Speaking of Moving Your Ass

So, hours after my last snarky post, I am reading on the train en route to my shadowy lair. Suddenly, a gloom-filled voice crackles over the PA system. "Attention Passengers, Attention! A suspicious package has been found on this train. We are evacuating this train, NOW! Please exit this train, NOW!"

Wow.

9/11 wasn't so long ago that New Yorkers don't haul ass at the mention that they may be in danger. The fleeing torrent of humanity had taken me 100 yards away from the train in 40 flat.
In their collective defense, they did act nonchalant and bitch loudly about it, once they were a safe distance away.

I imagine that thirty minutes later, the bomb squad blew some poor lady's cashmere purchases to kingdom come....(And if you remember from yesteryear, the cashmere is more dangerous)...

Ah well. Safety first. Even if it means reminding you that you COULD DIE AT ANY MINUTE!!!

SA

New York Is Not For Lovers

If you ever met me (which is unlikely as I am garbed in comforting shadows) you would probably be assume that, despite my best efforts, I am a nice guy. Six months ago, I would always hold the door open for you, regardless of gender. I always say "please" and "thank you," generally remember birthdays and anniversaries well, and try to be a helpful human being. I generally hold back the biting wit and dark thoughts, reserved for close friends and outlets such as this.

Skip ahead six months...

New York City. The Concrete Jungle. The City That never sleeps, etc. etc...

8.11 AM.

When the train doors (known as subway doors to you) creak open, I move my ass. Thousands of other well-dressed lemmings are pouring from every orifice on the train, and there is only one outlet on my 53rd and Lexington stop: a three story climb to the surface, either via escalators or some steep-ass stairs. No one is talking, everyone is just queuing into the funnel to begin our ascent. Every morning, I hum "Sixteen Tons"to myself as I climb step after step as fast as I can.

Once we hit the surface, free to go out separate ways, I break from the herd and hustle towards my office, slightly bent over, as if I am heading into a strong wind. My head down, I just move with the flow of other proletariat pedestrians. Every body knows their place in this dance, and we pull it off without flaw.

Until this:
The Thundering Herd screeches to a halt, blocked by these looky-loo lovers. They stroll right down the middle of the sidewalk, shambling aimlessly along, gawking at the sights surrounding them. "Look honey, a falafel cart, and over there, a faux handbag stand, and if we look in the nearby store windows, it's the exact same crap we can buy just about anywhere else we might be in our homogenized society. Neat!" (I may be paraphrasing)

They are completely oblivious to the pile-up of humanity they have created with their bottleneck.

My eyes dart quickly about, looking for an outlet to slip past. My only choices are edging past them by the dirty and sharp edged ubiquitous scaffolding on the right, or certain death by oncoming traffic on the left. I shuffled behind the slowpokes, seething at the delay.

Finally, as I was about to attempt human "Frogger" with the traffic, another trenchcoated denizen of the city just snapped, and said what I was thinking. "Fucking Move!!" he growled, and the startled tourists parted, and the logjam flowed between them.

As I slid past at my customary pace, I caught the woman's eye, and with a knowing look and small nod, she comprehended my meaning on my kind, nice guy face. Welcome to New York, stay outta my way, or I'll shank you. . .

I think I AM becoming a New Yorker!

SA

Circus Nomore Us

Hello Blogosphere. I'm back. Wow. Harder than I thought to just show up here and say that.

Let's see...what's new? Ahh yes, about three months after my last post, I was called up to the Big Show. In NYC now, shepherding a flock of of SEO/SEM geeks. My people. Same job, but now for clients all well known globally.

I'm sure I could blather on about the things that have happened in the meanwhile, but if I cover it, I'll go into a "flashback" post.


The main reason to return is to draw attention to and mourn the loss of a cultural icon: Circus Animals has gone on to that three-ring circus in the sky. Since childhood, this colorful treat has comforted me, and many a frosted little animal has met their end in my gullet. My parents would never buy me something this garish and delicious, they were more of the macaroon type of folk. (*Urp*) I can't even say the word "macaroon" (*Urp*) without gagging. . . They may not have been high-flautin' cookies, but I would like to think of them as Redneck Ambrosia.


When I first lived on my own, this was my treat of choice, partly for their buttery goodness, partly because I couldn't afford Oreos.

Now the end has come my friends. The economy has claimed a new victim. Their parent company, Mother's has closed their doors. They cite the cost of sugar and flour skyrocketing, but I know the real reason. I haven't bought a bag of them for five years.



I'm sorry I let you down, Circus Animals. I'll miss the frosted goodness and sprinkles to lick off my hand...

Of course, by NOT eating these trashy delectables, I will most live longer. I just won't enjoy it as much...


