*cough*

November 16, 2009


*cough*

It isn’t so much the cough itself, though it’s persisted for 10 days, comes and goes as it pleases, creates excruciating bad breath and fills my throat with an occasional rattle.

It’s the noise.

As in, a sharp warning to all around me. “Watch out,” it says, “Sicko coming through. Take cover and hide your children.”

I know the sound of a cough is lost in the din as things get colder – and, therefore, better filled with the sound of a billion additional coughs. But I still imagine others hear it as I do.

Loud. Filling the room like a Labrador bark. Dripping with disease, stagnating in the air, presenting a biological hazard as it floats through doorways.

I cough, and I know others roll their eyes. I cough, and I imagine the backhanded comments. I cough, and I feel the glare of overprotective mothers, of health care professionals, of cubicle-mates who would rather not end up with bronchitis.

I’ve been branded. And until this scarlet “C” has been wiped away, I’ll always feel self-conscious.

*cough*

Tags: Annoyances, Vilhauer |

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Frosted animal crackers

October 4, 2009


Today, on the way back from the South Dakota Festival of Books, Kerrie purchased some frosted animal crackers from the Al’s Oasis grocery store.

Up until this point, it had been a rough ride. Kerrie was riding shotgun with a 103-degree fever. I was still feeling the after-effects of a restless night bouncing between two beds. Isaac was tired of the car, and Sierra was simply tired. No one was happy. Everyone was frustrated. The car ride needed some lightening up.

The animal crackers were supposed to be that lightening up.

Hopping back in the car and turning out of the parking lot, Kerrie grabbed the bag of crackers. Anticipation peaked.

Kerrie opened them up and groaned.

Because the package revealed nothing of the product’s actual makeup, we were expecting the classic frosted animal crackers. True animal crackers with a slight streak of frosting. These weren’t frosted; they were dipped in mediocre cake frosting, dotted with sprinkles and lacking anything remotely like a classic animal cracker. In fact, in the fine print, we realized they were, in fact, “animal shaped shortbread cookies.”

Kerrie took one bite. “Ugh.” She threw the other bite back in the bag.

I took a bite. “Gross.”

Kerrie, without thinking, reached in and took another bite, this time to confirm her suspicions. “Ick.”

We sulked. Yet, a few hours later, I found myself snacking on them.

What’s more, so did Kerrie.

And while she had the good sense to stop after a handful, I kept shoving them in my mouth. I didn’t like them, but at the time, I had nothing else to go by.

As I was driving, I thought to myself, “There’s a life lesson here somewhere.”

I flipped on my blinker, passed another car, and kept on my way.

Tags: Annoyances, On... |

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Mirar fijamente

August 27, 2009


nullEvery question is followed with a soul-piercing stare.

Deep brown eyes, round like a Fiestaware bowl, with a raisin of a black dot floating in the center. Occasionally blinking, but always staring. Right at you. Waiting for an answer. Waiting for the right words.

The stare is partnered with a wide smile – the kind of smile that’s cute when alone, but unsettling when paired with two burrowing eyes. A stare that isn’t swayed by time, either – it will continue to burrow through your brain until it feels it should stop.

And it’s not just once. It happens several times over a half hour. A question. A look to the audience. A sidekick mimicking the act, failing to grasp the same creepiness but still working in concert with the original. Two stares now. TWO STARES.

That’s what unnerves me. I’d have thought the DVD was frozen if it wasn’t for the unfeeling blinks that accompany each stare.

Where’s the answer, kids?

Keep trying.

Staring. Staring. STARING STARING STARING.

This is why I’m thankful it’s taken two years for Sierra to get into Dora the Explorer. The songs, the repetition, the odd mix of Spanish and English – these don’t bother me.

But those stares. * shudder *

Tags: Annoyances, Sierra, Television |

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The most hideous creatures

August 17, 2009


You never forget the first time you see an earwig.

Slimy without actually being wet, like the traditional stereotype of a used-car salesman; creepy in a way that most modern horror films wish they could emulate; as invasive as spilled mercury through the slats of hardwood flooring.

If you haven’t seen them before, consider yourself free. Free from the knowledge that such hideous squirming insects can even exist. Free from the horror of uncovering one in a peach; or between two rocks; or frantically writhing toward water, searching for salvation from the heat and dryness that seem to be their only downfall.

1984′s Winston Smith surely never knew about earwigs. There’s no way his final cage would have been filled with rats, otherwise.

They aren’t harmful (aside from creating earsplitting screams within your psyche). But they’re despicable little creatures, able to flatten to unimaginable depths, able to crawl THROUGH THE RIDGES OF A TUPPERWARE LID – indeed, they enter where even the last gasps of an airtight burp are driven out.

