Sifl, you know the problems I've been having with touching things.

baby dreams

2008-08-29T09:15:00.004-04:00

I had a dream last night that I was pregnant with twins and I could see the outline of their little bodies pressing through my stomach. Suddenly one of them was born and I was really worried that it wouldn't live b/c it was two months early but then when I looked at it I noticed it wasn't a baby...it was a grown up. It was one of my friends. Actually, it was more like the idea of "one of your fully grown friends" because it wasn't any specific person. I just knew that I knew this person and that it was an adult that could take care of itself. I was sad b/c I had wanted a tiny baby and it was like being given an old adult cat when you're expecting a kitten (I actually thought of that simile in the dream). So anyway, only one of the twins was born and the other was still in there pressing around on my guts. And I asked someone when the other one would be born b/c it didn't seem to be in much of a hurry. And they said that the other baby might wait another 2 months till it was time to be born. And I wondered if my babies could still be considered twins in that case. And then I became convinced that the baby inside of me was dead and that we'd never be able to get it out. It'd just stay in there and my body would very very slowly absorb it. And then I wanted it out...really really bad. And that was the end of the dream.

I blame all of you pregnant people I know.

recent things that have happened

2008-08-27T16:26:00.002-04:00

got some boots, went to the adirondacks, ate lasagna, ordered a burmese cookbook for pete, suggested a book to a friend, wrote a shitty speech, continued stalking that internet girl in california, considered making a blog that's just about her blog, put pictures on flickr, cut back on drinking, quit smoking (on a regular basis), hung out with bryn and conway, bought a dress that looks like a candy striper uniform...these are the things life is made of.

I'm stalking you.

2008-07-31T10:24:00.005-04:00

So there's this person--a complete stranger--that I internet stalk. Not like with a vengeance or anything. It's not all ready and grabby and eager like. Just casually. I casually read her blog and look at her pictures. Sometimes I cheer for her and sometimes I cringe. I try to create a timeline of her life through her photos and stories. I know about her past jobs but her current job remains a mystery. Something with the government. I'm guessing it's the state government. I know she's been dating the same guy for a long time and they often have problems. I don't know what the exact problems are. She used to blog about her friends but she seldomly does anymore. She often comes out--unintentionally I think--sounding like Ethan Hawke's character in Reality Bites. Embarrassingly dramatic. It makes me empathize with her more. I know I do that too. I know that she loves her mom but I know nothing about her dad. I know about her pet and her money problems but I don't know if she finished college or what her major was. She lives on the west coast. She's younger than me. She changes her hair style often and I think her new cut and color suits her better than the long, black hair did. Her friends look like my friends and I'm sure our boyfriends would get along. She seems perpetually displeased or unhappy but I think she's happiest when she's unhappy. She's very petite and pale and has a bad attitude. I often want to comment on her blog but I think that she'd make a snarky comment back at me about reading it. It'd be something mean but predictable. Something about how I should get a life and stop reading about hers. And it would imply, in a very insincere way, that she didn't want a stranger following her life. But that's crap because all bloggers want people to follow their life. And I am. I am following the minutae of her existence and it's not creepy. It's entertainment.

Things I Want...

2008-07-31T09:26:00.003-04:00

In no particular order.

1. More money in my savings account. At least another $5,000.
2. A Roth IRA. (Oooh, and the ability to max it out every year.)
3. The Loretta Lynn box set. ($20-$30)
4. A new, fancy, fake Christmas tree from http://www.balsamhill.com/. (Can't get one yet but hopefully I'll get one closer to Christmas. Between $250+. But I'm only willing to spend $200-$350.)
5. A pair of Frye boots. Actually...so long as I'm dreaming. Several pairs of Frye boots. They're betwen $300 and $550 a pair.
6. The Twilight Zone box set. ($200)
7. Finished lower left arm sleeve. (This happens in about a month. $400 and that includes tip and gas money to Pittsburgh.)
8. Knuckle tats. (Probably $150ish.)

There's more but these are the things I think about most. For the most part, 1 & 2 depend on me not having 3-8. Or, to be more accurate, to have at least some of 3-8, 1 & 2 will have to be put on hold for a few months. Actually, I'm probably not going to set up the Roth until I hit my GS 12 in January. Woo hoo! GS 12!!!

Can I really start again?

2008-07-29T09:14:00.002-04:00

How will I attract a new audience of blog readers? All my old blog readers stopped checking in to see if I had posted months ago. I'm sorry. I got bored with it. And life became happier. There's nothing to blog about when you're happy. Seriously.

If you read this, tell me how to reattract you as my reader. Or how to attract you anew.

Heath Ledger...Totally Dead

2008-01-23T07:28:00.000-05:00

I nearly choked on my English muffin when I read that. Seriously? Like, Heath Ledger? Dead? Sleeping pills? Really? I'm actually stunned.

Baby's First Steps

2008-01-15T07:30:00.000-05:00

So the new camera is awesome and playing with it is sort of like doing homework except fun. Thanks to Pete, I now have a general understanding of my aperature and shutter speed and how they relate to one another and how they can be manipulated for more interesting images. I also played with the metering to get an idea of how the camera was measuring light in different metering modes and--to my surprise--I could actually see the difference in each setting. Pretty basic stuff but it feels good to be slowly learning about my new toy. The real trick is going to be figuring out how to put all this information together once I've learned it and manipulating all that ish to make cool photos. Blah.

But I'm already pretty sure I want to pick up a Raynox 250 conversion lens to do way cooler macros. The flickr group devoted to the Lumix FZ50 has a bunch of pictures up of people that have used it and the results are really super stunning. Very oooh and ahhh.

I also want to figure out how to play with my in camera picture adjustment tools. But one thing at a time I suppose.

So here's some of the pictures I've taken while just fooling around with the camera. They're not awesome or anything but they're what I have so far.

Tree bark.

Terminator.

Terminator down.

TEETH!

Creepo painting lady.

Look at that face. He's begging for food. Again.

Post-food concerned face.

Done and Done

2008-01-09T07:32:00.001-05:00

I ordered a camera. After much pondering I decided to go with the Lumix. Emily's right, the lens quality alone justifies the cost. To get a very basic DSLR body and a smiliar quality lens, I'd be looking at a much heftier investment. I paid for 2 day shipping so it ought to be here in time for me to spend my weekend learning how to use it. Hooray!

Camera Decisions

2008-01-08T10:51:00.001-05:00

I need a new camera. My regular, non-digital point and shoot is about to die and I'm finally feeling like I'm read to take the plunge to digital. But if I'm going to go digitial then I'd rather spend some actual money and get a camera that takes pretty choice photos and that forces me to learn how to actually use it to get those really choice photos. Plus, I have a hunch that if I had a good camera I'd be super into it.

But should I go with a sort of entry-level DSLR or some kind of superzoom DSLR-like camera? Would I even use the options available to me with a DSLR? But at the same time, don't I want options, especially if a superzoom is about the same price as a low-end DSLR?

Here's the cameras I'm looking at so far.

Superzooms

Canon S3 IS

Price: $279.00
It's only 6MP and I was thinking 8 sounded more like a number I could get behind. Why? I've arbitrarily decided that 8MP is the amount that will create good photos. 6MP is clearly too small and 10MP is so big that you're likely just creating an image that takes up more space without sufficiently improving in image quality over 8MP.

Canon S5 IS

Price: $319.00

The S5 is, from what I've read, the S3 but with 8MP. However, from some reviews I've heard that the image quality, especially when pushing the zoom to its limit, is much degraded from the S3. So...maybe the next, more costly generation isn't always better.

Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ50S

Price: $465.88

This guy is really pushing the limit in terms of price. I mean, it's not DSLR but it's sure as crap priced as one. Plus...the reviewers on CNET seem to think that the way cheaper S3 is a better superzoom. Then again, some user reviews say the exact opposite. Hmm.

DSLR

Canon Digital Rebel XT

Price: $469.99 w/lens kit

The reviews on this guy are pretty much always positive. Good image quality, not as heavy as some DSLRs, and--most importantly--a user friendly camera that lends itself to the new DSLR user. Woo!

As you can see, I only have one option picked out if I go the DSLR route. I'm open to suggestions and comments. So yeah, if you know anything about cameras...feel free to share.

Excellent Photo Blog

2008-01-08T09:51:00.001-05:00

If you haven't visited it yet, check out http://www.shorpy.com/. Shorpy has a huge collection of photos from the past hundred years...many of them, like the one below, from WV.

Lunch time at Morgantown Glass Works.

Giant Tumors

2008-01-07T08:42:00.000-05:00

Before this guy started having operations, his tumors weighed about 50 lbs. Now that he's had some removed they're down to about 22 lbs. Dang.

I'm back. Sorta. Kinda.

2008-01-05T09:17:00.000-05:00

I spent an awesome week in WV. Then I came back here and had an amazing new year's and then I promptly got a raging case of strep throat.

So yeah, I was supposed to go back to work on Friday but instead I woke up all shivery and sweaty in my bed. I got dressed and called work to say I was going to the doctor. When I got to the doctor I was all like, "Hey, doctor, I think I have strep throat and an ear infection." And the doctor was all, "When did this start?" And I was like, "Yesterday." And he was like, "Well, it may be too soon to diagnose it." And I was like, "Just have a look." So he did and of course I was right. My right ear was super infected and my glands were swollen and my throat was red and gross and he detected a "puss-like smell that's associated with strep." Mmmm...lunch.

I called work to tell them I wasn't coming in and then made my way to the pharmacy for the meds to make my life better. When I got home it was only 9:30 am. I put Buffy in the DVD player, took some NyQuil, and laid on the couch where I promptly fell asleep. I woke up periodically to take my temperature (102 degrees) or change DVDs but otherwise I slept all day until it was 11:30 pm. Then I got up and went to bed. Woo!

I hate strep. A bunch. And I get it and earaches pretty flipping often. Totally sucks. But what made me mad this time is that I was really looking forward to my Friday night. I had already spent a few days just laying around the house and I was tired of that ish. I had plans to hang out with someone that's really cool and that I enjoy hanging out with. But instead I had to tell him that I had strep and was currently contagious and ask if we could delay our plans until Saturday. But still...I will not be at my usual level of awesome today. I'll be fit to hang out with but I'll be way less interesting and exuberant than normal.

The one bit of good news I have is that Kanye West loves playing Connect four. Crazy...but totally true.

How it's supposed to be...

2007-12-21T22:02:00.000-05:00

My Papa used to make us a lot of toys. He was the one that made us the most realistic toy gun we ever had. He carved the stock out of a 2X4 and somehow managed to add a metal barrel. It was coveted by the three of us and our cousins when they were still young enough to play war.

My favorite toy that he ever made was a stick with a wheel. The stick was more like a skinned branch--thick and sturdy like a hefty cane. The wheel was a screw-in castor wheel...the kind that normally attaches to items of furniture. He'd just screw the wheel into the bottom of the stick/branch and we'd push it around the yard for forever. Sometimes I'd chase my fat, younger cousin around with the stick-wheel. Sometimes I'd just chase the air around. Didn't matter. It was just fun.

The wheel tended to want to turn in a circle. Picture it: me--like the toe-headed, red-cheeked girl from Poltergeist--pushing a stick around in circles. Sometimes chasing a fat cousin. Sometimes not. It must have been absurd. And you'd have every right to laugh. Not because it was stupid but because--unless you've had the experience--you can't possibly imagine the stupid, pointless, simple joy of pushing around a stick-wheel. Especially if it's after your fat cousin.

Over the summer I finally go the WV tattoo I've been wanting for 3 years or so. After that, I decided I wanted full lower sleeves of WV ish but I've had trouble deciding on what it would be. First I thought I might get a black bear fighting a giant cardinal. But that seemed too trite and not personal enough. But tonight...tonight I figured it out. My next tattoo will be on the inside of my left forearm. It'll be a black bear pushing a stick-wheel. And later, when I have the money, I'll get something on the outside of my forearm, probably a cardinal, taking aim at the bear with a slingshot.

More lazy blogging, i.e. look what someone else made.

2007-12-21T09:17:00.000-05:00

Space problems

2007-12-20T08:45:00.000-05:00

Does anyone know how to fix spacing problems on blogger? I have my settings set to convert line breaks but it doesn't always work. That's why in some of my blogs there's no space between paragraphs or there's like 5 spaces between paragraphs. Short of editing the html (which is a hassle) I can't get it to be consistent. Does anyone know if blogger is aware of this problem and if they're working on it?

Best Cat Pictures...So Far

2007-12-20T08:27:00.000-05:00

Could I be a stalker?

2007-12-14T14:06:00.000-05:00

A conversation about someone's stalker occassioned the following exchange between me (Mr T tough) and my friend Sean.

[13:07] Mr T tough: i could totally be a stalker
[13:07] Crinttae: you could not
[13:07] Crinttae: you can barely stand people
[13:07] Mr T tough: why not?
[13:07] Mr T tough: sure i could
[13:07] Crinttae: how are you gonna stalk them?
[13:07] Mr T tough: on the internets
[13:07] Mr T tough: and like, go by where they work or live or something
[13:07] Crinttae: you'd follow them to their car and then be like
[13:07] Crinttae: this sucks i'm gonna go watch buffy
[13:07] Mr T tough: maybe most of my stalking would be from a distance
[13:08] Mr T tough: mostly on blogs and websites and such
[13:08] Mr T tough: basically, what i do now only more so
[13:08] Crinttae: no way
[13:08] Mr T tough: ???
[13:08] Crinttae: 90% of your blogs are about you
[13:08] Mr T tough: i'm stalking myself!
[13:08] Crinttae: well, that i could see
[13:08] Mr T tough: this is a stunning realization
[13:09] Mr T tough: i think i'm super sexy and i can't wait to see myself again
[13:09] Crinttae: finally realize who's been leaving all those notes
[13:09] Mr T tough: hmmm
[13:09] Crinttae: like
[13:09] Crinttae: "laundary, groceries, workout"
[13:09] Crinttae: and keeping creepy notebooks about your activities
[13:10] Crinttae: "ran- 20 minutes, 20 reverse pushups"
[13:10] Mr T tough: you mean the workout notebook?
[13:10] Mr T tough: you think that's weird?
[13:10] Crinttae: exactly
[13:10] Mr T tough: one has to document one's life
[13:10] Crinttae: well it's a sure sign you're a stalker
[13:10] Crinttae: i'd get thrown in jail if i had a notebook of you like that
[13:11] Mr T tough: yes, but don't you think i'm capable of taking my love of me and turning it on other people?
[13:11] Crinttae: maybe?
[13:11] Crinttae: i don't know
[13:11] Crinttae: i just see you getting bored and going to go watch buffy
[13:11] Crinttae: in every case where you might start to follow someone
[13:12] Crinttae: unless it was buffy
[13:12] Crinttae: hm.
[13:12] Crinttae: then i could see it happening
[13:12] Mr T tough: yes but you think i'm always watching buffy
[13:12] Crinttae: so yes you could stalk someone
[13:12] Crinttae: but if and only if that person is buffy
[13:13] Crinttae: i'm saying you're too independent
[13:13] Crinttae: you need to be a creep
[13:13] Crinttae: like me

_________________________________________

So, is it weird that I keep a log of all my workouts?

The men in my life.

2007-12-14T07:52:00.000-05:00

Every night we go through the same routine. I pick Jimmy up and carry him into the bedroom, placing him gingerly on the end of the bed. He looks up at me, very concerned, and waits patiently while I brush my teeth and wash my face. When I finish and get into bed, he sits there for about 5 more minutes and then takes off. Sometimes he reappears in the night; sometimes he never comes back.

I tried to stop taking him to bed with me for a while. I'd just leave him wherever he was in the living room, figuring he'd rather be there anyway since he doesn't stay with me. It didn't work. He'd look at me all sad and confused, wondering why I had changed our routine. Even if it's a routine he doesn't care for, it's still the routine we have and deviating from it upsets him.

Once Jimmy leaves the bedroom, Milo comes in. He's almost as excited about bedtime as he is about showertime. He knows it's the one time of day that he can sit with me and I won't get up to get a drink or go to the bathroom. He has my full attention...at least, he has it until I'm too tired to continue petting him.

He lays beside me where the other pillow would normally be. He purrs and nuzzles me. If I get too lazy to pet him it's not a big deal. He'll rub his head on my hand or my arm or my face. I just have to sit still while he gets his rocks off.

In the morning, Milo wakes up when I wake up and follows me into the bathroom where he sits on the toilet and watches me shower. Most of the time he'll start walking around the edge of the shower making that wonderful little "merowp" sound he makes. I talk to him the whole time and put my hand on the shower curtain where he rubs up against it.

When I get out Jimmy runs into the bathroom, eager to take part in the morning love fest. As I towel off, Milo demands kisses. His kisses don't entail licking. I just pucker my lips and he leans forward to sniff them and then he says "merowp" and rubs up against my wet leg, leaving white hairs in his wake.

Jimmy waits patiently...sort of. He's patient for a bit and then it's that insistent and plaintive meow he does to make me feel bad for him. It works every time. I'll start petting him and he'll start purring and then he runs into the kitchen to make sure I know that he wants breakfast.

When I leave for the day, I tell them to behave themselves and when I come back I find them clamoring at the door for my attention.

Jimmy likes to be held and talked to or sung to. Milo doesn't want picked up but he loves to sit on your chest and tuck his head up under your chin. Jimmy is reflective and needy. Milo is haphazard and playful. Jimmy is smart. Milo isn't. Jimmy wants everything you have to eat. Milo is only interested in ham or tuna. Jimmy plays with a lobster named Fidel and a mouse named Garson. Milo plays by hitting Jimmy in the face when he's trying to sleep.

Ben was recently chatting up a hottie online and she started talking shit on cats. He closed the IM window and signed off. As he figured it, if you don't like cats then I'm not going to like you. And he's right.

All these things right here.

2007-12-13T08:23:00.000-05:00

Assuming that being really funny and being really smart are mutually exclusive characteristics, which would you prefer someone to have?

If you pick funny, the person need not be dumb. Just not terribly engaging intellectually. If you pick smart, the person isn't without a sense of humor. Just incapable of really cracking you up.
____________________________________

Does anyone remember that time Ilona took a car full of people to like Pennsylvania or Maryland or something and then told them that they couldn't go indoors anywhere for at least 24 hours?