SA

P.S. Some other blogs of concerned citizens lamenting the fate of Circus Animals:

Dessert First

The Naked Loon

Baking Bites

P.P.S. Thank you for all the nice posts and well-wishes from my readers over this last year. Sorry I never responded to them, and there were quite a few more of you other there than I even dreamed of.

I Quietly Slink Back. . .

With no announcement and little fanfare, I quietly slink back. I want to thank each and every one of you who commented or sent me an email, and wished me well. I was terribly sick with this cold/flu combo pack (anyone who has had it this season can testify,) and it knocked me flat. But that is not the only reason I have been absent. . .

A bit of a tough holiday season for me and mine, and I just didn't know how (or want)to present it in a blog format I was comfortable with.

My spouse and I are enduring the trials of infertility, and the ordeal of in vitro. This was our third time with no success, and it has been tough to find ways to console her in this time of personal grief. There are of course bigger and more horrible things to endure in this life, but this has been the biggest one so far for my marriage, and not really sure how to describe the tough spots we are navigating through. . .like commercials about babies every two minutes, parents melting down on their kids while shopping, forced close contact with family during the holidays while getting the inevitable incessant "How'd it go? How'd it go?" All served as reminders of a life we most likely will never have.



All of this was expected and frankly, unavoidable. But I could not find a way to be snarkily musing while really bummed out. I remember how sad I was when one of my favorite bloggers, The Domestic Minx, just dropped off the face of the earth. I thought to myself that something very tragic must have happened to abandon her loyal fans, otherwise we would have heard by now. After I dropped off for awhile, it became clear how easy it was to let go while I hid out.

If it is any small consolation, you loyal readers are not the only ones I have been ducking. I don't think I have made more than one public appearance since Jan 1st, much to the annoyance and chagrin of my pool of loyal friends.

I apologize to those of you who came to be entertained, there are enough blogs on personal pain that I wanted to create something different, and I have not been able to be true to that end. However, if you bear with me, I shall slowly return to my former fun self.

Rereading this, not my best post ever, but hey, I'm rusty. Sue me.


SA

P.S. For those few who were looking to contact me directly, the best way will still be sarcasmabounds AT gmail.com. This will forward to where ever I am.

grrr...sick

I hope you are all having a lovely holiday season. We had a white Christmas here in Colorado, and have 8 inches of snow on the ground. I now have a wicked cold to go with it. Sorry for the slow posting, I will try to be back up to the 2-3 a week postings soon.

SA

Someone else could use your support today

While trying to catch up on my neglected blogging friends, I found this sorrowful news on blogging icon Bossy's blog.

If you have a moment, please stop by Bossy's and think good thoughts for the recovery of her daughter.



SA

PS Decided to remove Bossys daughter's picture here, it seemed creepy for me to post it without Bossy's consent.

HP Webcam by Revlon?

I just realized that there is a streaming webcam built into my laptop above the monitor. As I am not shooting a porno, what the heck is it good for?



Then, another use dawned on me. Come on girls, tell me true - would you use it as a make-up compact??

SA

A Bone to Pick with Colbert Nation

While I have pledged to keep posting about Stephen Colbert at least once a week, I see that it has been more than a week since my last post. Looks like I owe you two this week.

This one is an open letter to Stephen Colbert and his entourage:



God-King, while I remain one of the faithful, I have a bone to pick with you and your "#1 and #2" fan site, Colbert Nation. While you are basking away on some Bermuda beach, your nation's website is quickly spiraling out of control. Since the writers strike began, there have been no new postings here, perhaps to show solidarity with you, which is fine.

However, even with the void that has been created with no new news on the website, there are still many who comment on the last post. I first noticed them when I found a link from the Colbert Nation's comments to my little blog, which I greatly appreciated, however my appreciation soured when I began to read through the other comments and find quite a few anti-Semitic and racist posts spread throughout the comments.

From my very first post for this blog, "The Sweet Midwest Girl" I made it clear where I stand on racism, be it actively hostile or passively permissive.

Now Stephen, I know you aren't responsible for every annoying poster that feels the need to spread nonsense and hate, but I absolutely hold you and you due-designates responsible for not policing your public posting site. If you promote it, and it sells your products, you need to take a moment from in absentia and make someone deal with it. This is for the betterment of all, but especially the children. What is more American than that?

Take this happy young lad, for example:



This is JCH, the son of my blogging pal Meleah from Momma Mia, Mea Culpa. You are a hero of his. While he is enjoying your new book, what if he decides to head over to Colbert Nation to see what else you might have that is interesting? What is he going to think if he reads some of the hateful bile some posters have left?

