This happened to a coworker of mine recently. A patron called to say she wanted to obtain a birth certificate for someone born in 1945. The librarian explained that the Health Department would only give out copies of birth certificates to family members - was the person a family member? The patron said no, the person was a character in a book she was writing. Did she mean that she was writing a book about a real person, or someone based on a real person?
No -- the character was entirely a product of her imagination. She then said that the reason she wanted the birth certificate was that it would list the character's mother's maiden name, and that was really what she wanted to find out. At this point my coworker told her there wasn't anything we could do to help her.
(from the librarian avengers
my cataloging professor
calls parentheses 'curves.'
seemingly-most-common spot for tattoos
on ksu slis
students: lower back.
i will feel so lonely and unpopular when no one takes my friend test
i just finished that anne heche
book, call me crazy
. and, like, what a letdown. you're 213 pages into the thing before she and ellen
have sex. apparently, she's under the impression that people are more interested in reading about her abusive childhood and the ecstasy-fueled 'message of love' that she brings as 'celestia,' the second coming of jesus, than they are in reading about celebrity lesbian sex.
it's like the kind of poetry that people write when they're more interested in catharsis than they are in poetry. not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just that there's no reason anyone would want to read it.
mostly-unrelated news, though heche did just get married: the pope has just said that catholic lawyers should not work on divorce cases, and should instead try to help people work out their differences and stay married. first thing that comes to mind: the catholic church is also opposed to the death penalty. i'm not sure if j.p. was speaking with the full weight of the holy roman empire behind him or just off the top of his head, though my impression is that for devout catholics, it doesn't really matter.
i want to include more library school
stuff in this weblog.
why can't i find my flesh tunnels? dammit. and if i'm going to buy a 5/8" pair, should i get silver stainless or black titanium?
funny that the presence of a police officer in the house makes me feel like i have to leave. no, wait, that's not funny.
where the hell did i put my flesh tunnels?
hall & oates played the apollo with eddie kendricks and david ruffin.
Chin****l (7:06:45 PM): ... what the fuck is she thinking?
i returned from columbus, and now i'm at the computer lab. as is often the case, the lab is completely empty.
hmm. maybe trillian
work okay together after all.
hmm. okay, it doesn't look like trillian works w/blogbot. that's a big downside. here's another: like icq99, it won't let you move the contacts window to the second monitor.
My theory is you're only cool as long as you never think about it. Once you start thinking whether or not you're cool, you become part of that 80% who are status-hungry assholes. I want to set up some sort of Schroedinger's Cat type experiment where I put a cat in a box. I don't know all the details, and I guess the cat would have to be cool or uncool, or both until observed. Then we can prove that a cat is cool until observed and made aware of its coolness. The trick here would be finding a cat that you could teach to think it's cool. Okay, so maybe that's not exactly like Schroedinger, but it would still be really fun to stick a cat in a box.
(from the filthy critic
filed for bankruptcy today, and they still owe martha stewart living omnimedia (great name) $13 million. awesome
cheap trick--they're so weird. they look like people from four different groups. and does the drummer, bun e. carlos, really smoke that much, or is that sort of his shtick?
wow, i sure do loathe rod stewart.
besides articles about online personal ads
, kent state
's student magazine
also offers an article
about the small-time marijuana
dealer. fascinating stuff. no, not really.
where can i find a copy of dr. dre and ice cube's video for 'natural born killers'? i wonder if it's on any compilations or whatnot, especially since it's one of those videos that mtv refused to play. the reason they cited was the video's, uh, novel theory on the murders of ron goldman and nicole brown simpson: andre and o'shea did it.
"i don't want to be categorized as the gay guy."--someone on 'the real world,' who clearly didn't think the whole way through his decision to appear on the program.
i had a dream last night where i was at some sort of cocktail party thing, and i met eddie george (football player--i believe he went to ohio state, and i believe he won the heisman. i'm gathering this information from mtv's cribs.) update:
i don't know why i didn't mention this earlier, as this was kind of the point of the dream: eddie george gave me some advice. he told me to keep my glasses clean.
ooh, this law & order has eric bogosian in it.
roseanne--clearly out of her goddamn mind. i didn't even remember that 'saturday night special' program's existence.