That's hard to do. I guess they just played around outside but still...24 hours is a long time when you can't even go into a 7-11.
_______________________________________

I like the way it sounds when someone says, "_______tickles me." Them saying that tickles me. It makes me think of the underside of knees and fitted dresses that flare at the waist and potholders decorated with bumblebees and lemongrass and rootbeer floats. ______________________________________

I had a dream a while back that I was going to see a movie with some people and Lauren and Matt were there. Lauren pushed me down a very steep hill and kept saying that I was so fat I looked pregnant. I didn't really want to go to a movie with her after that but it was a dream that featured me being very committed to my end goal. Stupid dreams.

____________________________________________

FOUND magazine is having a holiday special. You can get all 5 issues of the magazine for $20 plus $5 shipping. It's really a pretty sweet deal, especially since you don't have to track down a store that sells the magazines. So I placed an order. You can also get issues #2 and #3 of Dirty FOUND for $16. As in, $16 for the both of them. That's not bad. But I didn't really have another $20 to spend on reading scraps from other people's lives. (Dirty FOUND #1 is out of print but they're doing a reprint in the near future.)

I know some people get into the PostSecret books but I can't get down with that. They're too contrived. The idea is that people mail in a homemade postcard with a secret on it. It's a fine concept that apparently originated at D.C.'s Artomatic a few years ago. (I went to Artomatic last year and I wasn't that impressed. Some stuff was interesting but a lot of it was crap. Think of it as the vanity press for painters and sculptors.) Anyway, PostSecret is the weaksauce version of FOUND and came out a few years after FOUND placed its foot firmly in the doorway of exploiting other people's lives.

FOUND is predicated on the idea that you're not meant see what you're seeing. These are personal notes and pictures and scraps that are not addressed to you. Their intended audience is very specific and the message is tailored to that audience. Consequently, what you get is a very sincere sliver of someone's personal narrative.

PostSecret, on the other hand, is deliberate. People choose what secret they'll reveal and how they'll visually represent the tone of that secret through their homemade postcard. And while you can argue against it, I think the things in PostSecret are far more likely to be fabricated by the people sending them in. For all these reasons, I don't see PostSecret as an accurate representation of the private or internal life of the human animal.

Really, the difference between these two publications is like the difference between a diary and a blog. (However, this should not discourage you from reading my blog, which is clearly a high-class publication that's fully represenative of my inner monologue.)_______________________________________

My oldest brother works as a mechanical engineer for Poland Spring in Maine. When my family went up there in September for his wedding, some of us toured the plant he works in. It was cool. Sort of like being on an episode of Discovery Channel's How It's Made.

When you go into the plant, you have to wear safety glasses, a hairnet, earplugs, and an apron sort of thing over your shoes. It's a very clean place and they seem to have a firm handle on what they need to do to keep everyone safe.

A few weeks ago and he was telling me about a routine safety inspection that was done at his plant. One of the safety inspectors freaked out when he saw a man that wasn't wearing earplugs. He wrote it down and explained to whoever was in charge that it was a very serious safety concern because the machines are quite loud and could damage the man's hearing. But the thing is, that guy is deaf. Literally. That's why he doesn't care about wearing earplugs.

In retrospect, that story isn't so funny.

Glow in the dark cats

2007-12-13T07:45:00.000-05:00

Hooray for technology. It's given us such wonders as pizza rolls, leet speak, and reality TV. How could things get better? Well, how about a cat except...hold on...wait for it...it glows in the dark? It's like cat+. Woo! South Korea, I totally want to party with you.

Wed Dec 12, 4:00 PM ET

South Korean scientists have cloned cats by manipulating a fluorescent protein gene, a procedure which could help develop treatments for human genetic diseases, officials said Wednesday.

In a side-effect, the cloned cats glow in the dark when exposed to ultraviolet beams.

A team of scientists led by Kong Il-keun, a cloning expert at Gyeongsang National University, produced three cats possessing altered fluorescence protein (RFP) genes, the Ministry of Science and Technology said.

"It marked the first time in the world that cats with RFP genes have been cloned," the ministry said in a statement.

"The ability to produce cloned cats with the manipulated genes is significant as it could be used for developing treatments for genetic diseases and for reproducing model (cloned) animals suffering from the same diseases as humans," it added.

The cats were born in January and February. One was stillborn while two others grew to become adult Turkish Angoras, weighing 3.0 kilogrammes (6.6 pounds) and 3.5 kilogrammes.

"This technology can be applied to clone animals suffering from the same diseases as humans," the leading scientist, Kong, told AFP.

"It will also help develop stemcell treatments," he said, noting that cats have some 250 kinds of genetic diseases that affect humans, too.

The technology can also help clone endangered animals like tigers, leopards and wildcats, Kong said.

South Korea's bio-engineering industry suffered a setback after a much-touted achievement by cloning expert Hwang Woo-Suk turned out to have been faked.

The government banned Hwang from research using human eggs after his claims that he created the first human stem cells through cloning were ruled last year to be bogus.

Hwang is standing trial on charges of fraud and embezzlement.

Thinking too hard

2007-12-12T13:52:00.001-05:00

If I make myself think about something really hard, my brain will latch onto the little nugget at the center of that thing I'm thinking about and it'll convince my body of the complete truth of that thing and then I'll feel as if that thing is happening. Like my own eventual death. If I think very hard about my own death, I can kind of convince myself of my mortality. That's not an easy thing to do. We're flip about our death. We say, "I'll die someday. Everyone dies." But everyone is not us. They're everyone else. Holding onto the idea of your death is difficult. It's slippery and you want to let it go because of how overwhelming it is. When I finally can't think about it anymore, when it feels like my chest is being pulled apart by cold wisps of air with fingerless clutches, I think about mailing netflix or that sound the elliptical machine makes when my cool-down is done or the way that no one ever cleans out the microwave in the employee lounge. These things are concrete and have been given an arbitrary sense of weightyness. And that can be reassuring.

Part of the problem

2007-12-12T08:22:00.001-05:00

I woke up for work an hour later than usual. No big deal but I think it's because my apartment was too warm. Ever since they put in a new thermostat I've been unable to control the heat. I set it at 72 degrees and the fan is set on auto but when I got up it was 80 degrees in my apartment. What the hell? Milo and Jimmy would normally wake me up but the heat had clearly affected them as they were out like two angelic bewhiskered lights.

I went through my normal routine. No rushing around. Things like this have a way of working themselves out and throwing yourself around in a wild frenzy tends to only delay you further. I even took the back roads to work, daring the tempermental hands of time to fuck with me. To borrow a word, I am unfuckwithable.

As I took the ramp from 193 onto Route 1, I was forced to yield to the oncoming traffic. There's no merge area there and there were quite a few cars coming. As I waited for my lane to clear, a big 'ol GMC Yukon came up behind me, slammed on his brakes, and honked loudly. At first, I didn't realize he was honking at me. Why would he be? I was yielding just as the big red and white sign indicated I should. When he honked again I looked in my rearview and saw him gesticulating like he was having a confrontation and that's when I knew that I was the person he was confrontationing with. I rolled down my window, stuck my head out to look at him, and gestured towards the oncoming cars. He gestured back at the oncoming cars and honked again. I looked to make sure that I was right, that there wasn't a merge area and that if I went now I'd get hit. And I was right. I gestured again. He honked again.

Each time something like that happens, I want to talk to the person and explain to them that this is not a problem. A problem is getting abducted by aliens or finding inexplicable lesions on your genitals. Being stuck behind someone that's yielding does not compare with the life altering nature of some situations. But instead of getting out of my car and telling that man to calm down, I flipped him off and laughed as I drove away. I am what's wrong with humanity.

Also, Hulk Hogan is gonna be hosting a remake of American Gladiators on NBC. It almost makes me wish I had cable.

Let's Go: Who wants to be my travel buddy to the Balkans?

2007-12-11T08:26:00.001-05:00

I've spent the past two hours refreshing my memory on European history and geography through wikipedia. It's good for that because the links make it easy to envision relationships between people, places, and things. That's something that's always hard for me. And then I forget everything very fast. But each time I (re)learn something new, I tell myself that this time it'll stick. I'll think about it so hard that I can't imagine ever not knowing it. I keep saying to myself "Belgrade is the capital city of Serbia. Belgrade is the capital city of Serbia." But if you ask me in a week what the capital city of Serbia is, I won't know. Or I won't be terribly confident about my answer.

Well...maybe that's a bad example. Maybe I'll remember the capital city of Serbia because that one's pretty simple. You just remember it by failing to forget. But I'll forget something...or get confused. Are the Baltic states a part of Northern or Eastern Europe? Depends on who you ask really. I'd say Eastern but that's because I tend to think of countries like Lithuania as being more similar culturally to the Czech Republic than to Norway or Sweden. But then again, lots of people consider the Czech Republic to be Central Europe and not Eastern. I'm also pretty sure that I'm not qualified to come down on the side of any particular issue.

It bothers me, all of this not remembering and not knowing. I can't even keep my empires straight. Sure, I have a rough idea of the extent of the Ottoman Empire but don't ask me to list the territories it included.

Last year I decided that I wanted to go to Greece. As in, "I'm going to save money and go to Greece in the near future." Not as in, "Yep. Greece. Sure would like to go. Who wants more booze?"

Unexpected expenses caused my idea for this trip to be set back significantly. Since then, my plan has changed to include other Balkan countries.

Flights to the Balkans tend to take nearly a full day and when you figure that I'd probably only get 2 weeks off from work, it doesn't seem wise to try to see more than a few places in such a short amount of time. And what's the hurry? The Balkans have been there through countless wars and have witnessed the formation and dissolution of a variety of governments and countries. They'll be there for a while longer. Might as well take my time and get to know Bosnia and then have a little trip down to Greece. Or, have a fling with Bosnia and then have a tryst with Serbia on my way to a more committed relationship with Romania.

If you go to the tourism website for Bosnia-Herzegovina there's a whole section on how to avoid landmines while exploring the country. What it says amounts to "don't go anywhere that isn't populated," which kind of sucks because the Bosnian countryside appears to be gorgeous. Then again, how often do you actually go on a trip and venture into unknown territory all by yourself, sans a local guide? So yeah, I guess the Bosnian War didn't totally ruin my potential ability to picnic there.

By the end of 2008 or mid-2009, I could feasibly be enjoying the cooling breeze coming off the Adriatic. Maybe not in a swank hotel. Maybe not fanning myself with heaps of cash. To do that I'd probably have to wait until the end of 2009 or so. But I'd be there and I'd be avoiding unexploded ordinance in a country that's been host to horrific ethnic cleansing and that's now attempting to get itself back on track with toursists by calling itself "The Heart Shaped Land" that's right in "The Heart of SE Europe."

Who wants to go? Who among you is willing to say that you'll start saving money now to plan this trip with me?

You see, I've not traveled much. But traveling is a key component to my ideal life. It need not be lavish or all that frequent. Once a year and on a reasonable budget would be fine with me. But it does need to happen. After all, the benefit of being a person that doesn't have or want children is that you can do whatever you want. Assuming, of course, that you'll actually do something. And I want to. I actually want to do something.

The problem is that I'm also not married or in a serious relationship and all or most of my friends are about as brokeass poor as BJs are good. I suppose I could go alone but if I did that, who would I turn to to say, "Look at how silly other cultures are. They don't even put ketchup on the table"?

So take a minute and consider it. Wouldn't you like to see where Archduke Franz Ferdiand was assassinated? Or at least, wouldn't you rather do that than crush my dreams?

Scotland's New Image

2007-12-07T11:22:00.000-05:00

Nov 28 2007 By Magnus Gardham
A £125,000 campaign to replace Scotland's Best Small Country In The World tag has been unveiled.

And the exciting new catchphrase dreamed up by top advertising brains is..."Welcome to Scotland".

Artwork featuring the message will be displayed at all Scots airports from St Andrew's Day, accompanied by different national and local messages.

The decision to rebrand Scotland's "points of entry" follows a pledge by First Minister Alex Salmond to scrap his predecessor Jack McConnell's slogan "Scotland, the Best Small Country in the World".

Salmond said that was too downbeat and typified the "Scottish cringe".

The new message was devised with help from one of Scotland's top advertising agencies, The Leith Agency.

Extra national slogans include "World Leader in Learning" and "First to Introduce Universal Education" as well as "Home of Golf" and the snappy: "Home of Europe's Fastest Growing Life Sciences Community".

Glasgow's sign will also say "Birthplace of Charles Rennie Mackintosh" and refer to the 2014 Commonwealth Games among other slogans.

Edinburgh's options include "UNESCO First City of Literature" and "Real Financial Strength".
Visitors to Inverness could be greeted with "Home to Mountain Bike World Cup," while passengers at Prestwick will read "Home of Robert Burns".

Aberdeen signs could say "Energy Capital of Europe" and Dundee will use the "City of Discovery" tag.

The new artwork was unveiled at Glasgow airport yesterday by culture minister Linda Fabiani.
She said: "These images will welcome people arriving in our country and Scots coming home, giving everyone a taste and glimpse of the very best of Scotland.

"This is not about developing flashy slogans. This is about showing what a modern, vibrant and successful country Scotland is."

But Labour MSP Jackie Baillie said: "If 'Welcome to Scotland' is the best Alex Salmond's government can come up with, it shows the SNP have had an imagination bypass. It sounds more like a road sign at Berwick than it does a must-do invitation to visit our country."
However, tourism and business leaders backed the change.
VisitScotland chief executive Philip Riddle said the displays would help establish Scotland as a "must-visit, must-return destination".
The Labour leader of Glasgow City Council, Steven Purcell, said: "We are delighted to see key messages about Glasgow, including our Commonwealth Games win, and striking city imagery in the new point of entry materials."
A government spokesman said the £125,000 cost of the displays covered the new artwork, printing and installation.
The cash came from existing budgets as the Best Small Country campaign was due to come to an end.
REBRANDING: WHAT'S IN A NAME CHANGE?
OTHER rebrandings include:
Prestwick airport got the slogan "Pure Dead Briliant" as part of a £3million upgrade last year. But a logo featuring a cartoon drunken Scotsman sparked outrage.
First Minister Alex Salmond renamed the Scottish Executive the Scottish government. It cost £100,000 to change stationery and signs. But Westminster still refer to the "Executive" - the legal name.
The Scottish Office were renamed the Scotland Office after devolution in 1999.
The Scottish Tourist Board became VisitScotland in 2001. It took five years for the change to be made legal.
Mars changed their Marathon bars into Snickers and Opal Fruits to Starburst.

Executive Order 13112

2007-12-07T10:39:00.000-05:00

an excerpt

(a) Each Federal agency whose actions may affect the status of invasive species shall, to the extent practicable and permitted by law,

(1) identify such actions;

(2) subject to the availability of appropriations, and within Administration budgetary limits, use relevant programs and authorities to: (i) prevent the introduction of invasive species; (ii) detect and respond rapidly to and control populations of such species in a cost-effective and environmentally sound manner; (iii) monitor invasive species populations accurately and reliably; (iv) provide for restoration of native species and habitat conditions in ecosystems that have been invaded; (v) conduct research on invasive species and develop technologies to prevent introduction and provide for environmentally sound control of invasive species; and (vi) promote public education on invasive species and the means to address them; and

(3) not authorize, fund, or carry out actions that it believes are likely to cause or promote the introduction or spread of invasive species in the United States or elsewhere unless, pursuant to guidelines that it has prescribed, the agency has determined and made public its determination that the benefits of such actions clearly outweigh the potential harm caused by invasive species; and that all feasible and prudent measures to minimize risk of harm will be taken in conjunction with the actions.

(b) Federal agencies shall pursue the duties set forth in this section in consultation with the Invasive Species Council, consistent with the Invasive Species Management Plan and in cooperation with stakeholders, as appropriate, and, as approved by the Department of State, when Federal agencies are working with international organizations and foreign nations.

_________________________________

Woo!!! Spend you day thinking about that! I will!

Good job.

2007-12-06T11:09:00.001-05:00

Sometimes I'm really proud of my work. Not like helping orphans proud or saving the world proud...that's such a weird kind of pride anyway. I'm talking about, "Damn, that's cool and I did it" pride.

For instance, I was talking to a co-worker today about a letter she's working on that presents a myriad of complex issues spanning 10 years. It involves us owning up to a mistake we made, explaining why the ramifications of that mistake are not our fault, pinpointing the person that is actually at fault, and laying out regulations to a Congressman. Doesn't sound so bad but it's harder than you think. Especially the part where we explain why us making a mistake doesn't equal us being responsible. So the co-worker was having problems writing around this issue and I referred her to a letter I wrote a few weeks ago. In it I did a very similar thing with a slick bit of leger de main. I was all, "Hey! I'm acknowledging this issue. But what's this? Look over here! Something else totally unrelated that takes your mind off that issue." It was genius. Have you ever read Richard Nixon's Checkers speech? Well, it was sort of like that but way less involved.

100 years ago today...

2007-12-06T07:26:00.000-05:00

the greatest mining disaster in America took place in Monongah, WV. If you're from Morgantown you may not be terribly familiar with Monongah. But if you're from Fairmont or any of the surrounding towns (holla at me Barrickville, Rivesville, Idamay, Fairview, et al.) you know where Monongah is. Or, at the least, you've heard the name said but maybe you can't quite remember which of the little downtrodden former mining towns it is. There are too many.

That's how it is for me.

Everything in these towns is covered in coal dust. It might be the stain that the coal left years and years ago when the mines were still active or it might be from the coal trucks that pass through on their way to bigger towns where there's still mining going on. Sometimes--like in Greentown--many of the houses are painted a uniform color to indicate that they were company owned. No one has bothered to repaint. I don't know if it's out of laziness or if it's been left that way as an explanation--"This is what the mining companies did to us." Either way, it's obscene. Most people would pull their dress back down after being raped. Not West Virginians. We leave our dress around our hips and our legs spread. Our faces are alway mixed with pride and regret.

We identify with the thing we most hate so much that it's become a part of who we are. Coal mining is indigenous now. We don't even question it.

We used to ride 4-wheelers up around the fly ash dump and we never thought that it was strange for the water in the creek to be tinted orange. The roads at home aways need repaving from coal trucks passing over them and if you drive to Sugar Lane from Morgantown on a weekday you'll need to leave yourself some extra time cause you're guaranteed to get stuck behind one of those slow, lumbering beasts. Everyone knows a miner. If your dad wasn't a miner then his dad was and you probably have an uncle or two that works in the mines. The dust stays under their fingernails and you'll never see them entirely clean. They told us to stay away from abandoned mines but sometimes we'd still play right outside the mouth of one, pretending that it was our cave. We're used to things like runoff ponds that catch the rainwater after stripmining changes the topography. When they stripmined in Sugar Lane we stocked our runoff pond with bluegill, catfish, bass, and even a few drum. We put in a diving board and spent many summer days in intertubes on the pond. My brother was married at our runoff pond with the stripmined hill blocking the sun.

