On Thursday I was challenged twice.  The first was at 6 a.m. when I went to drop off my car at the mechanics and a bunch of picketers started yelling at me.  “Do you know what’s going on here?” Well no, I didn’t, but I had come here so that people would get all up in my car’s grill, not mine, so I ignored them and left my car and went on my merry way.

I was curious enough to read the brochure they gave me later, though.  It was pretty bad.  A new owner had bought the place and fired all the senior workers and replaced them with less expensive, just-out-of-college talent--many of whom hadn’t even been professionally certified.  I recognized many of the people who were on strike as mechanics who had maintenanced my car for years; the place’s current workforce were all scabs.

My response to this?  Screw you, picketers, because you bothered me at six in the morning.  But screw you even more to the new owners who fired all the people I remember.  I’m never coming back, and I hope all the cars in your shop suddenly burst to life and go all Christine on you.

I was challenged again 18 hours later at the midnight screening for Serenity.  I thought I was feeling pretty good and dorky with my “Sunnydale High School Dept. of Phys. Ed” shirt, but some girl said “Nice shirt; how about mine?” And it was a Trogdor the Burninator shirt, which I had never heard of, although I looked it up later and it’s apparently some HomestarRunner thing.  She actually looked offended that I didn’t get the reference.  I think we all need to be confident and secure in our own geekiness--mine, which is the endearing, non-threatening kind, and hers, which is a completely different species and phylum.

I spent a good chunk of this weekend in Sacramento helping my friend prepare a bedroom for his new baby.  It took longer than we thought, because it wasn’t just painting a room--it was painting it two toned, with molding running across each wall to separate the colors, as well as hanging curtains and attaching shelves.

I said, “Why two toned?  Babies don’t appreciate color contrasts.”

“It’s really for the parents, more than the baby.”

I said, “Why do the curtains say ‘Love’ on them?  Babies can’t read for several years, or even longer in the case of Tara Reid.”

“We think it’s cute.”

I said, “Why are we hanging shelves?  Babies are too small to pick things up and then put them back.”

”Shut up and paint.  When you have kids of your own you’ll understand.”

People with babies always say things like that.  In point of fact, I have no plans to have kids of my own--which is why I finally stopped going to that weekly lamaze class.  What waste of time and money that was.