I first experienced them while spending time with my grandparents in Wyoming – they were brought in by hiding in foreign wood, deposited unceremoniously in our backyard, where they would squeeze through the threads of my grandmother’s hummingbird feeder and drown in a soupy mess of sucrose.

They are awful. And they’re in my backyard.

If you’re still curious, click here. I won’t sully this site with their repulsiveness.

Tags: Annoyances, On..., Science, Vilhauer |

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A poor return on investment

August 15, 2009


If you’re lucky, you only have to hop online and fill out a 30-field Web form.

Most of the time, though, it’s not that easy. It’s copying a receipt. Filling out a registration card. Cutting out a proof of purchase. Reading a complex set of directions written by a legal department, deciphering a stream of nonsense and piecing together the elements that make up a completed project. Three slips of paper; an address that doesn’t even have a department number or company name, just a random product code and P.O. Box.

You find an envelope. You add a stamp. You scribble the address, taking careful pains not to write the wrong zip code or product number or other impossible integer/letter combination.

You check and recheck your contents. You wait four weeks.

You get a check for four dollars. And as you’re endorsing it, you wonder if product rebates are even worth the trouble. Gauging from the return on investment, you suspect you know the answer.

Tags: Annoyances |

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Weather or not

June 8, 2009


Weather, by nature, changes. It is constantly changing. Even in areas where the weather seems stable and constant, it’s not – it’s simply in a range that is more comfortable, staying clear of the extremes that we can’t help but notice.

Weather, by nature, is also unpredictable – especially in a city like Sioux Falls, where we experience nose-hair freezing lows and egg-boiling highs. It’s not uncommon to see snow in early May, or to be hit with a sudden heat wave in November.

Which brings me to wonder how, after a week of beautiful days, the collective mind of Sioux Falls can explode over the idea of rain.

It’s enough to send Kerrie into a frantic search for earmuffs. She hears it doubly – as the average age of a workplace grows, I suspect the percentage of weather-based conversation grows proportionately.

It works like this. When there’s space to fill, you talk about the weather. And when the weather is anything less than perfect – which is always, despite everyone’s understanding that weather is fluid and constantly changing – you complain about the weather.

Today, even though the rain has gone, people still complain.

From my window, I can tell it’s not a bright sunny day. I know it’s not 80 degrees.

But it’s not raining anymore. It’s actually kind of a nice day.

We don’t live in Siberia, or the deserts of Africa. Hell, we don’t even live in St. Cloud, where winter lasts 8 months. We get the best of both worlds, with the understanding that we also get the worst of both.

So can we stop complaining about the weather?

Please?

Tags: Annoyances, Sioux Falls |

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Four slashed tires and 24 hours of doubt

December 23, 2008


I awoke this morning to four flat tires.

Four slashed tires.

Four cut tires, with no motive, no reason. No malice intended, no perceived slights. Nothing to suggest that it was deserved.

Just four meaningless tires, rendered useless.

It bothers me. A lot.

It isn’t the damage that throws my mind in circles – we have insurance, and they’re just tires. It’s the action – the willful destruction. Both of the tires and of my time.

Was it something we did?

I spend a lot of time taking stock of how others perceive me, constantly readjusting my speech and actions in order to keep clear of my natural ability to be overbearing and pompous. At times, I find myself lapsing into an elitist, sarcastic monster, my ego rising above accepted norms and spilling around me, splashing vitriol onto those close to me, a weak side developed through years of defending my geekitude and fighting for acceptance.

It’s this monster that gets the best of me, that can make me an unsavory person to be around. It’s the Corey that grouses about perceived slights, that fights for completism, for an expert status that says “I’m the best.” It’s pure ego, and I often hate it.

So when seemingly random attacks – like the slashing of our tires – occur, they send my mind into overdrive. I think back at who I could have pissed off, apologizing to myself and to my past. When I can’t think of anything, everything goes haywire. Who am I forgetting? Why did this happen?

I search for meaning in actions that have no meaning.

And with all of this in mind, it makes me even more perplexed to the idea that it was done by random – that the destruction of personal property and the stealing of precious time and, in some cases, personal dignity is justified by a wonton recklessness – that smashing that pumpkin, that kicking over that plant, that causing any kind of grief is really worth the heavy conscience or the danger of being caught.

It’s that – the thrill of destruction and pain – that I’ll never get.

I’ve been asked, jokingly, whether I had any enemies who could have done this.

What makes me more frustrated is that, in the case of enemies, I’d be accepting it. I’d be angry. But I wouldn’t be hurt. I’d know that I probably deserved it – could pin point a culprit and assign blame.

But this is frustrating. It’s random. It’s not meant as a question of my character, or of my hidden demons. It’s thoughtless and meaningless. And that’s what gnaws at me.

That it could have been anyone, and instead it was us.

Tags: Annoyances, On..., Sioux Falls, Vilhauer |

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