So the Fish Said...

Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem, I whisper with my lips close to your ear.

- Walt Whitman

Meet the Fish

I want to get a pet duck and keep it in the bathtub.
I am addicted to chap stick and altoids.
I am freakishly flexible.


World's Most Beautiful Child

IMG_1542M.jpg


World's Most Handsome Child

IMG_1571O.jpg


Other Important Things

Clive Owen

Clive Owen
Pretend Celebrity Boyfriend


RSS Syndicate this site (XML)

Design by Emily

© Copyright 2004 SoTheFishSaid.com.
All Rights Reserved.

so the fish said...
  home links archives about contact

Archives

Main | April 2004 »

Even Steven

A couple of weeks ago, a man at my gym spoke to me. This is fairly unusual since for reasons of my I generally try to discourage strange people from coming up and talking to me. This man made a comment that he liked my shirt. The shirt I was wearing at the time sported an erstwhile tagline from the company I work for - something about age being more important than attitude. The man who commented on my shirt is a number of years older than I am so I assumed at the time that the sentiment struck home with him. We chatted for a minute about the shirt and the company and whether or not I am still employed there and I went on my merry way.

Since then, I have had the distinct impression that this man was following me. We are always at the gym at the same time, and he would frequently try to catch my eye or move to a machine next to the one I was using. He never spoke to me, but as I mentioned I work hard to avoid that type of thing. It was sorta really a lot starting to creep me out though.

Tonight I went over to the stretching contraption and he immediately came over and sat down on the upper abdominal torture device. I, as usual, avoided any type of social contact. Except tonight, he broke with tradition and said "Hi, I'm Steven." To which I replied, "Hi Steven, I'm Beth." And we talked for a minute about nothing in particular and went our separate ways.

And now, thinking about it, I wish that I had Steven's courage. The idea of going up and introducing myself to someone who clearly does not want to talk to me makes me sick to my stomach. I realize that not everyone has my hang-ups, but I still admire the people who do that sort of thing. It requires more simple bravery than many people possess.

It was very nice to meet you, Steven.

Today's Ditz Moment

I just got myself stuck in the bathroom by shutting my hair in the stall door. At least I didn't have to call Facilities to come set me free.

This picture just made my day

I need a vacation

I really need a vacation. So here is a shot from my last vacation. This was taken in a town on the coast of France called Billiers. This was the view from my hotel room. I'll wait while you quake with jealousy.

A better mousetrap

A couple of weeks ago, we got mice. This is at once better than the time we had termites, in that the mice have yet to fly at my head in a massive, psyche-scarring swarm, and worse than the time we had termites, in that the termites never came into the bedroom in the middle of the night while we were sleeping. My cats, Callie and Pixel, managed to catch 3 mice despite their moral dedication to a life of leisure (and respectively, advanced age and advanced chubbiness). After the second mouse we bought mouse traps.

Now, I like animals. I like them so much that I choose not to eat them. I do wear leather, but it is not my fault that animals make such flipping cute shoes. And really, the mice were kind of cute. So I did not want to get the neck-snapping mouse traps (or god forbid the sticky paper mouse traps that require you to crush the poor thing's skull with your thumb) and instead got the live-release mouse traps. The idea behind these traps is that the mouse will go into the trap to get the peanut butter, the little swinging door will close, and the mouse will just chill out and have a snack until it is released into the wild far away from my house (but possibly close to the neighbor with the yappy little dog).

Two nights ago we found the source of the mice and set the traps. Apparently this caused our mice to call all their mouse friends and kick of Mouse Party USA in the space beneath my fireplace. When we checked, the traps were empty. They were also tripped and in some cases totally flipped over. Every last bit of peanut butter was gone. I am sure the mice are somewhere deep in my walls sleeping off the worst peanut butter hangovers known to micedom. So today I went back to the hardware store and got new live-release traps. These traps are hardcore. I mean, they are like the Ft. Levinworth of mousetraps. There is no way those mice are going to escape there traps. At least they had better not escape, because if they do I am totally cutting off the peanut butter supply.