You just don't think about any of it. It's always been that way.

I knew that mining was big in WV but I had no idea that it was somewhat non-existent in other areas. Over the past two years I've met people that have no miners in their family. Some of them seemed surprised that people still had jobs mining. They say things like, "You mean, down in the earth? In a hole? Digging at rocks and stuff." I say, "Yeah. Some of the technology is different but yeah...down in the earth." And they say, "I didn't know people still did that." Of course they do. My oldest brother's first job out of college was as a mechanical engineer for the mines. It was a terrible job and I wondered if I was supposed to hate him for working for the company or respect him for keeping things running right and making sure the miners were safe. Being a company man in WV is similar to being a...well...I can't think of anything that doesn't rely on the typical overplayed Nazi comparision. Suffice to say, being a company man in WV is like being a person that isn't liked very much.

If you want to know more about the Monongah mining disaster, this site is a good overview:
http://www.boisestate.edu/history/ncasner/hy210/mining.htm.

Go full wad.

2007-12-05T15:25:00.000-05:00

It's funny when you realize that you have no idea what you look like to other people. Depending on what room my mirror is in, how I stand, what I'm wearing, and where the light is in relation to the mirror, I look alternately like a pretty hot, short girl with a thick rump OR like a pretty thick, short girl that looks like she's hot.

I imagine that for other people it's more one way than the other. And maybe it even changes depending on the person and how much they like girls, short girls, rumps, thick rumps, short thick girls, etc. But whoever the person is, I'm sure that I'm cartoonish. I just can't figure out if I'm cartoonish in a "Look at that bubble person gettin' her bubbles everywhere" kind of way or in a "I want that big butted girl to...hell...I don't care what she does. Look at that big butt." kind of a way.

Whatever the answer, it's probably best to assume that it's the coolest or sexiest option and run with it. No one ever found half-way appealing.

I'd be so cute.

2007-12-05T11:45:00.000-05:00

If I was a cat, I'd do the same things that I do as a person only people would love me for it.

Picture me doing all these things except as a cat:

--drinking vodka
--mocking others
--playing with costumes
--fretting over my amazon wishlist
--writing letters to congressional representatives
--complaining that jeans never fit me right
--grabbing my bag and going to the gym
--burying my face in a cute boy's stomach (if you're a friend of mine, this may not make sense to you...if you're a cute boy of mine, you know i do this quite a bit.)
--begging to have my extremities tickled

_______________________________

Sean told me today that the rule for dating someone younger than you is half your age plus seven. I had never heard that. I asked Ben about it and he says it's common knowledge. What the eff? How did I not know that? Is there also a rule about making out with the hotties that your friends introduce you to? Cause Bryn has a stockpile of hotties at home. Can I have one of those or are they hers even if she doesn't use them to their full potential?

Thanks to Jeremy...

2007-12-05T10:06:00.001-05:00

for using the word lebensraum while IMing me. Perhaps I sound a fool for admitting it but before today I hadn't heard the term. Or, if I had, I didn't remember it. But from now on, it's a part of my vocabulary.

In future you'll be playing Risk with me and my dudes in South America will attack your puny armies in Africa and you'll be all, "What the eff?" and I'll be all, "Son, I need some lebensraum!"
Or maybe I'll be hanging out with Hess and he'll be squishing me on the couch while we watch Deadwood and I'll say, "Get out of my face. I have to have lebensraum."

Revelation?

2007-12-05T08:41:00.001-05:00

A few moments ago, I was eating my breakfast (a bowl of Aldi's imitiation Cocoa Wheats--lots of iron and calcium--and an English muffin) and reading a story about how Jessica Alba used to have an eating disorder. She was training to film that stupid TV show she had, Dark Angel, and started starving herself. As I bit into the second half of my muffin I thought, "Yeah, if I wanted to, I could totally have an eating disorder." To prove it, I've decided to fast until noon when I go to lunch with Jessica.

Hidden Camera.

2007-12-05T07:18:00.000-05:00

Some dude. Some bitch. Whatever.

2007-12-04T14:05:00.000-05:00

Saturday I went to see The Golden Compass with a rocket scientist. The most exciting thing about the entire evening was knowing that when it was over I'd be able to say that I went to see The Golden Compass with a rocket scientist.

The movie was bad and the rocket scientist was loud. Not loud like me. Louder. And he seemed like he was still in high school. We met in front of Borders and as he walked towards me he slapped his hand to his head in a d'oh kind of way and muttered something to himself about the metro breaking down. Or something.

But picture it: he's a 25 year old, 6'5" dude with a roundish middle section and thinning black hair hitting his head on the street and muttering frustratedly to himself. To say that it was comical wouldn't be entirely correct. It primarily served to highlight all of the little--and not so little--social differences between us. Nonetheless, he's an amusing character.

Some 21 year old dude (dude or kid? I'm tempted to say kid.) messaged me the other day. He's reasonable enough. And in some ways, he might be impressively reasonable for someone his age. He likes to pepper his conversation with familiar but infrequently used words like ubiquitous and lexicon. Lexicon is a favorite and occurs at least once during every conversation. I'm sympathetic towards this because I also attach myself to words that I think of as being so specific that they name precisely what I mean. Unfortunatley, we both use these words with such abandon that they become pervasive in our speech and tend to lose the quality that we valued them for originally. (I am, of course, assuming a lot about this person's motivations here--namely that they are identical to my own. This is something I do every time I meet someone new. Then I'm annoyed and disappointed when I learn that they're different from me and have desires and motivations all their own. Lame.)

Anyway...why do I want to call this guy a kid? Seriously. He's an adult. He has a job. He lives in an apartment. I imagine that his life requires him to pay bills and buy groceries and take care of countless hassles and cope with the odd moment of joy. This is--as far as I can tell--a fully formed person with opinions, thoughts, desires, faults, preferences, and probably even an inner monologue. He's even older than Sage and I have no problem thinking of Sage as a completely autonomous person with internal states (as much as I think of anyone as being completely autonomous with internal states). But wait, I think I'm characterizing this incorrectly. I don't think of this dude as incomplete or lacking autonomy or failing to somehow be a full person (inasmuch as you can actually think about such things with regard to a stranger). But if someone were to ask me, "Who's that guy you're IMing?" I'd probably say, "Some kid that messaged me the other day."

Had I met this guy through one of my friends in Morgantown, I wouldn't think of him as being younger. He'd just be some dude with whatever attributes he happens to possess. Maybe that's because when you meet someone through friends you're already roughly associated with their attributes and identify them in that way. Conversely, if you meet someone on a social networking site you have nothing with which to associate them but the information contained in their profile: "Hmm, dirigible77 is a 21 year old male that's trying to quit smoking, sometimes drinks, and owns a cat." And until you learn about other, more important attributes that's all you have.

A potentially valuable lesson?

2007-12-04T13:45:00.001-05:00

Click to learn something that may just save your life some day. Suckers.

God double dammit.

2007-12-04T08:24:00.001-05:00

Does everyone do a google search on the people they've met recently? Cause see, I have this whole blog about a date that I went on and my impressions of the dude and evening and so on and so forth. But you know, it's me so all of those things are sort of harsh sounding. But the dude is a nice enough dude. I mean, I'd play a board game with him. So what are the chances that he found my blog and might spot me harshing all over his mellow?

People are douchenozzles.

2007-11-29T10:17:00.000-05:00

Seriously.

This is some guys netflix review of Heroes season 1:

I've found that most people seem to love this show. I saw a few people that did not like this review, claiming that the people weren't "believable" or "relatable." I think that on some level, that's true...because they have abilities and we do not. So yeah, we can't relate in that sense. But everytime I watch this, I feel I relate in some way. Whether it's a feeling of being lost or alone, we've all felt that way sometime (new job or school, moving to a new location, etc). I think this is a great series, and has so many "inside marks" that people miss. The "helix symbol" reappearing all the time, as well as the eclipse showing up a few times. My favorite is the cockroach in the cell with Sylar. While this show is great as far as entertainment and story value, it's also really good for the detail that put into each scene. I'd definitely recommend it for anyone that needs a new favorite. :)

Mmm hmm. Inside marks? Also, "inside marks"? What the fuck? First, they're not subtle or inside if they're obvious and flagrant. Second, what's with the quotes? Are you using them correctly because if you are then that might negate my first point? So if you mean, "I love these so called 'inside marks' that are not so much inside as obvious and flagrant" then I may owe you an apology. But I'm pretty sure that you're not using them correctly because you also said "helix symbol."

But beyond that, did you consider that maybe people found the characters unrelatable not because they have super powers but because many of them--after half the season--stop working actual jobs but still manage to find large sums of money to travel the country? I mean, I'm gonna give people the benefit of the doubt and assume that when they watch a show about superheroes they're not gonna be like, "Ahh man! These fucking people have super powers. I don't have super powers. That's totally unrelatable!"

No. What people are annoyed about is that the show touts itself as ordinary people with extraordinary abilities but people are not oridnary--even when you disregard their powers. They live in very attractive spaces (even Isaac's studio is very New York artist chic), have money from seemingly no source (except for the obvious exceptions of Nikki/Jessica and Nathan Petrelli), and are attractive as all get out. We know that Peter shunned his family's money to put himself through school and become a nurse. But now that he's quit nursing are we to believe that he's relying once again on the family fortune? No. It's too inconsistent for the character. The Peter we know wouldn't fall back on his family's money. So where does he get money to eat, pay his rent, or travel to Texas and back? Clearly, there's no source. Maybe he has savings. But let's get real. He doesn't make THAT much money. And he's living in a really nice apartment in NY with no roommates.

I digress. Now I'm done.

DVDs

2007-11-27T09:31:00.000-05:00

Sunday evening I was walking back from buying a soda in the laundry room and I heard a small voice somewhere behind me. I turned around and saw a woman walking in the opposite direction with her two young daughters. The youngest girl--maybe 4 years old--kept using a singsong voice to repeat the words hung over. It was weird and awesome.

Amazon has been having some ridiculous DVD sales. Carnivale is now going for $20 a season as opposed to its former $50-$60 a season. You can get all 3 seasons of Deadwood for about $165. I, Claudius and Band of Brothers are both around $35. (Christ, I wish I had some money.) And yesterday I saw Buffy for $95. Unfortunately for anyone that's interested, the Buffy sale was apparently one day only.

The shipping for some things is considerably slower. They said it could take 2-5 weeks for Carnivale to ship but what the hell do I care? I ordered both seasons and figured it'd be a gift to me from my mom.

I called my mom and told her that my Christmas gift from her was ordered and she could just send me a check to pay for it. That's how we do things. My mom says to pick something out that's around $50 and she'll send me the money. Sometimes she wants me to bring it home so that she can wrap it and I can have the lackluster experience of opening it. This year that won't happen. Since the shipping takes so long, I told her I was having it sent to my apartment. That way, if it arrives after Christmas I won't have to have her ship it up to me or go to WV to get it. And if it arrives before Christmas, then I'll tell her it didn't so I can open it and watch them again.

If you haven't seen Carnivale, you should. It was a seriously good show that had an unfortunately slowish narrative pacing. This led to people getting bored quickly and not hanging around for the major payoff that was season 2.

Daniel Knauf, the show's creator, had originally written the show as a movie but then rewrote it as a series that would play out in 3 books, each book spanning 2 seasons. So 6 seasons total. Season 1 was nominated for 7 emmys and won 5, while season 2 was nominated form 8 emmys. Apparently, HBO had no plans to cancel the show but once they reviewed the ratings to season 2 they pulled the plug anyway.

In addition to impressive costuming and gorgeous cinematography, the mythology of the show is engaging to the point of frustration. The wikipedia page helps a lot. You just have to remember a few key things. There are two houses (light and dark), the mantle of the house is passed patrilineally to the first born son (called an avatar), a new avatar is born into each house in each generation, and the female children with the blood of the house are called vectori and they cannot carry the mantle. The oldest generational avatar of a house is called the prophet and he has the blue blood or vitae divina. The next in line is the ascendant prince. If the ascendent prince kills the prophet, then he gets the blue blood and a boon (the previous prophet's full measure of power). If the prophet dies in some other way, the ascendent prince will get the blue blood and be raised to prophet but not the boon.

The only exception to the patrilineal rule is the Usher and the Omega. Both the Usher and the Omega can be of either sex. Generally speaking, the Usher and the Omega are pretty confusing dudes and babes...maybe totally evil...maybe not.

Also, each house is mixed. An avatar that is evil may have a son (the next generational avatar) that is good. So if you're an ascendent prince, the dude you have to kill to get your boon and the blue blood may be someone unrelated to you...then again, it might be your dad. Just depends on the luck of the draw.

So yeah...totally nuts. Totally awesome. And totally left unfinished.

Tasty success.

2007-11-26T09:21:00.000-05:00

I made the best vegan pot pie last night. Not because I'm vegan but because I wanted to see if I could make a more traditional meal into a vegan meal.

2 pre-made pie crusts (9 inches)
4-5 small potatoes diced
1 stem broccoli cut
1 medium yellow onion cut into half moons
2 big carrots chopped
frozen peas
8ish white mushrooms sliced
2-3 cloves garlic
2 tbsp. corn starch
2 vegetable boullion cubes
1-2 tsp. olive oil
2 tbsp. soy sauce

Boil potatoes and carrots together for about 5 minutes then add broccoli. Cook until they begin to get tender. Remove from heat and drain. Set aside.

Add olive oil, onions, and garlic in a skillet and cook until slightly tender. Then add some frozen peas and mushrooms and cook until onions are transluscent and mushrooms are done. Set aside.

Dissolve boullion cubes in 2 1/2 cups water then put in sauce pan. Add 2 tbsp. soy sauce and bring to a boil. In the meantime, add 2 tbsp. corn starch to about 4 tbsp. water. Once broth comes to a boil reduce heat to low and add corn starch mixture, stirring constantly until thickened. Remove from heat.

Combine all vegetables with gravy and stir together. Set aside.

Place 9 inch pie crust in the bottom of a round casserole dish. Dish should be small enough that the crust reaches the top of the walls of the dish. Fill with vegetable and gravy mixture. Cover with other 9 inch pie crust and trim edges. Cut a few slits in top crust.

Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes to an hour until crust is browned and filling is bubbly.

Is that SIM Starbuck?

2007-11-26T09:06:00.000-05:00

What the crap is going on with Katee Sackhoff's face in this BSG promo shot? She looks like a SIM.

And from the same batch of promo shots comes this exercise in complete babe hotness. How did they get one photo so wrong and the other so right?

Seasame Street in NY Times

2007-11-20T15:41:00.000-05:00

November 18, 2007
The Medium
Sweeping the Clouds Away
By VIRGINIA HEFFERNAN

Sunny days! The earliest episodes of “Sesame Street” are available on digital video! Break out some Keebler products, fire up the DVD player and prepare for the exquisite pleasure-pain of top-shelf nostalgia.

Just don’t bring the children. According to an earnest warning on Volumes 1 and 2, “Sesame Street: Old School” is adults-only: “These early ‘Sesame Street’ episodes are intended for grown-ups, and may not suit the needs of today’s preschool child.”

Say what? At a recent all-ages home screening, a hush fell over the room. “What did they do to us?” asked one Gen-X mother of two, finally. The show rolled, and the sweet trauma came flooding back. What they did to us was hard-core. Man, was that scene rough. The masonry on the dingy brownstone at 123 Sesame Street, where the closeted Ernie and Bert shared a dismal basement apartment, was deteriorating. Cookie Monster was on a fast track to diabetes. Oscar’s depression was untreated. Prozacky Elmo didn’t exist.

Nothing in the children’s entertainment of today, candy-colored animation hopped up on computer tricks, can prepare young or old for this frightening glimpse of simpler times. Back then — as on the very first episode, which aired on PBS Nov. 10, 1969 — a pretty, lonely girl like Sally might find herself befriended by an older male stranger who held her hand and took her home. Granted, Gordon just wanted Sally to meet his wife and have some milk and cookies, but . . . well, he could have wanted anything. As it was, he fed her milk and cookies. The milk looks dangerously whole.

Live-action cows also charge the 1969 screen — cows eating common grass, not grain improved with hormones. Cows are milked by plain old farmers, who use their unsanitary hands and fill one bucket at a time. Elsewhere, two brothers risk concussion while whaling on each other with allergenic feather pillows. Overweight layabouts, lacking touch-screen iPods and headphones, jockey for airtime with their deafening transistor radios. And one of those radios plays a late-’60s news report — something about a “senior American official” and “two billion in credit over the next five years” — that conjures a bleak economic climate, with war debt and stagflation in the offing.

The old “Sesame Street” is not for the faint of heart, and certainly not for softies born since 1998, when the chipper “Elmo’s World” started. Anyone who considers bull markets normal, extracurricular activities sacrosanct and New York a tidy, governable place — well, the original “Sesame Street” might hurt your feelings.

I asked Carol-Lynn Parente, the executive producer of “Sesame Street,” how exactly the first episodes were unsuitable for toddlers in 2007. She told me about Alistair Cookie and the parody “Monsterpiece Theater.” Alistair Cookie, played by Cookie Monster, used to appear with a pipe, which he later gobbled. According to Parente, “That modeled the wrong behavior” — smoking, eating pipes — “so we reshot those scenes without the pipe, and then we dropped the parody altogether.”

Which brought Parente to a feature of “Sesame Street” that had not been reconstructed: the chronically mood-disordered Oscar the Grouch. On the first episode, Oscar seems irredeemably miserable — hypersensitive, sarcastic, misanthropic. (Bert, too, is described as grouchy; none of the characters, in fact, is especially sunshiney except maybe Ernie, who also seems slow.) “We might not be able to create a character like Oscar now,” she said.

