I haven’t seen this in years! I loved The Carol Burnett Show, and of all the characters, they were my favourites. I always hoped an episode would have either Mr. Tudball or Mama, and was disappointed if they didn’t. I used to do impressions of Mrs. Wiggins, Mr. Tudball and Mama for Marina. Still do Mrs. Wiggins for P. sometimes, much to his amusement.
OCD…Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Defined as a chronic anxiety disorder characterised by obsessive, repetitive, distressing thoughts and related compulsions. Criteria defined in the DSM-IV as:
DSM IV Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) Criteria
A. Either obsessions or compulsions:
Obsessions as defined by (1), (2), (3), and (4):
(1) recurrent and persistent thoughts, impulses, or images that are experienced at some time during the disturbance, as intrusive and inappropriate and that cause marked anxiety or distress
(2) the thoughts, impulses, or images are not simply excessive worries about real-life problems
(3) the person attempts to ignore or suppress such thoughts, impulses, or images, or to neutralize them with some other thought or action
(4) the person recognizes that the obsessional thoughts, impulses, or images are a product of his or her own mind (not imposed from without as in thought insertion)
Compulsions as defined by (1) and (2):
(1) repetitive behaviors (e.g., hand washing, ordering, checking) or mental acts (e.g., praying, counting, repeating words silently) that the person feels driven to perform in response to an obsession, or according to rules that must be applied rigidly
(2) the behaviors or mental acts are aimed at preventing or reducing distress or preventing some dreaded event or situation; however, these behaviors or mental acts either are not connected in a realistic way with what they are designed to neutralize or prevent or are clearly excessive
B. At some point during the course of the disorder, the person has recognized that the obsessions or compulsions are excessive or unreasonable. Note: This does not apply to children.
C. The obsessions or compulsions cause marked distress, are time consuming (take more than 1 hour a day), or significantly interfere with the person’s normal routine, occupational (or academic) functioning, or usual social activities or relationships.
D. I another Axis I disorder is present, the content of the obsessions or compulsions is not restricted to it (e.g., preoccupation with food in the presence of an Eating Disorder; hair pulling in the presence of Trichotillomania; concern with appearance in the presence of Body Dysmorphic Disorder; preoccupation with drugs in the presence of a Substance Use Disorder; preoccupation with having a serious illness in the presence of Hypochondriasis; preoccupation with sexual urges or fantasies in the presence of a Paraphilia; or guilty ruminations in the presence of Major Depressive Disorder).
E. The disturbance is not due to the direct physiological effects of a substance (e.g., a drug of abuse, a medication) or a general medical condition.
First, OCD is an acronym that stands for a noun, but it does not mean one can say, “He is OCD.” No, he damned well isn’t! He may or may not have OCD, but he, personally, is not OCD. That is the name of the condition, not a description of a person. Someone who says this, however, is an idiot.
Second, OCD is a medical condition, not a behaviour that is displayed by “normal” people. The fact that I happen to notice there are very few orange Smarties and decide to count the colours over the next several Smarties purchases, and graph the results, means…I noticed something and became curious, so I did an experiment. That’s how a “science mind” works–we notice things, become curious, and devise methods to investigate things that are interesting to us.
If, however, I cannot walk down a street without counting cars and noting their colours, and calculating the percentages of particular colours, and if this compulsion is so strong that I am at least occasionally late for work or appointments because I have been counting cars and calculating percentages instead of walking, and I experience distress or anxiety if I am prevented from counting cars, then I might very well have OCD. Someone who always hangs rolls of paper towel and toilet paper the same way probably does not have OCD. Bit of a neat freak or control freak, perhaps, but OCD…no. Someone who gets up every fifteen minutes (or wakes up during the night) to check, or who can’t leave the house (or go to bed at night) without ensuring that rolls of paper towel and toilet paper are still hanging correctly, and who becomes agitated if prevented from engaging in this behaviour, might very well have OCD. Pending, of course, a proper diagnosis by a qualified medical professional.
Everyone with poor social skills does not have autism or even Asperger’s Syndrome. Some people are simply rude and self-absorbed, and others need more practice in interpersonal actions (put down the CheetOs, turn off WOW and get out of mom’s basement). Everyone who notices patterns and is curious enough to investigate does not have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and no one, anywhere, ever, even if that person has a qualified diagnosis of the condition, “is OCD”. Idiots.
Never mind fixing stupid humans with brain injuries–there are already too many humans on earth. Perfect this technology so I can have my own neural net AI! I’d give it a name, probably George, and teach it how to do stuff I don’t want to do. 😀
I just had what is definitely in the running for World’s Worst Blueberry Muffin. I like muffins…they’re lovely for brunch with fresh coffee. Too bad I can’t seem to find them. A muffin does not:
– have a peak or cracks on top (oven too hot during baking)
– have “air tunnels” inside (too much flour/too little liquid, overmixing)
– have a heavy, dense texture (too little leavening, oven too slow, batter set too long, overmixing)
– feel greasy (I know corn is subsidised, so it’s cheap, but jeezus, easy on the oil)
– have a tough crust (oven too slow, overbaking)
– have a sticky crust (stop trying to shave two minutes off the baking time and let them cool completely, dumbasses–you’re not saving that much money)
The perfect muffin has a rounded top, a lightly browned crust, and no oily residue on the outside. It has a light texture with small bubbles inside (bubbles, not tunnels), and holds its shape when broken apart.