I promise it won't take more than a few minutes for you to sort this out, and you can climb back up on your golden throne to pass judgement on all you survey. Otherwise, I will be forced to declare my blog the #1 and #2 fan site, as I am serving up fresh and racist-free content on all things Stephen Colbert.

Respectfully,

SA

A belated Turkey-Day post.

Started this on Thanksgiving, forgot to post. Anyway, a few moments of TG at SA's hidden (but well lit) lair.

- The Tour -

The calm before the storm:



As you can see here, we are well stocked for a guest list of 40. Sadly, we only have nine coming. I smell leftovers!



You will notice that I have some Jager on the left. It may be the last thing left that is mine, all other personal items have been systematically deleted from the home.

I don't drink it (it's probably 5 years old), it just hails from my youth...

And here we have a giant bird cooking, covered with a pomegranite molasses glaze. More like an ostrich than a turkey...



I may go vegan after the horrible things I had to do the that poor bird's body cavity.

The kitchen preparing for the flurry of food prep that is to come:



The table is set with expensive china and an assortment of eclectic (read: folding) chairs:



The chair I've never sat on:



Fuzzy parasites that are cute enough to be allowed to cohabit this lair:



And finally, we come to the staple of all inimate family gatherings - the booze:



I hope the foodie holiday was good to you and yours.

SA

You are Missed, Mister Colbert

As I pledged to do in "Speaking out for a Muzzled Hero of Mine", I will post something on Stephen Colbert at least once a week until his triumphant return at the close of the writer's strike. (Which now has to last at least through New Years, as that is how many posts I have partially written so far. . .)

So, Stephen (forgive me for being so informal, calling you God-King sounds too sycophantic, and we don't want that,) in your downtime, I imagine you are spending time with family, pouting about your denial in South Carolina and playing excessive amounts of World of Warcraft (no doubt as a hunter, skinning bears.) Perhaps you can use this time more constructively by wandering over to your old stomping grounds at the Daily Show and do some tradin' to give up one of your old bits, "This Week in God."



Now, I know Samantha Bee has tried admirably to continue the tradition you started with this bit, but it's just not the same without you. I am not particularly religious, but I really looked forward to seeing the God machine rise to do your bidding (no whammies,no whammies!) and cover the theological topics of the day. A chill would descend my spine when I would hear the haunting sound of the God Machine (beep bop bop bor beep.) Without your canny observations of all things holy, the fervor for this topic has gone right out of me, and I have returned to my secular ways with no knowledge of current religious doctrine.

Really, The Daily Show has no need of it without you, and you could fit it in between Threatdowns and stories of Monkeys on the Lamb. You must have something they want. Maybe some of your less patriotic ties for Jon, or Papa Bear's microwave, or heck, Jimmy. He won't mind making the sacrifice.

Just food for thought, Stephen Colbert. Which is probably all the food you should be eating after a month off. Your suits might start to get tight otherwise.

SA

Well, can't you see that's the last act of a desperate man?

Forgot to mention, my swan song as I exited the building. I set up my computer speakers in a hard to reach place, maxed out the volume, and set off "Charlie the Unicorn" as I exited the building. As I drove off into the night I could see several folks standing in my office, no doubt looking for the off switch.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with Charlie the Unicorn, behold!!


It is impossible not to smile or question your grip on sanity while witnessing this fine animation. And it gets better with repeated applications. Soon you and all your friends will be calling "Charleeeee" to each other.

SA

Bart: Well, can't you see that's the last act of a desperate man?
Howard Johnson: We don't care if it's the first act of Henry V, we're leaving!

-Blazing Saddles

Last Day in Office

One of those things that have been keeping me busy and not posting regularly is that I am changing jobs. And today happens to be my very last day at my current position. While it had become clear that it was time to move on, there are things I will miss.

I'll miss my colleagues for sure. While they are all irritatingly younger, more attractive and healthier than I, they are also a rather entertaining lot. If you spend eight hours a day with the same folks, make sure you like them, they become a little like family (maybe better, because I would dread eight hours a day with my family.) I'll even miss aspects of my job, I did enjoy feeling like I was helping a prestigious non-profit modernize some of their processes. Welcome to the late '90s, soon-to-be-ex-employer. Embrace the future!

I will not miss the commute. Two and a half hours a day on the road really begins to make me feel like I am missing a lot of life. That's 27 freaking days a year, just driving to and from work!

However, now that I have the opportunity to work from home, I will miss my office.

Here I am pondering some of life's deeper mysteries on my last day...



Now it is time to pack up all the important personal possessions:



Done.

Can't forget my aquatic art....



Look out the window one last time....



And meander down the long hall one last time. . . (like horror-movie long)



And leap into the unknown. . .

SA has left the building!