Snuffleupagus is visible only to Big Bird; since 1985, all the characters can see him, as Big Bird’s old protestations that he was not hallucinating came to seem a little creepy, not to mention somewhat strained. As for Cookie Monster, he can be seen in the old-school episodes in his former inglorious incarnation: a blue, googly-eyed cookievore with a signature gobble (“om nom nom nom”). Originally designed by Jim Henson for use in commercials for General Foods International and Frito-Lay, Cookie Monster was never a righteous figure. His controversial conversion to a more diverse diet wouldn’t come until 2005, and in the early seasons he comes across a Child’s First Addict.

The biggest surprise of the early episodes is the rural — agrarian, even — sequences. Episode 1 spends a stoned time warp in the company of backlighted cows, while they mill around and chew cud. This pastoral scene rolls to an industrial voiceover explaining dairy farms, and the sleepy chords of Joe Raposo’s aimless masterpiece, “Hey Cow, I See You Now.” Chewing the grass so green/Making the milk/Waiting for milking time/Waiting for giving time/Mmmmm.

Oh, what’s that? Right, the trance of early “Sesame Street” and its country-time sequences. In spite of the show’s devotion to its “target child,” the “4-year-old inner-city black youngster” (as The New York Times explained in 1979), the first episodes join kids cavorting in amber waves of grain — black children, mostly, who must be pressed into service as the face of America’s farms uniquely on “Sesame Street.”

In East Harlem and Bedford-Stuyvesant in 1978, 95 percent of households with kids ages 2 to 5 watched “Sesame Street.” The figure was even higher in Washington. Nationwide, though, the number wasn’t much lower, and was largely determined by the whims of the PBS affiliates: 80 percent in houses with young children. The so-called inner city became anywhere that “Sesame Street” played, because the Children’s Television Workshop declared the inner city not a grim sociological reality but a full-color fantasy — an eccentric scene, framed by a box and far removed from real farmland and city streets alike.

The concept of the “inner city” — or “slums,” as The Times bluntly put it in its first review of “Sesame Street” — was therefore transformed into a kind of Xanadu on the show: a bright, no-clouds, clear-air place where people bopped around with monsters and didn’t worry too much about money, cleanliness or projecting false cheer. The Upper West Side, hardly a burned-out ghetto, was said to be the model.

People on “Sesame Street” had limited possibilities and fixed identities, and (the best part) you weren’t expected to change much. The harshness of existence was a given, and no one was proposing that numbers and letters would lead you “out” of your inner city to Elysian suburbs. Instead, “Sesame Street” suggested that learning might merely make our days more bearable, more interesting, funnier. It encouraged us, above all, to be nice to our neighbors and to cultivate the safer pleasures that take the edge off — taking baths, eating cookies, reading. Don’t tell the kids.

I've said it before...

2007-11-20T06:58:00.000-05:00

and I'll say it again...it's totally fucking crazy to me that people steal babies. I mean, they just take them.

Why would you ever take a baby?

I understand the appeal of taking a car or a mansion or an identity but a baby? How could that possibly benefit you? And what the hell are you going to do with it? I might be wrong here but from what I can tell, people that want to kill a kid or rape a kid usually kidnap an actual kid...like, one that can talk and that has a subjet position that can be damaged by the perpetrator's actions. People that kidnap babies just want a baby...not as a means to an end but an end in itself. Why?

I'm especially impressed by the people--mostly women--that cut a nearly full term fetus out of its mother's womb and then leave the woman to die. Clearly, these baby thieves want a fresh baby. Not those day old babies they keep laying around hospitals.

Major Purchase Satisfaction

2007-11-15T09:30:00.000-05:00

In October I ordered a couch.

Not a fancy couch. Not a terribly expensive couch. Rather, a simple couch that looks like it will hold up well in an apartment with 2 cats. A couch that's large enough for 2 reasonably sized human beings to lay down on together. A couch that felt like a good place to nap when watching some Buffy. A couch that screamed, "I'm totally within your price range!"

When I bought the couch, I also picked out the upholstery. Some dark green/gray color called seaweed. It'll look good against the brick colored walls in my living room, won't show dirt, and--most importantly--the fabric was soft but tough. Durable. This is the couch of a sensible woman that also enjoys affordable comfort. This is the couch that I'll lounge upon in the coming years. This is the couch that they're delivering Tuesday.

It couldn't last.

2007-11-15T08:28:00.000-05:00

I had 2 1/2 weeks of having perfectly clear skin. Whenever this happens I get really excited and think that I've finally hit the age where I'll never breakout again.

And I don't mean those sissy little pimples you assholes get. I mean nodules. Those terrible hard lumps under your skin that are sore and make your entire face hurt. The soreness usually lasts a week or two and the hard lump itself sometimes takes months to totally go away. They're gross and painful and no one should have to have them.

I don't get them terribly often and lately I've been lucky. In the past 6 months or so I 've managed to catch them early and coax them into receeding before they become a hassle. But when one does take hold, I can pretty much assume that the next two weeks or a month will involve a serious crisis of confidence and I'll wish I could scrub it off with a cheese grater. Gnarly.

But today I learned about a type of acne called acne conglobata and knowing about it makes me feel better about my life. Acne conglobata is when multiple nodules or cysts form and connect to each other. They destroy underlying cells and basically create tunnels in your skin, thereby destorying the integrity of the tissue. Google image search it and you'll be freaked the fuck out.

And now...I have to go feel sorry for myself and my painful face.

"Check" it out.

2007-11-14T11:03:00.001-05:00

Look to your right and you'll see a list of links. For the love of God, check out the "Blog" of "unnecessary" quotation marks.

Why didn't I come up with that?

Let's get a Maine Coon! They chirp!

2007-11-09T11:26:00.000-05:00

True Life

2007-11-09T08:52:00.000-05:00

The other day in the gym I watched an episode of MTV's True Life. The topic was stutterers. They followed a young girl in Pittsburgh, a beauty queen in New York, and a speech pathologist graduate student in Morgantown. Yes. Morgantown. As in, WV.

I was pretty amped because:

A) It's Morgantown. I'm happy when Morgantown gets a little attention (but please don't let it entice too many people to move there) and I figured I'd get to see some of my favorite places from home on TV. That seems like a pretty sweet deal when you're homesick.

B) The dude was a speech pathology student and I used to do work study for a professor there, Dr. Ken St. Louis. (Man, working for Ken St. Louis is a story in and of itself.)

Anyway, it was clear that the audience was supposed to feel really bad for the guy in Morgantown because his stutter prevented him from getting a job. He'd call up to ask if someone was hiring but the person on the other end would hang up on him. They showed his bare refrigerator and how he made a sandwich and then realized that the bread was moldy and had to throw it out. They showed him talking to his landlord about why his rent was a month late. Aww. I mean, it's so sad tha...

Huh?

What?

Wait.

Where does this guy live again?

Oh snap, he's living in Chateau Royale! (If you're not from Morgantown, let me assure you that that's really the name of this apartment complex.)

What kind of fucking idiot lives in Chateau Royale and then complains that they can't pay their rent? Oh, that's right. This moron is from out of state. He's so stupid that he thinks he's getting a good deal living there.

That pretty much did it for me. I felt no sympathy for this dude who was paying at least twice as much as any person should pay for living in WV. Idiot.

Plus, he kept being picky about the jobs he was being offered. Boston Beanery in Evansdale offered him a job in the kitchen but he wouldn't take it. He said he couldn't pay his rent on that kind of money.

Hello! McFly! Is anyone home? You're already not paying your rent, asshole. Jeebus.

But no, this nozzle wanted to be a bartender or a server. Something where he could make tips. Woe is him that his stutter makes it hard for him to provide good service and makes potential customers feel uncomfortable. Seriously, I want my bartenders and servers blending into the background and not sticking out in any way that could ruin or interrupt my evening and employers know that.

Is it unfortunate that he has trouble finding the work he wants for such a silly reason? Maybe.

But it sure as hell isn't sad or unusual. I mean, I want to be a fucking model but it turns out that I'm only 5'2" tall and thick like a rhino. Some people. I swear.

I'm not hittin' that.

2007-11-09T07:49:00.000-05:00

Does anyone remember what Mickey Rourke looked like when he was still hot?

Ahh, yes. There he is.

But behold, the ravages of age, smoking, and too many punches to the face.

Terrifying.

Dear Mickey Rourke:

There's no way I'd hit it now. Thanks anway.

Damn the man.

2007-11-08T07:36:00.000-05:00

I bet these kids are all lathered up.

WVa parents target Pat Conroy books
By JOHN RABY, Associated Press WriterWed Nov 7, 12:39 PM ET

Graphic depictions of violence, suicide and sexual assault in two Pat Conroy books are at the heart of a First Amendment debate, pitting offended parents against high school students who object to being told what they can't read.

Even Conroy has interjected himself into the debate. In an e-mail to a student, Conroy slams those who would ban his works as "idiots."

A student group is vowing to sue the Kanawha County Board of Education if the removal of "Beach Music" and "The Prince of Tides" from two Nitro High School classes is made permanent and expanded countywide.

In a move that appeased neither side, the board decided Monday to explore using advisory labels on books that show content for violence, language, sexual content or adult situations.

The book challenge is one of hundreds reported to the American Library Association every year on requests to have materials removed from schools or libraries, including the popular Harry Potter series, which some Christians believe promotes witchcraft.

Steve Shamblin, who teaches honors and Advanced Placement courses at Nitro High, said the graphic depictions in Conroy's books are found in newspapers every day. He also noted that several literary groups have deemed the books as age-appropriate for high school upperclassmen.

"As long as we stay in a 1950s utopian mind-set, we're not going to get past the 20th century," he said.

Parents Ken and Leona Tyree found certain scenes in "The Prince of Tides" "obscene and offensive." Leona Tyree said she was unable to finish the book. Their son has since left Shamblin's Advanced Placement literature class.

Another parent, Karen Frazier, complained about violence in "Beach Music," and told school board members last month she wants guidelines for books used in public schools.

"If a teacher was on a computer and sending this filth to underage students, they'd probably be arrested," Frazier said at last month's meeting.

Neither Frazier nor the Tyrees have listed phone numbers.

Makenzie Hatfield, who teamed with fellow students to form a coalition against censorship, said her group is prepared to go to court if the school board sides with the parents.

"This is a college class," said Hatfield, a senior at Kanawha County's George Washington High. "We chose to take this class. The school didn't tell us to. We chose."

Conroy did not respond to requests for comment from The Associated Press, but defended his books in an e-mail to Hatfield.

Because the two books were temporarily banned "every kid in that county will read them, every single one of them. Because book banners are invariably idiots," Conroy wrote in the letter published Oct. 24 in The Charleston Gazette. "They don't know how the world works — but writers and English teachers do."

Conroy referred to the books as "two of my darlings, which I would place before the altar of God and say, 'Lord, this is how I found the world you made.'"

He said his late father fought in three wars and turned violent on his wife and seven children; his youngest brother committed suicide; a female relative was raped; eight classmates at the Citadel were killed in Vietnam, and his best friend died last summer in a car accident.

"The world of literature has everything in it, and it refuses to leave anything out," he wrote. "I've been in ten thousand cities and have introduced myself to a hundred thousand strangers in my exuberant reading career, all because I listened to my fabulous English teachers and soaked up every single thing those magnificent men and women had to give."

Dude, it's a small price to pay for freedom. Am I right? Hey...you guys. Am I right?

2007-11-07T11:45:00.000-05:00

Man angry with son-in-law fingers him as terrorist to FBI
Fri Nov 2, 8:47 AM ET

A man in Sweden who was angry with his daughter's husband has been charged with libel for telling the FBI that the son-in-law had links to al-Qaeda, Swedish media reported on Friday.
The man, who admitted sending the email, said he did not think the US authorities would stupid enough to believe him.

The 40-year-old son-in-law and his wife were in the process of divorcing when the husband had to travel to the United States for business.

The wife didn't want him to travel since she was sick and wanted him to help care for their children, regional daily Sydsvenska Dagbladet said without disclosing the couple's names.

When the husband refused to stay home, his father-in-law wrote an email to the FBI saying the son-in-law had links to al-Qaeda in Sweden and that he was travelling to the US to meet his contacts.

He provided information on the flight number and date of arrival in the US.

The son-in-law was arrested upon landing in Florida. He was placed in handcuffs, interrogated and placed in a cell for 11 hours before being put on a flight back to Europe, the paper said.

The FBI contacted Swedish intelligence agency Saepo, which discovered that the email tipping off the FBI had been sent from the father-in-law's computer.

The father-in-law has been charged with aggravated libel.

He has admitted sending the email, but said he didn't think "the authorities were so stupid that they would believe anything. But apparently they are."

He said he "couldn't help the US authorities' paranoid reaction".

_________________________________________________

There's also a super super good article from Congressional Quarterly about the FBI tracking sales of food items (falafel) in an attempt to locate terrorists in California. The article is too long to paste but you can find it here if you're interested: http://cqpolitics.com/wmspage.cfm?parm1=5&docID=hsnews-000002620892. Woo! USA!

I want to party with this girl.

2007-11-07T11:29:00.001-05:00

You guys have probably already heard about this girl but I still think it's so awesome. She has 8 limbs from a parasitic twin that her body only partially absored in utero. And now the fucking doctors have gone and cut them off. So lame. Plus, in the first article I read about her they explained that her entire village thought she was a goddess. People really fucked up a good thing for this girl.

Astrobiology and my coffee.

2007-11-07T06:54:00.000-05:00

There was a story in the news today about a new planet being discovered in the Cancer constellation. [http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20071106/ap_on_sc/planetary_system] The new planet is orbiting a star called 55 Cancri. Like the other planets in the system, scientists believe that the planet could have liquid water and mild temperatures. But overall the planet appears to be more like Saturn than Earth and so scientists are ruling out the possibility of life there...though--according to the article--they're holding out the hope of finding an Earth-like planet in the system.

I understand why we focus our efforts on finding life that is like our own and requires the same things we require. It's the only thing we have experience with and so it's the only thing we understand. If we were to extend our search to places that could sustain life very much unlike our own, we would have no idea how to best direct our resources. To avoid this, we've decided to draw conclusions about life on Earth and translate that into the search for other life. This makes the task far more manageable. All life is carbon based, all life needs water, and life can only develop on sun-like stars. These conclusions are not arbitrary. We didn't pluck them from the sky. They didn't grow out of Zeus's head wearing full armor. These are solid conclusions that hold true when applied to our own experience of life.

But still, it's a fallacy of composition. Life on Earth requires carbon, water, and a sun-like star. So life in the universe requires carbon, water, and a sun-like star. You can't transfer a conclusion from a part to a whole. But lots of things that are fallacious are actually true. I'm not really going anywhere with this. At all. I just think it's fun to think about astrobiology and how it's such a completely made up field of study.

There was a dead bug in my coffee this morning. It floated to the top and I scooped it out and drank my coffee. Is that bad?

It scares me.

2007-11-06T20:56:00.000-05:00

I am not a very photogenic person. And that's fine. I'm aware of the angles that I look good from...close up with my head turned in profile. From far away my head is mushroomy, my cheeks are about to gyranosaur off my face, and I have no neck. It's grotesque to say the least. Every picture that is not from my ideal angle makes me pause and wonder "how the hell do I ever get laid?"

The problem with not being a photogenic person is that, at some point, you realize that your entire life is lived from multiple perspectives and angles. Nothing gets frozen in time. At any given moment I look as bad as I think I do and as good as I think I do. It just depends on where you're sitting. But for you, the viewer, it's a cohesive whole. When I walk far away you don't think I look significantly different. For me, far away self is a totally different person than up close self. I have no way of knowing myself from all these angles and--here's another key part--no way of knowing myself in motion. I can't see myself move. I see what it looks like from up here, looking down...but that's it. So yes, I have no way to know if I'm reasonably attractive when I'm all put together. And that scares me.

What if I've been wrong? What if I actually look like all of my bad photos? Because, the truth is, the evidence is mounting in favor of that. There are more bad photos than good and the people saying, "Oh, don't worry. You don't really look like that," are starting to sound more and more disingenuous.

Joss

2007-11-06T07:46:00.000-05:00

So, I knew that Joss Whedon's Wonder Woman project didn't go anywhere but apparently he's now working on a movie called Goners. And apparently, everyone but me has known about Goners for a while now. The idea is vague so I can't say that I'm amped yet. The interwebs are telling me it's like Buffy but scary. Hmm.

The actually exciting news is that Joss is returning to television with a series on Fox called Dollhouse. It'll star Eliza Dushku as Echo. The premise is that there's a small group of people--threeish--that can be imprinted with custom personalities and traits to take on different assignments. Upon completion they can be wiped clean. You can read a synopsis and an interview with Joss here: http://www.tvweek.com/blogs/james-hibberd/2007/10/joss_whedon_returns_to_fox_wit.php. He also talks about the writers' strike and the Ripper series (the story of Giles, pre-Buffy) that never seems to manifest.

As for Dollhouse, I don't like Eliza Dushku. She was terrible as Faith. Well...hang on. Faith was a terrible character--or caricature--to begin with. And Eliza Dushku just annoyed the crap out of me. Except that there's that one episode in season 1 of Angel where she's feeling all guilty about being an annoying bitch and turns herself into the police. Not for being annoying. For killing people. But to me, her worst crime is being annoying.

Plus, Fox sucks. Sure, they have good shows but they always cancel them or, like Firefly, air them out of order so people get confused and the show never finds its fanbase.

Still, I have faith in Joss and in all things Joss does. Don't you?

blarg blarg blarg

2007-11-02T22:46:00.000-04:00

Wednesday, October 31st

Lucero show at the Black Cat was much better than expected. The last time I saw them, they were determined to play songs off their latest album and, while it's good, it's not their best work. This time around, they played a lot of stuff from Tennessee and That Much Further West and I jumped and wiggled like a total idiot. It was great.

Sean was nice enough to drive and even managed to not hate me too much while I got confused and flustered and annoyed by the way streets, streetlights, and traffic behave in DC. We parked at least a mile away from the Black Cat and started walking there. About 3/4 of the way, we decided that it would be wise to go all the way back to get the car and park closer.

I had 2 sodas and a flask in my bag and one of the sodas went rogue and leaked. It was sticky. But it's a small price to pay for covert drunkenness.

Thursday, November 1st

Kicked Sean off the couch so I could make bacon and watch Buffy while he slept. Piddled around the house, had some hot chocolate, and talked to the cats a lot. Put a pot roast in the crock pot and turned it on.

Sean got up and there was more piddling around the house. I asked Sean to say "Oi!" It was funny.