All I want is a decent muffin, or at least an edible one. Short of baking the goddamned things myself (the avoidance of which is the whole point of buying them), they don’t seem to exist. I’ve tried Dunkin Donuts (Krispy Kreme doesn’t have them), Hostess, Little Debbie, and every store bakery within a 35 mile radius. Not a single one of them gets it right. I don’t want an overmixed, underbaked blob of flour and corn oil that makes me want to gag, I want…a muffin. Granted, most commercial bakeries do suck, but facrissake, Tim Hortons can get it right, and I think I baked my first batch at the age of thirteen. If a thirteen-year-old can do it, surely professionals can! If I lived closer to the border, there would be Timmy’s here, but nooooo, there’s nothing good in this festering armpit of America. I’m not baking my own…that’s what I pay them to do when I buy the fucking things. I want a Tim Hortons apple chunk muffin and a “medium, milk and Twin”, and I want it right-fucking-now.
As an amateur basement chemist: Any more it is near impossible to talk about about chemistry in any public place because everybody thinks you are trying to build bombs. Yes, bombs are fun, but there is cooler stuff out there.
Case and Point: Friends and I are talking about distilling Moonshine out of Mash using our chemistry knowledge while sitting at a Quiznos. Guy comes up to us and start to lecture us on how we are all terrorist and are going to blow something up and the government is going to get us.
One: You are from the US Midwest. Two: You are illiterate. I hate you. Every day, I have to listen to people who have absolutely no idea that neither the words “any more” nor the word “anymore” ever belong at the beginning of a sentence. I’m married to one, for Christ’s sake. Every time they say that, I want to slap them just for being stupid Midwesterners and then stuff their heads in the “stool”. Also, cretin, the phrase is “case in point”, not “case and point”. Read something that doesn’t have “Spiderman” on the cover once in a while, and you might know that. Your way doesn’t even make any fucking sense. Neither moonshine nor mash is a proper name, so unless you’re German, in which case your verbs had better be at the end of the sentence, they don’t get capital letters. Oh, and if you think anyone believes for a moment that the conversation you described ever took place, you are deluded. You and one of your loser friends (or more likely, your loser cousin) were on your lunch break from your jobs at Quiznos, talking about moonshine and how you wish you knew how to make it because it’s too expensive to drink on your salary, and one of you said, “Yuk-yuk, the gub’mint’d prolly think we’us turrists. Haw haw…dang, that’d be funny!” I hate you all, you worthless redneck douchebags.
Jesus Christ, man. You insist upon that “medium thumbnails” presentation, so just five images on your front page, and four of them are the same goddamned cat. I may not get out much, but at least I don’t torture viewers with 80% cat photos. Here is the cat, sleeping. Here is the cat, not sleeping. Here is the cat in the window. Here is the cat not in the window. Here is the cat on the floor. Here is the cat not on the floor. Here is the cat inside. Here is the cat outside. Christ…wake me up when there’s something worth looking at, okay? Fuck it–I’m not even logging in. I have work to do (or that’s my excuse…heh).
Okay, okay…so these are neither pinhead crickets nor flightless fruit flies (nope, not wingless, either), but it’s not my fault there’s a damned shoe store right next to the only place within a 70 mile radius of my house that actually had live fruit flies (that were still actually alive) for sale, is it? Baby manti-duds gotta eat! 😀
I hadn’t had any luck last weekend finding “everyday” shoes. My goal had been to get something in plain black smooth leather, low-heeled and comfortable, that I could get on and off easily, and could wear for hours (without discomfort) with jeans or casual pants. There was all sorts of trendy stuff, and even more that was just plain fugly, so I didn’t come home with anything. When P. and I went after the FFF today, he noticed the shoe store next to the pet store and suggested we go see whether they had anything that would suit me. He doesn’t mind shopping for shoes or clothes with me because I like it about as much as he does, so I don’t fuck around. I can get “lost” for hours in a pet store or computer store, but I shop for shoes and clothes like the US Marines–go in, do what I have to do, and get the hell out. I do try them on, and especially if the store is a long distance from home, but I’m fast. I quickly found the display of the sort of thing I wanted, and found a pair that were pretty much what I was looking for…and then I saw these.
I don’t like actual cowboy boots, but these aren’t boots, they aren’t cockroach killers (the toe is squared) and for some reason, I just had to have them. I liked the other ones well enough, and I suppose they’d have been more practical, but these ones just had to come home with me–they insisted! P. found the right size for me (bless him, since I hate looking through racks), and I tried them on, then he suggested I walk to the end of the store in them, and by the time I made it to the Employees Only door, I was sold. I have no idea why I needed them, but I did. Maybe the 2.5″ heel that puts me a RCH over 6′ tall and does an excellent job of making my legs look longer (and more slender, with the addition of low-waisted boot-cut jeans and a wide black belt). Dunno, but I don’t like shoes enough to be willing to disregard “I need these!” and sometimes, you do things just for the hell of it. Got the shitkickers, so now Ima go find Toby Keith and we goan’ open up a can o’ whup-ass on sumthin’. Yee-HAW! 😉
Somewhere, there have to be fonts and sizes specified not only for titles and headings, but the goddamned sidebar, and the fucking post text itself! I can change anything but sidebar in “Pingouin Cerise”, and everything but the post text in Manticore. What, exactly, do I want to change? The sidebar in “Pengouin Cerise” and the post text in Manticore, which I understand is called the “story”, not that the stylesheet seems to know what the fuck that means.
Fuck it. I’m tired of this now…I’m gonna go find some pinheads and FFF/WFF. GRRRR!
When I accidentally overwrite the sidebar that has the calendar with the old one that didn’t, just stick this in under the search…
< ?php get_calendar(2); ?>
Now…that gets me out of making it widget-aware, which was waaaaay too much trouble for a simple goddamned calendar, but I’m not sure I like the font anymore, so off to style.css. How much CSS do I know? Fuck all–this should be fun! 😀