria."   

Thank you Wiki.  I cannot attest to the veracity of that info, it is Wiki.  ...There was only so much research I could do, ya know?  (Google.  First entry.  Sold.)  I can say I did not see a pool whilst peepin' in the great Paul R. Gingher.

Sooooooo.

If'n ya didn't already, now you know a new word Natatorium.  (Say it out loud.  It's more fun to say than to actually see.)

...Look at us.  Doin' some learnin' in 'da World.


Update:  I've, of course, been asking people if they knew what a natatorium is.   Much to my surprise, several people did.  Which made me feel slightly stoopid.  While chatting with AnonD I asked the same of her, she like me, was unfamiliar with the lovely sounding natatorium.  I read her the blurb about it and she got very excited as she discovered that she has a natatorium!!  And she really, really does.  She and R have a training pool, which is bigger than the usual training/resistance pool, that lives in it's own separate room in their house.  I've been in the AnonD natatorium!  Needless to say, it's been an exciting day for us both.  I'm proud to say I'm 1 degree from a natatorium. 

~May St. Michael Watch Over 'Em Harder

It's a gray ass, drizzle-y day at BBGHQ.  It feels like an incredibly appropriate setting for the beginning of Police Memorial Week.  I thought about writing something new about my feelings on the week and the folks who strap up, but find myself of the ilk that May St. Michael Watch Over 'Em (May, 2010)  (http://bigbrowngirlworld.blogspot.com/2010/05/may-st-michael-watch-over-em.html) still sums it up best.

The troubling update from the past 12 months is the tragic surge in "Police fatalities" of 37% over the prior year ('09).  The headlines make the reality seem so, I donno?  Distant?  Sterile?  Detached?  I donno, maybe I'm over sensitive about the subject?   But from my personal experience and vantage point, can ya be too sensitive about the 160 regular, and yet stellar Sam Browne wearin' professionals who were taken from their loved ones and friends in service to their communities during 2010?   How can the other 69 Officers have died in the line so far this year, and their families not occupy space my mind, thoughts and prayers? 

While all of the deaths "strike home", it's been a particularly painful year (2011) here in Buckeyeland where we have already sadly lost six LEOs, including Deputy Suzanne Waughtel Hopper, of my hometown. 

I vowed to remember her name.  I generally recall the names of local officers who've paid the invoice of helping keeping me safe with their lives.  I feel it's the least I can do, to remember their name and sacrifice.

Once again I find myself thinking of the families.  The mom's and dads, siblings, spouses, and where maybe where I still identify the most, the kids who are having this week without a parent. 

...And hoping that St. Michael, the patron saint of Po-po, is more diligent in his duties this year. 

~Medals, Mack & Brass Monkey (Yes, That Funky Monkey). Oh, And Lesbianisim.

I had the best time visiting with my Godkids Saturday.  LB2'd brought both Godkid J, who had a karate tournament here, and Godkid Mini Me.  It was a sheer delight to get to hang with them, which I don't get a chance to do often enough.  They are growing up so fast.  Too fast for ol' Aunt BBG.  He's 13 and she's 11.  ...Seems like it was just yesterday I was putting them in pillowcases trying to steal them.  Despite having been subjected to the trauma of surviving an attempted kidnapping They are really, really good kids.  LB2'd is a really, really good mom, and I'm so glad they have (code name) H2B#3 as their dad figure. 

Godkid J earned two medals (or as LB2'd observed, he's "6 medals and a bong away from Michael Phleps").  It was his first tournament, I was so proud to see him compete so well.

(Congrats Godkid J!!)



Mini Me, code named because even though I literally saw her pop outta LB2'd, she, from pretty much go has demonstrated many, many BBG qualities (oh, and whatever the opposite of "qualities" is) to not be mine.  She is a mini me.  Not being lesbians, we have yet to figure out the logistics of it, but somehow that girl is mine. 

Because she is me she didn't even question when I said we were going to get our picture taken in front of the big ass, ol' school Mack truck we spied as we walked into the venue.

(Mini Me and a Mack)



It was a proud moment when I got to tell Mini Me about cab over engine trucks and BJ et the Bear.  (single tear slowly drops) 

(Random:  My favorite Mini Me quote;  "Everything is ok with Aunt BBG, even in war."    While I've never reeeeally been entirely sure what that meant, I've always taken it as very high regard.  Good to know I'm not fuckin' up being an Aunt too much!  Until them I'd had no Aunting experience, you know.)

And yes. 

Of course I had my photo taken with the truck. 

Did you really think I didn't? 

DO YOU NOT KNOW ME AT FUCKING ALLLLLLL?

(Note to self:  While you still look big, mainly because you are,

you look slightly less big in proximity to huge things. 

Strongly consider dating NBA and NFL sized guys,

touring tall circus freaks and Ron Jeremy.)

At some point (as it always does) things took a turn for the, "well.  Isn't that sumthin'".

LB2'd, Mini Me and moi had wondered to the concession stand.  On our way back to the competition area (...I know right about now you're envisioning some grand the Kid and Johnny Lawerence leg sweepin' event, but it was really a somewhat sketchy gym.  Nuthin' bad happened, but there were no mats.  I think there probably shoulda been mats, right?  And a Mr. Miyagi?), one of Godkid J's pals stopped us and said that J was "looking for his parents".   Which struck me as kinda odd.  But I didn't say anything.  