Around 3:00pm we each put on a scarf and drove to College Park to walk around Northeast Branch Trail up to Lake Artemisa. (What a nice name that is...Artemisa.) Northeast Branch Trail has a bunch of "fitness stations" where you can stop and do some kind of silly exercise. It's basically jungle gym equipment without a full-on jungle gym. There are signs that explain how you're meant to use the equipment. Each one shows a featureless, sexless person in a wheelchair. It feels so forced that I half think I'm looking at the cover of my 6th grade health book. The one with a group of people on the front...young and old, light and dark, attractive and not, limbs intact and limbs out-of-tact...all of them sharing a common interest in the lumbering beast of the human body, yearning to know its hows and whys...touching arm to arm or hand to hand to show that they're not so different that they can't be friends. That's what these signs are like. We laughed and then I laughed more when Sean used the equipment in a way that I'm sure is not considered safe by the instructor in the wheelchair.

We collected leaves and tried to find the most perfect ones we could. I dropped mine in the creek and watched it float for a while. I could have dropped it in another spot where the trail goes by the creek but I held on to it, waiting to get to that specific spot. Not because it meant something to me but because there was less trash in the water and it seemed wrong somehow to drop my perfect leaf beside old soda bottles and grocery store bags.

After the walk, we went to Safeway and got the stuff to make pumpkin pie. Back at my place we ate pot roast and--eventually--pumpkin pie. Then I fell asleep while Sean watched Beyond Thunderdome.

Friday, November 2nd

Watched Nightmare Before Christmas with Sean. Sean left and I cleaned the apartment. Watched something else...I can't recall what. Talked to Bryn. Went to bed early.

Saturday, November 3rd

Did absolutely nothing for most of the day. Watched Buffy...napped...read some David Sedaris.

Went to Brewer's Art around 9pm. It took flipping forever to find parking and I probably wasn't supposed to park where I finally ending up parking. It was near a fire hydrant on Maryland. They could have gotten to the hydrant but I was pretty close. Hmm.

Drank a Woodchuck and a Natty Boh. Chatted. Smelled the garlic and rosemary fries. People say they're really good. I'll have to try them sometime.

Chatted more and had a pretty fun evening. I labeled it a success and drove home.

Sunday, November 4th

Went to Target and bought a new coat. It wasn't my intention to buy a new coat but there was one there and it was perfection on a hanger. It makes me look like a girl in a coat only impressivley so. Big, voluminious hood that a few heads could fit inside of. It's nice and makes me look forward to snow.

Note to Last Night Self

2007-10-31T10:29:00.000-04:00

You're a jerk. Why'd you go and get all drunk like that? Cause ouch. That made this morning's yogurt not that awesome.

HAHA

2007-10-30T13:50:00.001-04:00

from XKCD.com

It's clickable if you want to enlarge it.

Dread Pirate Roberts

2007-10-30T10:26:00.000-04:00

Our staff had an important meeting today with K. We've never met this man but suffice to say that he's several levels above the rest of us in terms of money, stature, and influence. I was expecting an older man in a gray suit with cold hands.

But K's hand was warm when I shook it and he looked to be about 30. And cute. Blonde hair that he had slicked back for no real reason. It made him look like his head was wearing armor. Thinning armor that, under different circumstances, would be the here-then-gone color of straw in the sun. His suit was blue pinstriped and his wedding ring was silver. His features were narrow, slender...like Cary Elwes if he had gone into agriculture. (And I'm a total sucker for Cary Elwes.) His background is in molecular biology with a focus on agrarian molecular biology (biotech stuff) and his graduate degree is in public policy. Whatever. Who cares. The point is, he looks like a version of Cary Elwes and he has an advanced degree in things I don't understand. Swoon!

I was asked to lead K to our WAR room. I chatted. Asked how long he had been with the department. Asked if he liked it. I tried to make my face beautiful. I tried to look at him in such a way that he'd say, "I don't love my wife. I want to put on the Dread Pirate Roberts outfit and makeout with you, right now!" You know, the usual stuff.

When the meeting started, we were missing Candy Girl and the boss. No big surprise. One supervisor had a rough morning and joined us late. No big deal. But then her phone went off and the ringer must have been at its maximum volume. She excused herself to take the call.

I was asking K about his involvement with our work when the other supervisor began dispersing bagels. She was shaking them out of bags, onto a tray and the bags were making those terrible loud bag noises. It was all very unnecessary. K was clearly annoyed. He was trying to talk. I was trying to listen. The bag rustling and the bagel movements went on long enough that I become uncomfortable and then extra uncomfortable.

Finally, we all sat down and began chatting as a group. In the middle of the conversation, someone phoned in. Another writer. He was working at home and needed to phone in for the meeting. We brought him up to speed and proceeded. Then the supervisor that had taken a phone call returned. We brought her up to speed and proceeded. Then someone asked me where Candy Girl was. I said I didn't know but that she always comes in late. They asked me to see if she was at her desk. She wasn't. We proceeded. Then the boss came in. We brought her up to speed and proceeded. Then Candy Girl came in. We brought her up to speed and proceeded. Then the phone call supervisor got another phone call and left. Then she came back. We brought her up to speed and proceeded. Then there were phone problems with the guy that called in so we hung up. He called back. So we brought him up to speed and then proceeded to tell him that the meeting was about over.

And in the midst of it all, someone asked a stupid question, Candy Girl ate 2 bagels like they were going out of style, and the boss seemed less than interested. I feel certain that we made a bad impression. We always do. As a staff, we're very unorganized.

I wonder if I could have done something so that we made a better impression. Maybe I should have told him that he looks like Cary Elwes. Maybe I should have said, "Agrarian molecular biology? HOT!" But I didn't. When the official meeting commenced, I sat there and tried to be small and distance myself from my coworkers. But I bet it didn't work.

I wish I could.

2007-10-29T08:50:00.000-04:00

My prose style is not conducive to a great many things. I tend to invert sentence order and I use a lot of dashes and parenthetical phrases. I often have to re-read and edit several times before I achieve an economy of phrasing. It sounds good in my head, and it's exactly what I mean, but I sacrifice clarity for precision. I like to elaborate and elucidate but that just creates a convoluted sentence structure that defeates my intention of making things clear.

I wonder why they hired me for this job. When they asked for writing samples they said it could be anything of a certain length. So I submitted an article I wrote on the future of Shakespeare studies (as predicted by the current course of the field) and a paper on pre-vatic feminist utopian novels. And from that, they knew that I could write. Sure. I can. And when it comes to argument, I'm your girl. Argument benefits from complex sentences. Complex sentences allow you to draw out what you mean and what you don't. They give you room to breathe and expand and-- at the same time--they're confining because the longer your sentence goes, the more precise its meaning.

And I can also do simple. See. Looky there. Look at these short simple sentences. And fragments. I understand the benefit of using fragments in prose. I'm the artist that knows how to do beautiful portraits but can also choose to paint people as stick figures. Or something like that. You get the idea.

The point is, I have a few modes. And I can adapt reasonably well. So long as the writing project has a clear aim--winning an argument, defending mistakes the government made, or convincing you that you should makeout with me, etc.--I can do it.

But I cannot write the way I talk and I cannot find a voice that allows me to indulge in more creative projects. How can I be missing that?

Aaron has been telling me for about 7 years now that I need to write down some of the stories I've told him. (Especially the one about the cussing shed. He loves that story.) But I can't. I mean, I can. I probably have. But it doesn't sound the same.

When you read David Sedaris, you can hear David Sedaris. He has a cadence and an intonation that is implied by the text. He manages to write what he actually sounds like and he makes it sound like that to you too. He's remarkably present in everything he writes. The words are thick with him and you feel like you could scoop them up and sculpt them into a spoken statue of him.

I can't do that. Isn't that a ripoff?

I also forget things. Like, lots of things. While I'm a smart person, I can never remember the proper noun associated with a particular theory or idea or when so and so came up with the whatchamacallit. And when I can rememeber things, I have a hard time placing them in their proper context. For instance, let's say that Science Event A happened in 1746 and within a few months of that, Cultural Event A took place. I will forever think of them as two distinct things. It becomes difficult for me to see them as part of the same period or movement or whatever. Even if they are clearly related.

It's unfortunate. And it's annoying. Particularly when you get around someone like Charlie or Aaron who happen to always remember the dates for everything. I have a hard time remembering which countries are the Baltic countries and which are part of the Balkans. I have to constantly remind myself of stuff like that. (I remember the Baltic countries because I work with a woman that's from Estonia and the Baltic countries are Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania.) But these guys just know. It's just the sort of thing that sticks in their head.

Maybe it's not such a big deal because people wouldn't expect me to know that much about science or history or geography. At least, they wouldn't expect me to remember more than the average person. After all, my degrees are in philosophy and English. But I also can't remember words sometimes.

For example, I was recently having trouble recalling a synonym for pugnacious. It was a word that I liked the sound of and I had repeated it over and over in my head to make it stick. But it just wouldn't come to me. I had to search the thesaurus to remember that it was bellicose.

And I sometimes have trouble keeping the existentialists from bleeding together. (But then, doesn't everyone?) Is that excusable? Since my degree in philosophy is just an undergrad degree, can I be excused from remembering everything and knowing its proper name? Probably not. A while back--when I was still teaching and getting all the free textbooks I wanted--I ordered a dictionary of philosophy. It's handy. When people start referring to various schools of thought you can look it up to remind yourself. These things often sound incredibly complex, but they're not. You look it up and find out that it's all pretty common and you were already very familiar with it...it's just that you never refer to it or think of it by its proper noun. And that's frustrating too. If it's such a simple thing, then I should be able to recall it's stupid proper noun.

I recently made a deal with myself (a sort of pre-New Year's resolution) that I have to read X amount of smart stuff per week or month or whatever. (X has yet to be determined...I'm winging it until New Year's.) When you get out of school you think you're going to finally have all this time to indulge in all the stuff you've been wanting to read. I figured I'd finally read Peter Sloterdijk's Critique of Cynical Reason. (It's supposed to be highly readable and pretty amusing.) But of course, what happens is that you get out of school and just enjoy not having to do anything. You don't become the sexy autodidact you envisioned becoming. Instead, you begin the slow and torturous process of forgetting. And I'm trying to buy myself some time. Trying to prevent losing my smarts. But if I succeed, will it matter? Even when I'm smart, I forget things. So if I manage to learn something new, won't I just forget again?

Meet Oscar

2007-10-26T14:54:00.001-04:00

Oscar has been cracking Ben and I up for a few days now. Please, pay special attention to the bowed front legs, the blank and surprised look reminiscent of Milo, and the barrel chest that I associate with Ben's enormous cat, Fang. Oh man...I love this cat and would like to invite its owner to give him to me.

That's me.

2007-10-26T10:00:00.000-04:00

These should be clickable but they're still all grainy from scanning them. But still...look at me! All small. And I have no clear memory of many of these events! Life is crazy.

I still make this face when I'm sleepy.

Woo! That outfit is totally awesome. And--much as I did when I was 2--I still stand on drawers to see the countertop.

YES! Thank you to my dad for always doing seriously awesome shit to me. In addition to making me wear disguises for amusing pictures, he used to cut a hole in an empty diaper box and plop me inside. Then he'd put a motorcycle helmet on my head and push me around in the box. So effing good.

That's Clowny. Not a terribly inventive name, I know. I used to love dancing with Clowny because he was just about my size. Then I saw Poltergeist and my relationship with Clowny was forever damaged. In case you haven't seen it, I looked A LOT like the girl from Poltergeist. And in that movie a clown that was under the bed comes to life and attacks her and her brother. So yeah, I told my mom that Clowny was probably possessed and she was going to have to lock him up somewhere where he couldn't get me. He's still in may parents' attic.

Jay at the top, Fred to the left, and me to the right. A million hipsters are crying right now because they wish they had those shirts.

I tried doing cheerleading in 3rd grade. It sucked. Some girl's crazy mom yelled at me for forgetting the right socks. I threw off the whole squad because we were supposed to be wearing our red socks, not our white socks. I got upset [as a child, I hated nothing more than being yelled at...it terrified me] and told my mom that I was in trouble. My mom put that other crazy mom in her place and reminded her that we were all 8 or 9 years old and it wasn't the end of the world. That's when I decided that my mom ruled and that I would never be a cheerleader again.

A nerd in wolf's clothing.

2007-10-26T08:02:00.001-04:00

I wonder if I'd think it was hot if a guy I was dating got dressed up as Harry Potter and waited in line for the book to be released. The answer is...I'm not sure. Maybe.

I find lots of super nerdy things hot.

"Oh, you want to tell me a little story about what's wrong with Newtonian physics. Cool. I'll just sit here thinking about how I want to lay my face on your stomach in a way that would be creepy were I not a reasonably cute girl."

"We're going to a comic book store where you can explain the minutiae of the Marvel universe. Sweet, will you tell me about how no one ever made out with you in high school and then take me somewhere so we can makeout?"

I've been thinking about this proclivity since I first became aware of the hotness of smart dudes--which was pretty much simultaneous with me becoming aware of hotness in general. What I've decided is that it isn't so much the nerdness that I like as it is the smartness and the thoroughness. However, when smartness combines with thoroughness, the result is often a nerd.
If I could find a smart and thorough guy that also happened to be well shaped, handsome, and socially suave, I'd be all about it. Case in point: I dated Aaron for almost 4 years. And whatever else Aaron is, he's a smart, hot, thorough dude that knows too goddamn much about comic books, Magic: The Gathering, and RPGs. At any time he might roll a 20 sided die to tell you what your "about to makeout with him" points are. He's a nerd in wolf's clothing. And that's a rare thing.

[Is makeout a compound word or two separate words or a hyphenate?]

In addition to the smart and thorough thing, there's also the special knowledge thing. I like people that know something I don't know. That doesn't necessarily mean that they need to teach me what they know. They just need to talk about it when I'm around. In this way, I get to see them as being apart from me and apart from others. They have a unique knowledge from a unique perspective. Other people may have similar knowledge but--because it's something that I don't know a lot about--I can convince myself that the guy I'm interested in has a more complete and special understanding of X.

And that helps with autonomy too. Oooh...autonomy. Apart from smartness, autonomy is the hottest characteristic. Now, you're probably thinking that all people are autonomous. And to some extent, you might be right. But what I'm interested in is hot, smart dudes whose autonomy seems to be a palpable force around them. Guys that force me to think about how they were alive before I ever knew them.

Most of the time, the story of a person begins when I enter the narrative. I get some exposition on what came before, but overall, it doesn't seem terribly relevant or interesting. But some people have this ability to seem as if they're always interesting. They did interesting things before they met you and--for once--you actually give a fuck about that. They likely do interesting things when you're not around. They don't need you there to exercise their will or to have fun. It's frustrating and annoying and so incredibly sexy.

It's like this, when I'm driving in my car and look behind me in the rearview mirror, I can often feel a real kinship with my fellow drivers. There we are, on the road together. Me and them. Simpatico. When I stop looking in the rearview, they don't exist [or at least, not in any relevant sense]. They're not back there being endearing or cool or smart or anything. There's no "them" for them to have attributes. There's the idea of "cars behind me" but that's all. No more simpatico. Just automata.

And that's how it is with most people. It sounds harsh but you have to keep in mind that the people that are closest to me are largely exempt from this rule. After all, the reason I'm close with them and continue to be interested in their company is that they've managed to convince me that they're not just a car behind me. They're a person with internal states and desires driving one particular car behind me. And it's always back there whether or not I look to see it.
This decreases in proportion to how far away from me you live. If you're only 30 miles away, then I can reasonably envision you being an autonomous individual and using that autonomy in ways that make me envious of all the time you're not spending with me. If you live 200 or more miles away, I pretty much think of you as sitting in a waiting room or blank space until I call you or see you. [Sorry Bryn and Hess and everyone else.]

But back to hot dudes with powerful autonomy...the point is, those kinds of hot guys are like my friends with respect to their ability to make me be interested in their lives both before and after me...only more so. Where my friends are my friends, this is a hot guy. And he's got a will of his own. And maybe he'll direct it at me. Better yet, maybe he can talk about that sort of thing. Not like narrating it...but maybe he's a guy that's good at philosophy and understands the importance of argument. And he better be because why the hell else am I hanging out with him?
I didn't mean for this to get so long. I meant to just pose the Harry Potter question and see what you guys thought. But clearly, I didn't.

Also, I read James Gleick's biography of Isaac Newton in undergrad. It was pretty good and Newton was a crazy dude so I recommend it.

How did this become about you?

2007-10-25T08:48:00.000-04:00

I don't know when it happened but at some point Fred, my brother, learned about reincarnation. Right around that time, he also learned that he was born 6 days after Elvis died. Fred did the math and figured that 6 days was the right amount of time for a soul to pick the new body it wanted to live in. (Fred's idea--though childish--has some interesting ramifications regarding the status of souls for those that are in utero.)

Elvis had looked at all the tiny babies inside their snuggly little wombs to find the one he most desired.

Babies with the Down's had to go. My friend Adraine used to say that people with Down's Syndrome are the closest we could ever come to meeting a real angel. They're beautiful in a strikingly placid and sweet way and you're not likely to ever meet a person with Down's that isn't kind in every way in which it's possible to be kind. A lot of Down's babies are born with an imperforate anus. Sometimes it joins the recutm, vagina, and colon all into one channel, sometimes there are abnormal passageways between the rectum and the bladder and the urethra or vagina, and sometimes there's just no anus present at all. They do surgery so that the baby can excrete waste. Adriane said that an imperforate anus was evidence of the angelic nature of Down's. No angel would ever defecate. It's sad. Witness what happens when man confronts the angelic. We cut a hole in it. We give it a way to be more like us, to excrete what it's consumed. Maybe these angel babies would be better off if we left them without the ability to rid themselves of waste. They would certainly die but they'd still be angels. But enough with angel baby digressions.

Think of what Elvis did as the fetal version of America's Next Top Model meets American Idol. Many contestants had to be cut. This one was too short, that one had funny hair, some were bound to be ugly, some would be unable to play the guitar, and more than a few lacked the right kind of hips for the trademark swagger. My brother had the hips. And the ass. Actually, he has a bubble butt (a weird looking trait on a dude). But Elvis didn't realize this at the time since Fred was still just a baby, living on the nutrients his mother passed to him and thriving in a sort of existence limbo.

You can see where I'm going, right?