Designated Areas

My gym has recently posted signs outside the locker rooms stating "Cell phone use prohibited except in designated areas." I am sure the intent is to prevent unscrupulous people from taking pictures of scantily clad sweaty women with bedraggled post work out hair and posting them on the internet. Which considering how I look after 30 minutes on the treadmill I am all for.

Last night, there was a woman talking on her cell phone in the locker room. She was in one of the toilet stalls. She was changing into her work out clothes, which is difficult to do in a toilet stall even if you aren't talking on your cell phone at the same time. There was a wide assortment of clothing strewn on the floor at her feet. (The public restroom floor. And she was putting some of these clothes on. And ew.) Anyway, this woman was a realtor and as she was also a loud talker I can tell you that she first had a conversation with someone whose house she is selling. She then called the realtor for the people who are buying that same house. All of this from the bathroom stall, directly next to other bathroom stalls where other gym ladies were doing the things that one typically does in the bathroom. Which activities I am confident could be clearly heard on the other end of the realtor's cell phone. So, two things:

1. If I had a realtor who called me to discuss the sale of my house and I could clearly hear other people peeing during the conversation, I would SO fire her.

2. I am pretty sure that is NOT what they meant by designated areas.

The sign above my desk

BULLETIN

The Occupational Safety and Health Administration (OSHA) has determined that the maximum safe load capacity on my butt is two persons at one time, unless I install handrails and safety straps. As you have arrived sixth in line to ride my ass today, please take a number and wait your turn.

Thank you.

Is this the secret to a happy marriage?

Me: You know we are major dorks, right?
Him: Yes, but at least we are major dorks together.

With salsa


Who knew?

Stumpy

My junior year of high school I dated a guy named Derek. And I called him Stumpy. Then again, maybe it was the duck that I called Stumpy. The duck was small and stuffed and yellow and fuzzy and wore a little vest. Wait a minute, maybe Derek wore the vest. Derek was sweet and totally hot in a high school rebel nerd kinda way. I know for a fact that Derek took a picture of the duck drinking wine straight from the bottle and in the picture one or the other of them was wearing the vest. And one of the other of them was definitely called Stumpy. But I can't for the life of me remember which one.

This was a long-running inside joke between Derek and me, but I don't remember why.

So here's a story I do remember. Derek was a year ahead of me in school and went off to college and we broke up. When he came home for the summer he stopped by my house to drop off some stuff of mine that he still had. As a joke, to cut the tension of seeing each other again he wore this fake scraggly old mountain main beard when he came to the door. I cracked up when I saw him and reached up to pull the beard off.

You know where this is going, right?

Yup - that was his actual beard attached to his actual face by 100% actual hair. Which I pulled actually very hard as part of the joke. Nope, haven't heard from him since.

Time to go back to work

I am not very good at relaxing and taking it easy. I am however very good at doing 16 things at once. As it turns out, the longest I can be home alone with no work to do before going over the edge is about a day and a half. I hit the wall yesterday at about 2:00, at which time I replaced this ugly old thermostat

With this nice new programmable thermostat

For no reason whatsoever.

This morning i got up and read all my work email from the last 2 days, just as a fix so I can make it through the weekend.

I think I may need a 12-step program. But I of course would do all 12 steps at once.

Home Improvement

Through no fault of my own, I have an obscene amount of vacation time to use this year. 5 weeks. I feel like I'm in one of those countries where people actually get enough time off to not be strung-out whacked-out stress balls all the time. So basically, anywhere other than the U.S.

Anyway, I took yesterday and today off and yesterday I decided to commit acts of home improvement upon my master bathroom. Specifically, I had had it up to here with the ugliest bathroom cabinets ever mass-produced.

Three coats of primer, two coats of paint, and some new door handles later, I think the effect is greatly improved. In fact I am so impressed by what a little paint can do, I plan to spend today wandering the house looking for things to redecorate. The cats are already hiding under the bed.

Can you paint linoleum?

How I spent my summer vacation

There are people in the world who do not love Paris. There is something seriously wrong with those people.


This is Callie

She's purty.

Hello...

And welcome to my blog.