As we proceeded to the no mat/Miyagi free competition zone, we came upon the same kid's father, who also mentions that Godkid J is "looking for his parents", as he seems to be addressing both LB2'd and me.  Which, again, seems odd.  

I can only surmise that somewhere an hour west of here, some parents of some kid Godkid J knows is tellin' a story about meeting Godkid J's two moms.

LB2'd and I spoke later in the evening once she was home and we had quite a chuckle over the fact that both of us noticed, and picked up the vibe that that's what these folks seemed to believe about us as they were sayin' it, yet neither of us corrected them.  Laughed our asses off, in fact. 

I figured, what the fuck do I care if two strangers who live 50ish miles away think I'm battin' for the other team?  Answer:  Much like I feel about many people, and many things, I don't.  I felt like poppin' out with, "ohhhhh, we're straights" was just setting two people somewhat newish to our country up for feelin' assy.  Like mistaking a girl for preggers, when she's not.  Nobody wins.  Nobody.  (Except  when this has happened to me.  I have looked at people and said, "noooo I'm just fat".  Ta-dow!!  Frankly, grown ups ought to know better and in such a case I have no compunction for making them feel stoopid.  I win!)  However, I didn't think they deserved to feel stoopid, so I didn't correct them.  Plus, aren't we getting a little closer to evolved and enlightened when being thought gay isn't somehow the same as being thought of as being bad a good thing?  I guess maybe I felt like them not having to feel like asses was their reward for being accepting folks, even if they were wrong in their apparent assumption.  LB2'd and I decided that was our small part of the acceptance for all people fight.  We're probably not hittin' this years Pride, but at least we've done this.  (pats self on back)

After our shenanigans and medal winnings we grabbed a lil' grub before they all headed back to the vaguely Dayton area in hopes of seeing Godkid L on her way to her first prom (awwwwww...), we were standing around chattin' and Mini Me found her way to the front seat and in charge of the radio when she cranked up the tune they'd been listening to:

...Next thing ya know there's a BBG doin' the Brass Monkey dance in the parking lot.  Lookin' a fuckin'  fool.  And so it was; Saturday.  I hope in your own, less weird, less foolish lookin'  way yours was good too!

(BBG Fact:  I fully believe that seeing a cab over engine (COE), or as Izzz calls 'em, 'flat face' trucks, is a good omen.  Always.  Under any circumstances.  I don't know why.  I just love 'em.)

Scary Shit On The Internet

I'm not talking about the obvious shit like stalkers and identity theft.  I'm talking about that shit that pops out at you in the least expected moments while doing a search or ....

And then when you actually do a search on "scary", over half the shit that comes up are clowns!  WTF?

Clowns don't scare me but I know a few people who are going to hate...love me for this post...

My Last Post

All gone.  Meany head blogger did it.  /Super sadface.  I could repost "Themed Thursday: Zombies pt 4" but I'm lazy...If you really really want it.  I'll bring it back.

Themed Thursday: Zombies Part 4

The last chapter of Themed Thursday's Zombies.  Not to be mistaken for the last Themed Thursday or even the last of Zombies on this site, just the combination of the two.


Part 4 has been reserved for the funny hahas, the zombies that have made me laugh and hopefully, will do the same for you.

flammable zombies

eat flesh

zombies

baby zombie

braaaaiiiins!!!

fucking hungry

zombie tshirt

I don't think I'd get away with wearing this shirt...being a chick and all.

cutest zombie ever

Cutest Zombie EVER!

zombie wedding cake

Mine and the Mountain Man's future wedding cake.

zombie plush

Zombie plush.  I recently got this as a bday gift for Snake...

Snake

He, of course, loved it.

zombie barbie

pestilence pony

Zombie play pretties for the youngins.

zombie high-heels

And for the ladies.

Zombie Marvel

I've asked for the series for my last 3 birthdays.

zombie clowns

And yes, I just can't get enough of the clowns.

Adam Fisher

Drawn by my best friend Adam.  He's also designing the zombie tattoo I'll be getting after the parasite...baby is born.

zombie makeup

Damn good zombie makeup and I want to copy it for next year's Visioncon.

My favorite zombie of all time.  Do any of you know where he's from?

A good second favorite for last.  Can you remember which movie he's from?

~Goodbye Ol' Friend

Well...the remote finally drew it's last breath.  It lived a good looooooong life.  It worked out regularly, as you can see from the numberless and nameless buttons. 

(RIP Old Remote 200? - May 2011)

~Obituary~
Remote, Old
Born sometime in the 2000's was a state of the art digital magic cable box tell-er what to do-er who performed diligently for many years of service to BBG.  Until that fateful day it was dropped for the 32,000th time when it suffered a fatal battery hold-y in-y flap break.  Survivors include;  BBG and two AA batteries.  Services will be closed to the public.  In lieu of flowers contributions may be made to:
BBG Shits and Giggles Fund
c/o BBG
123 Fake St.
Somewhere, Ohio

In happier news, please join me in welcoming the new version:

(Born May 2011)

 

It even glows.

(Evidently,  I do not know the proper camera setting for glowing remote in a

not a very bright room.  Or maybe how to keep the camera still? 

Who knows.  Either way, sorry.)