Elvis chose Fred's to be the body that he would inhabit. My brother, the county cop with a bubble butt and a penchant for something he calls "cheesy green beans" [honestly, they're more like canned green beans in a yellow bath that tastes nothing like cheese and a lot like powdery], is the reincarnation of The King of Rock 'n' Roll.

To alert our family and friends, Fred asked my grandfather to make him a medallion necklace emblazoned with the moniker "Elvis II." He told us over and over again that he could feel the Elvis-ness inside of him and when he turned 18 he would change his name to forever be "Elvis II." The world would release a collective gasp and fans would fall to their knees, grateful that their King--their messiah--had returned...much as Weekly World News had prophesied.

It didn't last. That's the shame of it all. Fred somehow just forgot that he was Elvis II, that his soul had been reborn and that he was destined to make teenage girls swoon. He's never really had much follow through. I wonder if Elvis was the same way?

Later, Fred wanted to be Evel Knievel. We had a barbed wire fence around part of our yard that separated it from Aunt Babe's field. Fred figured that more impressive than jumping the fence would be racing towards it on his bicycle and then--right before hitting the barbed wire--laying the bike down on the ground and doing a controlled slide under the lowest strand of wire. He'd pop out on the other side and immediately be able to get the bike back up and pedal away. It's barbed wire limbo except for even bigger idiots. To this day, Fred swears he almost made it. And he's sort of right. I mean, once he put the bike on the ground it went under the fence and came out the other side. It's just that he didn't come out on the other side with it. The barbed wire caught him on the left side of his chest...right below his clavicle. He bled a lot and it left a nasty scar but when it was over with he just kept saying, "Did you guys see me? I almost did it!"

Years later, when he was old enough to have his own dirtbike, Fred tried to jump our pond. It's not a small pond by any means. But the hopes of a 13 or 14 year old boy are enormous and cannot be defeated by logic or sense or the distance across a pond.

It was September and it was pretty cold already. My dad was at the pond fishing and then, seemingly out of nowhere, he heard my brother's bike approaching really quickly. Before he knew it, Fred was cresting the small but steep hill leading up to the pond and taking to the air. He was in the air for all of 3 seconds before gravity did its duty and landed him in 4 feet of pond water. Fred came up with his teeth chattering imploring my dad, "Dad, we have to get it out! Dad, we have to do something to get my bike out. Dad!" And they did. But that was the end of Fred Knievel.

I really don't think Elvis or Evel would approve of that.

This still makes me mad.

2007-10-24T21:16:00.000-04:00

When we were in third grade, my friend Seth's mom got him that mad scientist kit for Christmas. It was just a small skeleton dude that you cover in some gelatin goo and then you stick him in this tower of stuff that dissolves the gelatin from him. So you get to watch him sort of melt and return to his pre-goo skeleton self.

But Seth's mom would never let us play with it. She was worried that it'd make a mess. And as an authority on messes, I can tell you with confidence that it would have. But if you don't want messes made, then you shouldn't have kids. And if you do have kids and you don't want messes made, then you shouldn't get them the mad scientist kit. And if you have a kid and you get him the mad scientist kit, then--for fuck's sake-- let him and his best buddy play with the damn thing.

Seth and I also used to play Star Trek. He had one of those beds that has several drawers down below...to keep your jammies in, I suppose. We'd take the drawers out and crawl in the hole that remained. We had just enough room for the two of us to lie on our backs with our legs close to our chests. Just enough room to pretend that we were in the cockpit of the Enterprise. Okay...the Enterprise didn't have a cockpit. But we didn't have an entire starship so we had to improvise. We often stayed in that little space for hours. Imaginations are awesome.

A pretty good Savage Love letter

2007-10-24T08:46:00.000-04:00

This was in the October 3rd issue of Savage Love and sums up my feelings about a lot of sexual relationships...not just the poly ones. It makes me think of Kirsten (some of you will know who I'm talking about). Kirsten was alwasy busy being sexy. And she was successful. I mean, she was pretty damn hot. But according to the dudes, not actually interested in having sex. So yes, people invest a lot of time in being perceived as sexually interesting but not much time in actually being sexual or interesting or both at once.

[And let me note that I realize that I've left myself open to someone I used to sleep with writing a comment that's all "You don't know what you're talking about. You were rubbish in bed." But...you know...they won't. Right? I mean, I was a dynamo. A real champion...right?]

I am a bisexual female in a polyamorous relationship with a bisexual male. We are each other’s primary. We are friends with a lesbian couple. The older member, to whom I am attracted, lets the younger member, to whom I am not attracted, have other partners. The older member is not interested in outside contacts herself. The younger member is definitely interested in me, but I spend my social time with this couple thinking about banging the older member.

I am very conflicted about how to proceed. I also have a hunch that the older member is attracted to me but doesn’t have the nerve to make a move. I am open to the possibility of a three-way. What is my best course of action here?
—Pretty Older Ladies, Yessir!

You probably like to think of yourself as a brave sexual adventurer, POLY, seeing as you’re all bi and poly and shit. And there you are socializing with intergenerational lesbian couples—man, you are living life on the edge! Pushing the antelope! Creating dynamic new relationship structures! You are bi poly woman—hear you rawr!

Sorry, POLY, but I’ve fried oysters with more spine. You write that the older member of the lesbian couple doesn’t have the “nerve to make a move.” Where’s your nerve? Attracted to the older member? Tell her. Not into the younger member? Tell her. Open to the possibility of a three-way with both members? Tell ’em. The last thing the world needs is another all-talk-no-action polyamorous braggart. You’re doing poly wrong, POLY, when you spend more time diagramming your sexual relationships than you do having sexual relationships.—Dan

Ok Cupid Stories

2007-10-23T11:01:00.000-04:00

Some 44 year old man in Jacksonville, Florida that has long hair and wears a lot of leather sent me a message saying that he's going as a LOL cat for halloween because of me. Of course, he said, he won't be as cute as me. He said he thought it'd be pretty good to be as cute as me though because then you could walk around knowing that total strangers wanted to mush you. MUSH...as a euphemism...for sex! So effing good. This dude is one of my all time favorite dudes in the Jacksonville, FL area.

______________________________________

Some 25 year old guy in MD sent me a message that just read "I can has cheezburger?"

I sent him back an inane response.

He messaged back, "Do you know how canned that response sounds?"

I messaged back:
"Actually, I do. But I didn't think it mattered since it was going to a dude that claims he'll 'go to extremes to have fun' but still knows 'how to enjoy a nice quiet night under the stars.' You get that from Maxim?

And let's be frank, your's was not the most provocative conversation starter."

Seriously..."a nice quiet night under the stars" and he's accusing me of being canned? Lame.

_________________________________________________

Got a message from a dude that lives about 30 miles away. He was all, "Too bad you don't live closer." And I was all, "Yeah, like you, I only date people that live around the corner." What. Ever. Why would you message someone to say that?

A few things.

2007-10-23T09:30:00.000-04:00

The light outside was orange this morning and the leaves on my sidewalk were like haphazard carpet.

A firefighter in Illinois performed mouth-to-mouth on a kitten that wasn't breathing after being caught in a house fire. The kitten lived and jumped in the man's lap and started purring. It was on NPR and Yahoo! News today.

I ordered a David Sedaris book, 2 Dwight Yoakam albums, and a Ryan Adams album. Mostly because fall gets the better of me and all I can think about is honky tonk sad bastard music and apple cider and reading good books under a red tartan blanket and scarves and cute boys with nice smiles. I already have a red tartan blanket, some apple cider, and a scarf but trust me, I would have ordered a cute boy if I could.

We have someone doing a detail on our staff for the next two months. I don't mind answering some of her questions because I remember being new myself but a lot of the problem is that she isn't a writer. She came to my cube today to ask me to sort of pre-edit something before she took it to the editor. I looked at one sentence that made absolutely no sense and asked, "What does that mean?" She said, "It's accurate." And I said, "Yeah, but you're not answering my question. What does it mean?" And she said, "I don't know." I explained to her that if she didn't know what it meant then the recepient wouldn't know what it meant either.

The paragraph ended with something that seemed to have no relation to the rest of the paragraph. I asked what the connection was between the two ideas and she said "Well, I just threw that in. But it's accurate." I didn't know how to explain to a grown woman that you write for a purpose and you can't just throw unrelated stuff in because it's factually true. It was like being a teacher again only this time I was robbed of the power of sarcasm.

Rewind

2007-10-22T08:44:00.000-04:00

I've been feeling sort of scrubbed and hopeful lately. Maybe because it's fall and there's all that color and all those smells. Maybe because I had a really good, really long weekend. Free time and scarf wearing weather always makes me feel calm and sweet and more engaged.

Sean and I went to Markoff's Haunted Forest in Dickerson Thursday night. We listened to Ryan Adams in the car. Sean argued that pretty much all of his albums sound the same and I disagreed. (Sure, there's always some sad bastard songs, some country songs, and some more rock oriented songs...but I can't shake the feeling that Easy Tiger is dramatically different from Cold Roses or Love is Hell.) We drank hot tea on the way there and I thought about the sounds leaves make...on the tree and then off the tree and--eventually--under my feet.

We stood around commenting on the various people partaking in various events and being scared in various ways. We kissed and speculated about the potential for both or either of us to become truly scared.

When our number was called, I made Sean lead the way and, according to him, shoved him towards anything that jumped out at us. We each clutched the other's arm or waist and moved like a lumbering set of poorly conjoined twins.

There were several men with chainsaws, a giant robot horse (the most terrifying element of the entire evening), a dude that I felt sure was gonna trap us in the tikihut of doom and yell "faggot" at us until we cried, and numerous fire hazards. Overall, a successful event.

Later that night I fell asleep but couldn't remember falling asleep. When I woke up, life was remarkably pleasant and I was pleased.

Spent Friday getting an oil change, reading dino comics, running to the grocery store, making pepperoni rolls, and re-watching Season 3 of Buffy. And somewhere in there I found the time to pet some cats and nap with them.

Ben came down Saturday to help me make food for the party. My vegan recipe for spinach artichoke dip turned out to be crummy and we wondered if it might have been because the soymilk was too sweet. Pretty disapponting.

The party itself was pretty much awesome. Lauren was super nice and made me a hulahoop and several people brought me good vodka. Always a great gift. Matt got the hiccups and Ben convinced him to do that thing where you lean over and put your head between your legs and grunt. It didn't cure his hiccups but it was funny for the rest of us. Sean and Chad sat on the couch and whisper-mumbled conspiratorially...sometimes exchanging knowing looks. (It was charming to me that they seem to have their own brand of insideness--something that I lack with my own siblings.) Jimmy curled up on Rob's lap and stayed there for at least a half an hour. Jamie passed out while watching an episode of Buffy that Ben and I insisted on watching. And there's enough Yuengling left to satisfy any Yuengling needs I'll have for the next month or more.

Sunday was meandering. Laundry, Buffy, cats. Talked to Sean for a while about imagined scenarios. Would he be my friend if I was the size of Thumbalina? Would I be his friend if he was that size? I said I would, provided that I was allowed to carry him around in my shirt pocket. I'd even get him a pet but only if he was responsible for feeding it and watering it and such. He said he'd want a caterpillar. I said he could have an inchworm.

Would he be my friend if my entire body was covered in coarse spider hairs? He said yeah. But he'd probably make fun of me. But what if I could spit poison? Would he let his friends make fun of me if I spit poison? He thought it was a pretty moot point once the poison spitting entered the conversation. I guess he's right. You don't need anyone to stand up for you when you're capable of spitting poison.

How about if he was undead? I asked which kind of undead...vampire or zombie. He said both. I asked, "Like a vampire zombie?" He said no...like in the first instance he's a vampire and in the second he's a zombie. I said I'd probably kill him if he was a zombie. After all, all the things that I enjoy about him would no longer be present and instead he'd just be a foul smelling jerk that wanted to kill me. He seemed to think it was rude of me to kill him. But you know, I can't be expected to pledge my friendship to the reanimated corpse of a former buddy. But if he was a vampire, that could be hot. I'd ask him to turn me into one. He'd say that he would and then just drain me of blood. Jerk. There was a pun in there too but it isn't worth repeating.

Spent the rest of the day waching Hot Fuzz (kinda crappy) and The Last King of Scotland (pretty good).

How did the primatives do it?

2007-10-17T16:16:00.001-04:00

Unshelled Peanuts: A Fucking Hassle to Eat

Since: For Fucking Ever

I got shells all over my cubicle.

But think how easy this would be if I had tiny machines at the end of my fingers whose job it was to deshell peanuts.

The Universe Smiled on Me (AKA...I Smiled All Over a Girl's Face Once)

2007-10-17T14:58:00.000-04:00

Today's dino comic revealed that T-Rex's birthday is this Friday, October 19th. THAT'S MY BIRTHDAY!!! I totally share a birthday with T-Rex. So good.

Because I was feeling so happy, I sent an email to Ryan North and thanked him for letting me share a birthday with T-Rex. You know, cause it made me feel good. And he replied!

He said:

"It's my birthday too! I'm a lazy writer like that. Happy upcoming birthday, Mandi!"
- Ryan

So totally awesome. That means that we're only like 300 steps away from me and Ryan North being best buds. That and the distance between here and Canada. The only thing standing between me and an infinite friendship with the funniest webcomic alive is the sincere creepiness of my own desire. I'm always hoisted on my own petard.

I know you can't see this well enough to read it, but if you go to qwantz.com it's today's comic and if you check it out later than today then you can find it in the archives for October 17, 2007.

Pay to Work

2007-10-17T13:33:00.000-04:00

The government doesn't like to pay for parties. Consequently, we have to pay to attend any kind of holiday event we have and we have to plan it ourselves. I just got the invitation to this year's Christmas party.

A. It's on a Saturday night
B. It cost between $30 and $35 (plus drinks...there's a cash bar)
C. I work with these people. Hanging out with them leads to talking about work and that's just like work except I'm paying to do it...and on a Saturday.

Clearly, anything is better than paying to attend a company Christmas party. Sitting at home in my PJs petting cats and watching Buffy is better. Actually, sitting at home in itchy PJs with a busted TV and the torture of not being able to watch Buffy is better.

No. I won't be attending your stupid bash, you dumb Oldies. Let all the Oldies go and have a good time doing old people stuff. I plan on staying home and being Youngie with or without Buffy.

One time, I got someone a barrel of monkeys and tied sweet notes about the recipient to the foot of each monkey. It was endearing.

2007-10-17T08:46:00.001-04:00

I've received flowers a few times in my life and--while it's nice--I mostly just wish that the sender had spent their money on something I could enjoy longer. A DVD, a book, or even a good dinner. My friend Alicia used to tell me that the gesture of flowers doesn't say "I love you" or "I really care about you" so much as it says "I'm willing to throw away $50 on you." And that's pretty relevant, right?

Still, I'd prefer a card with $47.50 in it ($50 minus the cost of the card).

I don't like trite gestures of this vague idea called "romance." It's embarrassing for everyone involved. I feel as if the other person expects me to radiate pleasure or compose a lengthy panegyric re: their ability to make all my dreams come true. It's all very uncomfortable.

Give me an old fashioned gesture of sentiment or affection any day. They imply that a kind of thorough care was taken. Someone thought about you when they weren't required to do so and in that thinking they composed this gesture that they knew would bring you happiness.

The sweetest and most under-appreciated thing that a boyfriend has ever done for me was when Jay brought me some sushi and served it to me inside of a bowler hat. Doesn't sound that great until you realize how appealing those aesthetics are when placed together.

Aaron did several endearing things during our relationship. Despite his rampant womanizing, he had a firm grasp on how to make me happy and evoke seniment, nostalgia, and love. If Aaron manages to never do another charming thing in his life, I'll still smile knowing that my lips are tattooed on his left shoulder.

LOL Cat

2007-10-16T09:26:00.000-04:00

Even if you hate LOL cats, you sort of have to admit that it's a good costume idea. Now, pair a LOL cat with a sharp tie and what you clearly have is a cat that needs a job.

Okay...the ears are a little lame. I wanted just some regular black cat ears but it turns out that the whole movement to be a sexy cat for halloween has made this damn near impossible. Sure, I could have gotten black ears but they were faux leather. Or they had sparkly things coming out of them. Lame and double lame. I settled on these.

Aren't the odds in my favor?

2007-10-15T08:39:00.000-04:00

A dentist that fondled his patients' breasts is claiming that it was part of a medically necessary chest massage. The patients disagree.

A homeless man was set on fire and subsequently died of his injuries.

A young boy in PA killed his best friend and his best friend's parents.

A woman accused of faking a pregnancy and then cutting a fetus from a friend's womb (killing the friend) to claim the child as her own had sex with her step-father in 1984. The mother told an AP reporter all about it.

A guy that drove drunk and killed 3 college students fled the country and has been working as a security guard in a lingere store in Ireland for the past 6 years. He was recently brought back to the U.S. to face trial. The father of one of the girls killed is relieved now.

I don't know anyone that has fondled a patient, set a homeless person on fire, killed a friend or a friend's parents, cut a baby from a woman's womb, or killed someone in a car accident and fled the country.

Why not?

I know some crazy people. Many of them legitimately crazy as opposed to fashionably crazy. This should improve the odds of me being close to a catastrophe, a calamity, a disaster, a debacle, a travesty, a mishap, a cataclysm, a run of bad luck, or a clutch. Maybe even the apocalypse?

But it isn't. Or at least, not in any readily perceivable fashion.

I do know a guy that killed his drug dealer and then put the body in a closet and tried to eliminate the stench by pouring bleach on it. The rot and bleach leaked through to the apartment of the neighbors downstairs. The neighbors asked if he had a leaky faucet. So the guy took the body and tried to dispose of it in the river. He asked Aaron if he could use his car to do so.

(an approximation of that conversation as it was recounted to me)

The guy: Hey, Aaron. Is that your car?
A: No. It's my parents.
G: Do you think I could borrow it? I need to move a body.
A: (laughs a little) Uhhh...no. You can't do that with this car.
G: Dang. Okay. Thanks anyway, man.

The night he killed the guy he showed up at a friend's party that I was at. But he showed up late. (Lesson learned: killing your drug dealer will make you miss the beginning of a party.) When he got there everyone was all, "Hey dude, where you been all night?" And he was all, "I just killed a dude." And we were all, "HAHA. You're so crazy."

He did that all over the place. He told everyone he knew. But no one believed him. Who would? It was close to Halloween. That made it seem more like a prank.