wow, i didn't know roseanne
worked at a bennigan's
. and i sure as hell didn't know she opened for julio iglaseas, whose name i am seemingly incapable of spelling correctly, and too lazy to look up.
right now i'm not back from the dentist, i'm at the stow public library
. and i didn't just get a root canal, i just got very anxious and embarrassed and teary. when i've been visiting the dentist in arkansas lately, they've been giving me tons of nitrous oxide
, and i've kinda forgotten just how much i despise going to the dentist, and how uncomfortable it makes me. plus i'm pretty fond of this new dentist
, and i'd hoped very much that i wouldn't be uncomfortable or worried or whatnot.
but, like, they were putting the bib deal on me and i was getting tense. by the time they put the local-anaesthetic-soaked cotton in my mouth i'm in a cold sweat. and when the needle w/ lidocaine went in, tears started pouring down my face, and i felt like i would sooner die than recline in that chair any longer. (dentist: "i hate to see a grown man cry." i realize the humorous intent, but, like, way to make a bad situation worse.) the hygienist
gave me one of those, like, stress balls, to squeeze while they got the second needle ready, and i said "what good is this going to do?" my lame attempt at humor didn't make me any more at ease.
so i said something about how i just can't go through with this, or similar. it was horrible. dr. pung called her pals at, like, the endodontic surgery place, and i have to go see them (mercifully, just for an examination or consultation or something along those lines) later this afternoon. apparently they can give me something for my anxiety. i'm hoping they'll just put me to sleep entirely, because i totally can't handle the dentist. i thought i could, but i certainly can't.
(off topic: as long as my nose is numb, maybe i should have someone stick a taper through my septum piercing. i don't find that at all stressful, but i sure find it painful.)
i could barely contain myself while, like, talking to the dentist and hygienist. i kept apologizing, and then they would say it was okay or whatnot. simply awful. (they also asked if i had someone who could drive me home afterward, which speaks to a completely different set of things to cry about.) and i wasn't even the whole way to my car before i was, like, screaming and crying at the same time. it wasn't long before i was weaving all over darrow road at fifteen under the speed limit, among other reasons because my eyes were too full of tears to see very well. thinking about it now is making me tear up all over again.
what's wrong with me? i don't think it's anything a root canal is going to solve.
the stow public library has playstations
? spend that money on some freaking ram.
okay, i've been on hold with best buy long enough to hear muzak versions of something that sounds like matchbox twenty (nee 20), plugs for the bb website and a 'secret' about best buy gift cards. they're made from the bones of aborted babies, they can be redeemed at circuit city locations for seven times the marked amount and bb is using them to collect dna from everyone in america. actually, the 'secret' is that they make good gifts. screw this shit. i don't need an lcd *that* badly.
there's a show on gtv
, the 'good life' network, called 'heroes and sheroes.' my lord, that's a terrible name.
woowoo, i fixed my code problems. now i want to do a cosmetic redesign. but i'm so lazy. i'm going to take a nap.
Phil Ringnalda is my rhymin' hero!
his blogger help pages
are the jam. i was able to fix my problems like lickety split.
why am i getting all these posting errors?
here i am in the lab for my very first day of work this semester. now this is exciting.
"i feel like i'm playing chess in a baseball stadium--the plate is too big."--gentleman on iron chef
woowoo, aretha's visiting. it's wonderful we just got back from the acme: freschetta pizza; dr. pepper; barq's root beer; deer park water; pipe cleaners; choco liebniz cookies; lime spritzer cookies; clam chowder; steak, cheese and baked potato soup; and a mozart piano bar, the last largely because of the name but also because i was way curious about, like, pistachio and hazelnut in combination. at least something of a letdown there.
ooh, i wonder if all my blogger
posting will work, what with recent iffiness. i kinda suspect it will. i might well get a nonsensical java
people go through whole long careers in gay porn without sucking nearly as much ass as creed.
"got the coke and pepsi, to be politically correct"--howie d, backstreet boys, on cribs
"got the coke and pepsi, to be politically correct"--howie d, backstreet boys, on cribs
we haven't gotten any mail for at least a week. i think the mailman kind of hates us, though it's also possible he just, like, doesn't wish to fall to his death on the icy walk.
i'm so happy i don't have to see that levi's singing navel commercial any more.
will blogbuddy work? hmm.