This is my friend Cynthia's most recent Facebook status update:
Cynthia (Blank): ' Word07 would like me to replace the word "spline" with "spleen". My sentence now reads: "...this data set was calculated using a multivariate cubic spleen interpolation." '
This reminded me of the time I was updating my résumé (which I just typed six different times with and without accents and it looks equally stupid both ways, so clearly I'm just having a moment, like that time when I was nine and there were a few hours where I couldn't say the word 'closet' without feeling really strange) and trying to type that I had volunteered at a camp for children with oncological diseases, and the word processing problem kept trying to substitute the word 'ontological'. Because yeah, the camp wasn't for kids with cancer, it was for kids who wonder why we're here and what it's all about.
Cynthia is cool. And pretty. And smart. She almost has a Ph.D. She calculates data sets using her spleen (and possibly her liver). She won triathlons all over the world, then her feet got unhappy and now she wins bike races all over the world. However, this is not why I love her. I love her because when Eve was being bullied last year she wrote on Facebook "Don't worry. Eve will grow up to be happy and successful and the other girl will grow up to be a crack whore. No wait... crack whore's assistant." That's fabulous, is it not?
I also love Cynthia for giving me a blog post that isn't only about the weird shower I had this morning, where I felt a little short of breath so tried to take a deep breath, then abruptly started sobbing huge, ludicrous, face-contorting sobs, then started laughing at the same time when I realized I couldn't even unscrunch my face enough to wash it. The medication switch has been going better than I expected, but this morning was a little rocky. Anybody want to start a camp for emotionally volatile people who periodically feel suspicious of the word 'closet' with me?