While it's kind of cool that I vaguely know this dude (not a close friend, just someone I saw at parties), I also feel like it lacks the sort of glamour that I'm looking for in a tragic event. I'm not hurt or awed or stunned or even really involved. It's a ripoff.

The universe probably imagines that it's fulfilled its duty to secondarily involve me in a tragedy but I'd have to disagree. This is tertiary at best. How do I demand that my desire to witness atrocity be more thoroughly met? Who do I appeal to? Please, send me their address.

You guys...

2007-10-12T19:30:00.001-04:00

I say "for serious" a lot...like, for realsies.

Oh, for serious.

2007-10-12T14:52:00.000-04:00

Ben sent me this...not because it's amusing on its own merits but because we realized that this is literally how we talk. No joking. Such is our way. Reading it made me love myself more and I didn't even think that was possible.

The Wisdom of Children
by Simon Rich March 26, 2007

I. A Conversation at the Grownup Table, as Imagined at the Kids’ Table

MOM: Pass the wine, please. I want to become crazy.
DAD: O.K.
GRANDMOTHER: Did you see the politics? It made me angry.
DAD: Me, too. When it was over, I had sex.
UNCLE: I’m having sex right now.
DAD: We all are.
MOM: Let’s talk about which kid I like the best.
DAD: (laughing) You know, but you won’t tell.
MOM: If they ask me again, I might tell.
FRIEND FROM WORK: Hey, guess what! My voice is pretty loud!
DAD: (laughing) There are actual monsters in the world, but when my kids ask I pretend like there aren’t.
MOM: I’m angry! I’m angry all of a sudden!
DAD: I’m angry, too! We’re angry at each other!
MOM: Now everything is fine.
DAD: We just saw the PG-13 movie. It was so good.
MOM: There was a big sex.
FRIEND FROM WORK: I am the loudest! I am the loudest!
(Everybody laughs.)
MOM: I had a lot of wine, and now I’m crazy!
GRANDFATHER: Hey, do you guys know what God looks like?
ALL: Yes.
GRANDFATHER: Don’t tell the kids.

_________________________________________________________________

And this one is just damn funny.

Hey, Look
by Simon Rich July 23, 2007

W hat I imagined the people around me were saying when I was . . .
Eleven:
“Oh, man, I can’t believe that kid Simon missed that ground ball! How pathetic!”
“Wait. He’s staring at his baseball glove with a confused expression on his face. Maybe there’s something wrong with his glove and that’s why he messed up.”
“Yeah, that’s probably what happened.”

————

Twelve:
“Did that kid sitting behind us on the bus just get an erection?”
“I don’t know. For a while, I thought that was the case, but now that he’s holding a book on his lap it’s impossible to tell.”
“I guess we’ll never know what the situation was.”

————

Thirteen:
“Hey, look, that thirteen-year-old is walking around with his mom!”
“Where?”
“There—in front of the supermarket!”
“Oh, my God! That kid is way too old to be hanging out with his mom. Even though I’ve never met him, I can tell he’s a complete loser.”
“Wait a minute. He’s scowling at her and rolling his eyes.”
“Oh, yeah . . . and I think I just heard him curse at her, for no reason.”
“I guess he’s cool after all.”

————

Fourteen:
“Why does that kid have a black ‘X’ on the back of his right hand?”
“I bet it’s because he went to some kind of cool rock concert last night.”
“Wow. He must’ve stayed out pretty late if he didn’t have time to scrub it off.”
“Yeah, and that’s probably why his hair is so messy and dirty—because he cares more about rocking out than conforming to society.”
“Even though he isn’t popular in the traditional sense, I respect him from afar.”

————

Fifteen:
“Hey, look, that kid is reading ‘Howl,’ by Allen Ginsberg.”
“Wow. He must be some kind of rebel genius.”
“I’m impressed by the fact that he isn’t trying to call attention to himself.”
“Yeah, he’s just sitting silently in the corner, flipping the pages and nodding, with total comprehension.”
“It’s amazing. He’s so absorbed in his book that he isn’t even aware that a party is going on around him, with dancing and fun.”
“Why aren’t any girls going over and talking to him?”
“I guess they’re probably a little intimidated by his brilliance.”
“Well, who wouldn’t be?”
“I’m sure the girls will talk to him soon.”
“It’s only a matter of time.”

————

Sixteen:
“Hey, look, it’s that kid Simon, who wrote that scathing poem for the literary magazine.”
“You mean the one about how people are phonies? Wow—I loved that poem!”
“Me, too. Reading it made me realize for the first time that everyone is a phony, including me.”
“The only person at this school who isn’t a phony is Simon.”
“Yeah. He sees right through us.”

A wish.

2007-10-12T09:19:00.001-04:00

I wish I had known Emily Iafrate better when we lived in the same town. Or maybe not even that. I wish I knew Emily better now. Now that we both seem to miss home and have similar ideas on pleasure and good music. I wish I had a porch that I could invite her to sit on and we could sit there with drinks and listen to some of that good music and watch hummingbirds or watch the leaves fall or stare at big fluffy fall clouds and get excited about scarf wearing weather.

Emily's blog makes me think I missed out on something.

But for serious.

2007-10-11T15:35:00.001-04:00

This not blogging is tearing us apart.

Who has a synonym for "partner" that is formal and business like? But you can't use cooperator or associate or colleague or stakeholder. Go!

What's a way to say that we value the way that you help us solve problems without ever using the word "problem" or any other word that could imply that something is wrong? Also, you can't couch it as "opportunities for improvement"? Go!

How many different ways can you find to say when something started without using actual dates or numbers and without overusing words like "recently" or phrases like "not long ago"? Go!

That's what my job is like.

It's possible...

2007-10-11T08:19:00.001-04:00

that I could like pot humor if cats were the ones making the jokes.

Let's keep this short.

2007-10-10T08:09:00.000-04:00

Had a dream that I was fat. I couldn't look down and see the fat but other people saw it when they looked at me. I just saw myself as normal. I found out b/c Jason Rohrbaugh told a friend of his that I wasn't just fat, I was REALLY fat. So fat that he was moving out of town. This dream combines two of my fears: being overweight and not knowing something that everyone else already knows.

I said a while ago that there was something in the mail. That wasn't just cute, there really is something in the mail. And it's still there. I hope. I mean, as far as I know. But it isn't here and here is where I need it to be to give it to you.

I keep having a memory of something that didn't happen. Actually, it's an amalgam of two distinct memories that did happen. Neither of them is exciting and together they're not anymore exciting. It's about a particular phone conversation that I had at my apartment. Only in my new memory I keep recalling it as having occurred in my car while driving away from my parents' house in WV. Why should that be the case? Does this signal something significant about my parents or my car or my phone or the person on the other end of it?

Waste Time

2007-10-09T08:27:00.001-04:00

While I'm sure you're all waiting on tenterhooks to read a new blog, I'm working on a rush speech assignment for our administrator. So zing to you...no blog yet.

But to waste time, I'd sugguest wikipedia.

In the future...

2007-10-04T07:59:00.000-04:00

bathroom stalls will be soundproofed so that when I hear someone fart really loudly and then an old lady comes out of the stall, I won't have to feel quite so weird knowing that a little piece of the inside of her anus just went up my nose and caused that smell. Gross but true.

You are so frigging welcome.

2007-10-03T14:34:00.000-04:00

Guys, I frigging love Michael Chabon. I've read A Model World and Other Stories, Wonder Boys, and The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay. All are truly good books (especially Kavalier & Clay). But also, I love dino comics. Please, click on the comic below and read the amusing mixture of the two of them. Warning: this may not be so funny if you don't love Michael Chabon and T-Rex.

Dentist

2007-10-02T10:50:00.000-04:00

On my way into the dentist's office there was an old lady running to catch the elevator. I held the door for her. She said (in a heavy accent), "Thank you. You're so strong. Those doors...those doors clamp down on you like the regime. But you're strong." I didn't tell her that they have sensors to prevent them from shutting on you and that I was in no danger and didn't have to use much force to stop them from closing. I was a tiny hero to her. I couldn't ruin that.

The other guy in the elevator was a mumbler. Once the lady got off, we had the following exchange.

G: You're a nice lady.
M: Uh, yeah. I do what I can.
G: I said, "it's a nice day."
M: Yeah, that too.

Whatever.

The hygenist used one of those spit suctioners on me. I wonder where all the spit goes. Do they have a bucket or a jug filled with it that they have to dump? How often do they dump it? Is it all viscious or does it just look like water? Is that their least favorite part of the job?

There was a pamphlet about gum disease with a guy on the cover wearing a suit. Nothing about him screamed "gum disease". But the way he was standing and smiling somehow called attention to the strangeness of ties. Little thin strips of decorated fabric that we tie in a knot. Weird.

Vet

2007-10-02T09:10:00.000-04:00

I made Jimmy an appointment with the vet for Monday morning at 8. I don't think he has earmites but there's for sure something going on and I need to figure out if it's going to affect Milo too. My vet has a cat practice. Actually, it's called A Cat Practice. No dogs. No birds. No snakes. No etcs.

While I like knowing that my vet is really good with cats, I hate how strict they are. They've been nagging me about Jimmy's shots for 6 months or more. Why? He's an indoor cat. The most dangerous thing he comes up against is a catnip stuffed lobster named Fidel.

Anyway, my new concern is that the vet will want to see Milo if, in fact, Jimmy has something that could affect Milo. Between the two of them going to the vet and getting an exam and shots and ear medicine, we'd be looking at an easy $200-$300. Plus...my cats try to kill themselves every time we get in the car. Jimmy whines, foams, vomits, and rips his claws out. Milo mews, lays low, and vacates everything from his body. It's stressful and awful.

But, overall, isn't it better to be sure that you have healthy pets than to sit and stew and wonder if there's something wrong?

You so crazy.

2007-10-01T09:53:00.000-04:00

I just spoke to the craziest Sprint representative in Sprint representative history. I called because I was trying to upgrade to a new phone online but the site wants me to select the length of my service plan. I already have a 2 year contract (which is why they're giving me a free new phone) so I was confused because the way it was phrased sounded like they wanted me to sign a new 2 year contract. Yeah...so, I figured that I'd call a dude to see what the deal was and get him to explain whatever the hidden charges were.

M: So if I select "Upgrade/Replace" it won't cancel my service to my current phone, right?
Rep: Well, just make sure that you select "Upgrade".
M: That isn't an option. I can either select "New Phone Line" or "Upgrade/Replace" but it doesn't allow me to choose between "Upgrade" and "Replace".
R: Don't pay attention to that. Ignore it.
M: Uhh...are you sure?
R: Yeah, umm...so long as you didn't report your phone stolen it'll automatically upgrade.
M: Okay cool.
R: If you order it from me instead of online you can get it faster.
M: Oh, okay. What charges are there? Like for activation and stuff?
R: There's a $12 shipping charge and a $18 activation charge.
M: But it says here that if I order it online the shipping is free and they waive the activation charge.
R: Yeah, that's a web special.
M: So why wouldn't I do that?
R: (sounding panicky) But you can get it faster if you get it from me. I can ship it to you overnight. If you order online you could wait for up to 10 days.
M: So?
R: That's a longer waiting time.
M: Yeah. I get that. But I don't care. There's no hurry.
R: Okay. Yeah then...you can just get it online.
M: Great.
R: (sternly) I'm not laughing.
M: Uhhh....(wondering if he's talking to someone else in the room)
R: I'm not laughing, you know.
M: Ummm, okay. That's cool.
R: I'm just trying to say...I just said "yes" like 3 times in a row. I might sound nervous but I'm not nervous.
M: Oh. Okay. That's good.
R: I'm not nervous.
M: _____________
R: Is there anything else I can help you with today?

Maybe you had to be on the other end of the phone to understand how truly crazy that dude sounded. 1. Who said you were laughing? 2. You didn't say "yes" 3 times in a row. 3. Even if you had said "yes" 3 times in a row, how would that indicate either laughter or nervousness?

I wonder if there was static on the line and he misheard my "Okay" as "WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING??? ARE YOU NERVOUS???"

I don't know...but now I feel nervous myself.

Money.

2007-09-28T11:05:00.000-04:00

I just ordered a Gillian Welch album and two Ryan Adams albums. I could really get used to having a little bit of extra money.

I had a little bit of extra money right before I moved away from Morgantown. I was making a pretty good living for Morgantown, teaching a bunch of classes and taking on extra work wherever I could. As a teacher, you have big chunks of time that are empty and I figured that I might as well fill them since everyone else had a job that required they be there all day. If I wasn't working, there wasn't anyone to hang out with anyway.

Then I transitioned from TA to Adjunct Professor. I knew that there was going to be a bit of a pay bump but I didn't think it'd be more than like a hundred bucks.

Then I got my first paycheck for adjuncting and was sure there had been a mistake. It was for $880. I called up the woman that does accounting for WVU's English Department and asked why they had paid me in a lump sum. Was I now getting paid monthy instead of bi-weekly? And she was like, "What? What are you talking about?" I told her how much the check was for and that my old check had been like half of that...or less. And she explained that they hadn't paid me in a lump sum and that I was still getting paid bi-weekly. I repeated what she said. "You mean that I get paid $880 every two weeks?" "Yes." I repeated it back to her 3 or 4 more times. I asked her to double check the books or the log or whatever the hell they use to know about these things.

Surely this was my Monopoly moment. "Bank error in your favor. Collect double what you're worth every two weeks." I knew I should keep my mouth shut and just take the money. But that's not my way. I'm a worrier and as a worrier I'm always scared that someone will come back months after realizing the error and make me pay back money that I no longer have. (I also worry about near Earth objects, failing at life and having to go back a few levels [repeating high school, going back to the dorms, etc.], and how my entire apartment is subject to entropy.)

But it wasn't a mistake. I got to keep the money and the money just kept coming on a bi-weekly basis.

It was so much expendable income. Let's break this down.

Rent--$250 (utilities included)
Netflix--$25
Cell Phone--$60
Car Insurance--$34
Gas--$50 (that's a generous estimate...I didn't need to drive much in Morgantown)
Groceries--$100
Entertainment--$50 (again...generous...all I need was a $9 half gallon of Vladimir and I was set to go for at least two weeks)

Remaining Expendable Income:$1191

WHAT? I was so amped. Finally, I could buy brand name things if I wanted to. I could shop at a real grocery store. I could buy things that weren't second hand.

That first month was great. I went to Wal-Mart and bought everything that was on my list of "Stuff I Need to Buy". I didn't have to add things up or debate which I needed more, soap or a toothbrush. I just put everything in the cart. I bought a new vaccum. I went to Target and got some sweaters. I took Hess to dinner. When I was done doing everthing that I could think to do, I still had money. I just saved it.

Yeah, September 2005 was awesome. October...not so much.

At the end of August I had interviewed for my current job. They called at the end of September to offer it to me. I was going to have to move. I needed first month's rent and a security deposit and enough money to tide me over until I got my first paycheck and that would take a month. Everything I made from then on out went into savings. I was back to an ascetic lifestyle.

And I pretty much have been ever since. My first year here I wasn't making much and my rent had quadrupled from what I was accustomed to paying in Morgantown. There was a moment of reprieve in February of this year when my raise kicked in. It was so sweet. Extra money. Again! Then my car died. And just as I was getting used to the idea that I could periodically afford to buy some sushi, it was taken away. Fucking car payments and higher insurance.

But I can see more money on its way. And there's nothing that could ruin it now. Everything I have has already died and been replaced. My car, my computer, and soon--my couch.

Surely this means that I'm going to die or something. The universe will not let me have a steady stream of expendable income.

"Childrens do learn," Bush tells school kids

2007-09-28T09:06:00.000-04:00

Wed Sep 26, 2:03 PM ET

Offering a grammar lesson guaranteed to make any English teacher cringe, President George W. Bush told a group of New York school kids on Wednesday: "Childrens do learn."

Bush made his latest grammatical slip-up at a made-for-TV event where he urged Congress to reauthorize the No Child Left Behind Act, the centrepiece of his education policy, as he touted a new national report card on improved test scores.

The event drew New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg, Education Secretary Margaret Spellings plus teachers and about 20 fourth and fifth graders from P.S. 76.

During his first presidential campaign, Bush -- who promised to be the "education president" -- once asked: "Is our children learning?"

On Wednesday, Bush seemed to answer his own question with the same kind of grammatical twist. "As yesterday's positive report card shows, childrens do learn when standards are high and results are measured," he said.

The White House opted to clean up Bush's diction in the official transcript.

Bush is no stranger to verbal gaffes. He often acknowledges he was no more than an average student in school and jokes about his habit of mangling the English language.

Just a day earlier, the White House inadvertently showed how it tries to prevent Bush from making even more slips of the tongue than he already does. As Bush addressed the U.N. General Assembly on Tuesday, a marked-up draft of his speech briefly popped up on the U.N. Web site, complete with a phonetic pronunciation guide to get him past troublesome names of countries and world leaders.
_______________________________________

Oh. Yes. Also, here are some other choice Bushisms from the last 2 years.

"Information is moving -- you know, nightly news is one way, of course, but it's also moving through the blogosphere and through the Internets." --George W. Bush, Washington, D.C., May 2, 2007

"Either we'll succeed, or we won't succeed. And the definition of success as I described is sectarian violence down. Success is not no violence." --George W. Bush, on Iraq, Washington, D.C., May 2, 2007

"There are jobs Americans aren't doing. ... If you've got a chicken factory, a chicken-plucking factory, or whatever you call them, you know what I'm talking about." --George W. Bush. Tipp City, Ohio, April 19, 2007

"The solution to Iraq -- an Iraq that can govern itself, sustain itself and defend itself -- is more than a military mission. Precisely the reason why I sent more troops into Baghdad." --George W. Bush, Washington, D.C., April 3, 2007

Maria Bartiromo: "I'm curious, have you ever googled anybody? Do you use Google?"
President Bush: "Occasionally. One of the things I've used on the Google is to pull up maps. It's very interesting to see -- I've forgot the name of the program -- but you get the satellite, and you can -- like, I kinda like to look at the ranch. It remind me of where I wanna be sometimes." --interview with CNBC's Maria Bartiromo, Oct. 24, 2006

"I said I was looking for a book to read, Laura said you ought to try Camus. I also read three Shakespeares. ... I've got a eck-a-lec-tic reading list." --George W. Bush, interview with NBC's Brian Williams, New Orleans, La., Aug. 29, 2006

"I think -- tide turning -- see, as I remember -- I was raised in the desert, but tides kind of -- it's easy to see a tide turn -- did I say those words?" --George W. Bush, asked if the tide was turning in Iraq, Washington, D.C., June 14, 2006

"That's George Washington, the first president, of course. The interesting thing about him is that I read three -- three or four books about him last year. Isn't that interesting?" --George W. Bush, while showing German newspaper reporter Kai Diekmann the Oval Office, Washington, D.C., May 5, 2006

"That's called, A Charge To Keep, based upon a religious hymn. The hymn talks about serving God. The president's job is never to promote a religion." --George W. Bush, showing German newspaper reporter Kai Diekmann the Oval Office, Washington, D.C., May 5, 2006

A question.

