The Days & Nights of the Lipstick Librarian!

Personality Disorder, Schmersonality Disorder

Just how close are we to adding literacy as a DSM-IV disorder?

But Did They Receive a Book Cart as a Wedding Present?

You might want to think twice about getting married in a library--at least when it comes to the photos.

Or if you're holding a wedding in a fake library, make sure the background looks real.

(Thanks to List of the Day for the heads up.)

Kureru This!

From one of my favorite blogs, Hanzi Smatter: a librarian with a tattoo that's inadvertently signaling a willingness to give more than just reference help.

Video Clip du Jour Dept: As always, Mr. Spock speaks Truth. Word.

A Two 'Fer

Not satisfied with the all those web sites helping you recommend young adult books to the bored teen who insists on leaving her iPod earbuds in when asking questions? Why not give Radar Magazine a try?

Is it wrong of me to love this movie trailer so much? (Hint: The R-rated version is much funnier....)

Lipstick Librarian Agonistes

I started the year with a sneeze.

Several sneezes, actually. Then came the massive congestion and fatigue. Great--I've got the library cold. So how did I spend my first day sick? Here's a peek....

8:30 am: Wake up with a mouth drier than Lindsay Lohan during a DUI court appearance. Realizing I've been snoring throughout the night, I ask my husband if it bothered him. Husband replies, using words like "unholy" and "Darth Vader". I retaliate with loud mouth breathing until he gets up and starts breakfast.

8:50: Begin shuffling around the house searching for tissues. Find two boxes shoved under the bed from my last cold. Both are three-quarters empty. I sniffle into a wad of tissues then crumple them into my pajama sleeves and waistband.

9:00: Lie on sofa and begin to moan. Husband sighs and turns up the heat under the kettle, making it whistle louder.

9:05: Go into the kitchen and begin fruitless attempts at treating cold by pouring four packets of Emergen-C into a glass of orange juice and swig it down, alternating gulps with fistfuls of ibuprofen. Stomach decides to let me know it doesn't like the treatment by sending waves of constricting pain after each swallow. Decide the best tactic is a strong tea chaser.

9:15: Go back to the sofa and lie down again. Realize I need a blanket and floofy socks but don't want to get up again. Decide to tough it out by scrunching my feet between the sofa cushions for warmth.

9:17: Husband rolls his eyes at the sight of contorted limbs squashed into sofa. Sighs and retrieves floofy socks for me. I thank him profusely, turn on Access Hollywood and fall asleep.

11:31: Wake up to the face of a scary lady on some Christian network show. I get up and begin clattering around the kitchen. After stacking enough cans on the kitchen counter to feed three families for a week, I find an ancient can of chicken noodle soup. Resume clattering with search for soup pan.

11:55: Return to sofa and suck down soup in ten minutes. Husband appalled at brutal slurping sounds. Ignore husband and fall asleep again, this time to sounds of Law & Order. Get cranky whenever the "dun-dun" sound disturbs my nap.

1:00 pm: Wake up for awhile and decide I'm bored out of my mind. Get up and dig for laptop buried under unfolded clothes. Fire up laptop and check e-mail.

1:05: Check Facebook page.

1:07: Check Myspace page.

1:08: Check Goodreads page

1:10: Check "Best of Craiglist" postings. Sneak peek at "Men seeking Women" postings. Get depressed and decide that husband must never die and leave me at the mercy of bald men with teeny pictures seeking a HWP, 420-friendly woman. Or any woman.

1:20 Go back to Facebook/Myspace/Goodreads. No updates.

3:00: Take a shower. Since there's no clean laundry I am reduced to wearing the old mom underwear I swiped from mom (oddly enough) in 1985. Try to spiff them up by writing "Thug Life" over the "Bali" imprinted on the waistband with a Sharpie. Husband not impressed with my ingenuity.

3:45: Fall asleep again, forgetting to recap the Sharpie. Wake up to find a black amoeba-shaped spot on my pajama bottoms.

6:00: Now really bored. Resort to pestering husband with questions about past girlfriends. Husband responds with whimpers and a sudden interest in French neo-punk bands on eMusic.

6:45: Become hungry and more than little annoyed with the trail of crumpled tissues littering the house. Husband now ensconced upstairs.

8:30: Completely exhausted by the day's events, I fall asleep while steaming sinuses over newly-washed soup pan.

8:42: Go to bed with intent of reading a book. Wind up passing out underneath a pile of Star Magazine, UsWeekly and proliferating tissues. Do not notice husband sleeping in bathtub until a 2:00 am trip to the bathroom.

Who says I don't make a good sick person?

What I'm Listening To: Untrue by Burial. If I listen too closely I find myself sneezing in time with the trancelike beat.

Is Your Librarian Wearing a Blue Cardigan?

Still not convinced librarians and gang members have similar inclinations? More evidence, to wit:

• Gangs organize around race or ethnic group, money-making activities or territories.
• Librarians will not only organize around the aforementioned criteria, they'll pick ILS', disagreements over library conference locations, and a mutual suspicion of serials catalogers as reasons to create a new social network.


• Gangs claim a particular area of town which they call their "turf". They spend much of their time fighting rival gangs to keep them out of this territory.
• Librarians claim a particular area of the profession they call "associations" or "divisions". They spend much of their time developing Powerpoint presentations to keep other librarians thanking their lucky stars they decided upon another specialty.


• In gangs, females are moving away from the traditional role of being merely girlfriends, forming their own gangs
• In librarianship, males are moving away from their traditional roles of being merely librarian directors and gurus, forming their own cliques as systems librarians as evidenced by the slightly longer lines for the men's restrooms at ASIS&T Conferences.


• "Gangsta" rap paints a realistic picture of daily gang activity. The lyrics glorify violence and abuse of women and promote disrespect for authority, especially the police.
• Library webcasts paint a realistic picture of the kinds of arcane/convoluted questions librarians will ask before they decide to implement a new technology or procedure that may promote eye rolling from beleaguered library assistants

I rest my case.

Let's Go Do Some Crimes Dept: In the past I've posted about how being a librarian is the perfect cover for committing crimes. Looks like someone out there took it to heart.

Let's Go Do Some Jams Dept: We all know the New York Times sees us as post-millennial darlings. Do you think their vision included roller derby?