2007-09-27T10:20:00.001-04:00

Season 6 of Buffy: WTF? Seriously.

Your Mom's a title for my blog.

2007-09-26T08:29:00.000-04:00

Life is a joy for losers.

I don't think that losers know that they're losers. The kind of people that are capable of asking themselves, "Damn, am I a loser?" or affirming to themselves, "Hey, I think I might be a loser." are also the type of people for whom being a loser is a thing to be concerned about. They're people for whom loserness is a problem to be avoided. Consequently, they'll take the appropriate measures to ensure that they are not currently, and do not become, a loser. Losers don't ask themselves if they're a loser and they are incapable of taking steps to avoid or rectify such a situation (thus their loserly status). For them, it's a nonissue.

For losers, loserness is a moving target. That is to say, the shadow that their loserly self casts on the cave wall bears no resemblance for them to the idea of a loser. Me? A loser? No, no, no. I mean sure...I wear a utilikilt and I borrowed money from my grandma to go to Otakon but I'm pretty sure that I'm going to be promoted to an associate at Wal-Mart and from there I can really launch my career into douchebaggery and pick up some sweet young cosplay babes.

(Seriously, what's up cosplay babes? Sometimes you're so hot but you're all like dumbass young. Dude...am I a skeezy pervy loser for thinking that? Oh zing. I just illustrated my own point. Please take note that my self awareness officially puts me in the "not a loser" category. [However, I think I can still safely be put in the "skeezy pervy" category for making that remark.])

He might be aware that others in a similar situation could be considered a loser but he can't imagine that that would apply to him. After all, he's him. He's Dude. Dude believes that he's self-aware enough to know if he were a loser. For sure, he thinks he'd be the first to know.

But he isn't. We are the first to know. Dude might concede that his situation is remarkably lame but he always keeps pushing the mark of a loser further and further away. It's like getting older. You think that 20 is pretty old until you hit 20 and then you decide that 28 is old but when you get to 28 you move that mark to the late 30s and so on. For him, he's always a few slurpees shy of being the dude outside 7-11 checking out the bounce in your shirt. For him, there's always some key aspect of being a loser that he's pretty sure he lacks. So yeah...I think he's probably happy.
_______________________________________________________

The following came from Sean's blog:

I tried to argue that the [tattoo] removals happen because many people get tattoos when they are young or drunk or stupid-heads. The bikers turned doctors. The 'I love you M' ass tattoos. The "I want a peace sign with something in it that says 'don't fuck with me'".

I hope marriage is like that too. That, like tattoos, there are cool marriages and lame marriages, and that cool people can tell the difference, and that I'm a cool person.

I like this idea.

Though I've lived with tons of insignficant others, I've not yet lived with an other that was signifcant in any fashion. And so I have a very romanticized idea of living with a boyfriend. I assume that it's like a constant sleepover.

I like to think of leaving a warm bed full of a warm boy in the mornings. I'd lean over him all sleepy and kiss his forehead before I go to work or vice versa. I like to think that we'd make dinner together and talk to the cats and review our days and be genuinely interested in what the other has to say. I like to think that I could settle in an overstuffed chair (one of those giant chairs you can really sprawl in...god, I want one of those) and read a book or watch some XFiles while he played videogames and we'd be fine just being separate from each other. We could be together but left alone.

I think about inside jokes and familiar touching. I imagine what our fights would be like and how we'd have to get used to seeing each other when we don't look our best.

My lack of experience living with a boyfriend probably means that I'm not a good judge of how married life is likely to be. I'm fine with that. I don't feel much need to get married. But I do feel a desire to live with someone. Even if it's just to find out that I've been wildly mistaken about how fun it'll be. Maybe it isn't a kiss fest. Maybe it's not just burying your head in the soft skin of their stomach and smelling them. But then again, maybe it is.
_____________________________________________

I had some toast with peanut butter for breakfast. It always reminds me of being in kindergarten. My mom used to give me peanut butter toast and let me eat it out on our deck sitting at the picnic table. Actually, it was a tiny picnic table that my dad built to fit little kids.

There's a very small thing coming in the mail. Nothing to get worked up about. Just a package with something inside. Penny.

Did I ever tell you...

2007-09-25T15:03:00.000-04:00

about the day I found out that Marie Wells pees corn?

Marie Wells was a jerk. Even for a first grader. This one time she totally stole my little purple purse. I later found it in her desk and I was like, "Marie, that's my purse." Marie said, "No, it isn't. It's mine." And I was like, "Umm...nuh uh. I can tell it's mine. It's got my Michael Jackson pin on it because I'm in love with him and I'm planning on having his babies." And Marie said, "No, my dad gave me that Michael Jackson pin." Which was a damn lie because the only thing Marie Wells ever got from her dad were cigarette burns and bad posture.

One day, Marie was being her usual jerky self and Mrs. Boyce told her that she had to stay inside to eat her lunch and she couldn't have after lunch recess. The rest of us went to lunch per our normal routine. When we returned to the classroom there was a puddle of pee on the floor under Mare Wells' desk and--right there...in front of my very own eyes--there were little corn niblets in the pee.

And it hit me...Marie Wells pees corn? Marie Wells pees corn. Oh. My. God. Marie Wells pees corn!

That makes sense. Of course she pees corn. She would pee corn. That's so Marie. Oh man, I bet she's super ashamed of herself. Peeing in public and peeing corn no less. That's totally gross.

I envisioned Marie peeing herself and making sad little faces when the niblets plopped out. I imagined her running from the room, too embarrassed to cope with the freakish nature of her urinary tract. She'd likely never come back. Nope. Not now that we all knew the truth about her.
When Mrs. Boyce came back into the room she apologized. She had been waiting for a custodian to bring a mop and was hoping that she could have it cleaned up before we returned. Marie, she informed us, had had an accident.

No lie, lady! She peed corn all over the floor!

Then some kid was like, "Why is there corn on the floor?" I laughed in my own head at how stupid some kids can be. Idiot. Marie Wells pees corn! But Mrs. Boyce explained that--in her haste to leave the room and flee the evidence of her accident--Marie had knocked her lunch try off her desk where she was eating and some corn niblets fell to the floor.

So, Marie Wells doesn't pee corn? What a ripoff.

And I point this out because it's a sad moment. It's the moment that I stopped believing that people could possibly pee corn or have super powers and started down the path of skepticism. So yeah, sort of sad.

No Bone Movies

2007-09-25T13:16:00.000-04:00

The following blog was written by my long time friend and great buddy, Nick. Nick manages a Blockbuster store in Columbus, Ohio.

No Bone Movies

An exchange between myself and an approx. 8-10 year old girl who presumably was on her way to her soccer game or just finished her soccer game or was sporting her "soccer player" Halloween costume early or was just plain a fraud:

G: Excuse me, can you help me, can you tell me what might be some good bone movies?
N: Bone movies?
G: Yes
N: Bone?
G: Yes
N: I'm not sure what you're asking me
G: Like movies about people made out of bones
N: BONE? People made out of bones?
G: There's one I wanted, I can't remember what it's called
N: A person made out of bones? Like a skeleton?
G: Like a person...with bones (motions, presenting her arm)
N: Hmm...
G: You probably wouldn't know what I'm talking about, nevermind.

I suspect she was either on drugs or her parents were cultists. Recommend a good bone movie? Like I have a bone movie section, and she wants me to point out a handful of the best? And what is a person made out of bones if not some sort of reanimated skeleton? The word "skeleton" evoked no glimmer of recognition. I truly had no idea what she was talking about. And yes, I am aware Ozzy Osbourne has a song called "No Bone Movies" about adult films, and I will not entertain the idea that this was her angle. I must find these esoteric bone movies.

COME ON!

2007-09-25T09:41:00.000-04:00

Facebook is now giving me the option of searching my entire AIM buddy list to see if any of the people on there are also on facebook. If they're not already on facebook, I can send them a message to prod them into signing up. Okay. That's not unreasonable. Importing a list of contacts from one place to another is a pretty easy way of finding people. (Let's just ignore the fact that if you're too busy to look through profiles and find your friends the old fashioned way, then you probably have no business being on a site that's designed around the premise that you're the kind of person that's interested in wasting time by reading an arbitrary set of unrevealing questions that your friends and acquaintances have painstakingly answered. "What are my favorite books? Gee. How can I answer this in such a way that the people of the internet understand that I'm smart, hip, into their cool liberal ideals, and desirable to the max? Hmm...Siddhartha. Yes, I'll say that my favorite book is Siddhartha." Seriously, is that book on everyone's favorite fucking book list?)

OkCupid has a facebook thing too. I didn't bother checking it out but I'm sure it's the same sort of thing that facebook has with AIM. With this new OkCupid/Facebook mash-up you can double your ability to be made angry and uncomfortable by fatasses with dumb ideas. Hooray?

Then, this morning, I went online to buy my ticket for the Lucero show. After making my purchase, ticketmaster tells me that they're now linked to facebook and I can search to see who else is going to the show. Use of a shwat? Come. The Fuck. On. This is out of hand.

5 Senses

2007-09-24T13:45:00.000-04:00

I touched a stingray. It felt like high quality, wet velvet but more muscely.

Ate some really good sashimi at a fancy restaurant from which I had a great view of Alcatraz.

Smelled Mediterranean fruit fly pheromones. Super gross. It's like an incredibly potent cough syrup mixed with household cleaner.

Heard some fake birdcalls on something called a squawkbox.

From this information I can conclude that California, like every other place I've ever visited, has things that can stimulate each of my 5 senses. And hooray for that.

_______________________________________

My birthday is coming up and I have the itch to have a party. Not the sit around in wooden chairs and stare awkwardly at the coffee table kind of party. Not the 16 year old girl throwing up in your sink kind of debaucherous shindigs of yesterday. What I'd like to have is a reasonable mix of both reasonable and unreasonable people with the best of worst intentions and enough alcohol to make our dreams come true. But those parties are rare and I'm just getting my hopes up if I start thinking like that.

But how about a porch sitting, beer drinking party? How about an XFiles drinking game party? Or a party game party? Or a vodka swilling, "what would you do if _____?" party? That sounds pretty good. Maybe a party where all we do is sit around and chat and smile and think that life is pretty good sometimes and there's tasty salsa and no real reason to not be in this room, with these people, engaging in that activity. Yeah, that sounds pretty good.

Now, the only problem is that I don't have many friends in Maryland. I mean, I have friends but they were Ben's friends before they were my friends. And I like them and have a good time with them but if they come to my birthday party will they be wondering, "Where are all of Mandi's friends? All I see here are Ben's friends that she's entitled to by virtue of dating him. Is she incapable of getting her own friends?" Well...am I? The answer is, "Sort of." And now that that's out of the way, please continue drinking. You'll find that I'm much more charming with each drink that passes your lips.

You had me at saving $70.

2007-09-24T08:58:00.000-04:00

Oh Sprint...you know how to please me. When I went online to check my bill today there was a charge for 121 text messages totaling $18. But I had added the $5 a month 300 text message plan. So what the fuck? I call Sprint up and I'm all, "Sprint, what's your problem man?" And Sprint's all, "Dang. Yeah. I see what you're saying. How's about we remove $13 of that charge and just charge you for the $5 package?" And I'm all, "Cool. I feel really positively towards you now." And so they see the opening and they're like, "Well, how's about renewing your contract with us for another 2 years? We'll knock $70 off your current bill and give you a $150 credit towards a new phone." So I'm thinking to myself that I could maybe use a new phone and I could for fucking sure use $70 and I also know that I'm unlikely to give enough of a crap to ever bother changing to a different cell phone service provider and so now seems like as good a time as any to renew. So yeah, now I have a fine selection of about 3 0r 4 low end cell phones that are free to choose from. They'll all be just barely serviceable like the free phones always are but you know...free.

I care only as much as is required of me.

2007-09-14T11:54:00.000-04:00

I never much bothered with getting really into a subculture. From the names I was called in high school and the appearance of the people shouting them at me, I gathered that I was not a part of the mainstream. That left everything else. And let me tell you, everything else is a pretty big category. Everything else runs the gamit of interesting, including kinda interesting, sorta interesting, there's one little interesting thing, we ingest interesting things, we kick interesting things, we light interesting things on fire, we fuck interesting things, we wish we were hot enough to fuck interesting things, we play interesting games, we dress in interesting ways, we move our bodies in an interestingly awkward fashion, we talk about interesting things, we build an interesting mythos for ourselves, etc. You get the idea.

The point is, I understood what my subculture options were and I was happy with those options but I was never very good at being a member of a subculture. I couldn't be bothered to get invested in my cultural signs and signifiers in that way. Truth is, I'll swear allegiance to anything that benefits me at the moment. You like nerd guys? Learn to play Magic and be a nerd girl. You're dating a dude that's a techie for your high school drama group? Start being in plays and becoma a drama dork so you can spend some time making out with him in the green room. (Or does this just indicate that I'd do anything for a cute boy?)

Subcultures should be about readily and easily identifying sets of information related to others and providing the same kind of information to them. They should make your life easier. But they don't. They have rules and prescribed behaviors and it's not like I'm saying, "Dude, I can't be put in a box." I'm saying that it's work and I'm not interested in doing the kind of work it is.

Plus, subcultures have interests that are bundled together like cable packages. If you want TLC then you have to have HG TV too. If you like hacky sacking then you have to smoke pot. They get all entangly. Cumbersome.

Oh nevermind...I started writing this blog a few hours ago and work interrupted it and now I'm bored with it. Stupid subcultures.

Oh but wait, my title...yes...dammit...this blog had so much potential. I was gonna talk about how I'm only interested in politics in as much as I have to identify as liberal for people to understand that I'm young, hip, and sexy. It's the adult subculture. So yeah...only care as much as is required of you...which is to say, care enough so that people understand how desirable you are.

I have to make some changes.

2007-09-14T11:02:00.000-04:00

I'm a creature of habit. I get into a routine and I stay in it. This can be both good and bad when it comes to physical activity. It ensures that I run every day but it also ensures that I run the same way, on the same trail or elliptical every day. The problem is, there aren't many places--safe places anway--where I can go running. That tends to limit my options for varying the terrain. Thus, I'm at a standstill. This happens to me constantly. Last year when it happened I changed my routine from 30 minutes to 45 minutes. Before that, I added strength training. But I'm at a bit of a difficult impass now. I can't keep adding time to my workout. I'm gonna have to get creative. I'm going to have to vary things...to run in different intervals with some hard runs in there or finally start using that jump rope I bought. Or just doing 3 longer 45 minute runs a week and 2 shorter but more intense 30 minute runs in a week. Something. It's either vary the routine or stay exactly the same and see no additional benefits to working out. The second one isn't really an option.

While I like feeling good and active and all that jazz, I really hate having to think about it a lot. But I do. And I worry. When I miss a day of my planned workout, I feel like I'm immediately going to get enormous. It's stupid but fat is something I never want to be. I'm fine with being round so long as the round is in the right places.

So yeah...new plan for when I get back from California. And hopefully there'll be time to run in California...I mean, talk about varying your routine. Run 2 days in Maryland and 3 in California. Sure, it's a costly endeavor...but well worth it? Maybe.

Note to Self: Post those pictures.

2007-09-14T08:51:00.000-04:00

Note to Self: You don't look as cute in a pattern on pattern outfit as you think you do. Makes your trunk look all...well...like a trunk. Also, stop standing by the skinniest person you know to get pictures taken.

Note to Self: Do continue standing beside gay friends to get a picture taken. Notice how slimming John's Red Strip is. That's the true power of overpriced Jamacian beer.

Note to Self: You and Hess have weird pie faces where your features are all centered in the middle and then there are vast expanses of skin that contain no features. It's weird. Not entirely unattractive but maybe you're like a new breed to tard?

Dude...what?

2007-09-14T08:15:00.001-04:00

Someone stole or threw out my butter. I went to make my toast this morning and it wasn't in the refrigerator in the lounge that it's usually in. I moved stuff around, shoved stuff to the side, threw away some rotten bagels...but still, no Soy Garden butter. So I checked the other three refrigerators in the lounge. Nothing. Who would take my half used butter? And why? And will it reappear? Will they realize their mistake? Dammit. That was my butter. I had to make a trip to Trader Joe's to get it since it's the only place I know of that sells it.

To save my toast, I used peanut butter. My toast will be tasty but I'll be fighting back the bitter memory of losing my actual butter.

Excerpts From a Romance Novel: Part II

2007-09-13T08:44:00.000-04:00

From Connie Brockway's excellent novel My Seduction. Jacket blurb reads, "In the company of a Highlander, no woman is entirely out of danger." True that. I know we've all been in a situation where we're with this highlander and we're all, "I'm totally safe." But you're not!!! You can't be entirely out of danger when you're in the company of a highlander. Valuable lesson to learn, ladies.

A synopsis of My Seduction:

"Desperate to keep her two sisters and herself from the poorhouse Kate Nash Blackburn embarks upon a journety to northern Scotland, where she hopes to gain the gratitude and patronage of a wealthy marquis. When fate maroons her at a tavern full of ruffians, a brawny Highland soldier comes to her rescue. It's Kit MacNeill, the man whose pledge to her family has haunted her for years. When he offers to escort Kate through the treacherous Highlands to Castle Parnell, she accepts even though her instincts warn her against trusting this rough and dangerous man. But soon Kate is startled by the Highlander's cultured speech and courtly manners. Who is this man of contradictions, shaped by a shadowy past, who fiercly wards off an attempt on her life, whose broad shoulders beckon her touch, and in whose arms she comes fully alive?"

Oh man. A tavern full of ruffians? A brawny, rough, and dangerous man with a shadowy past? A beautiful woman seeking the patronage fo a wealthy marquis? I ought to sue Connie Brockway for stealing stories from my own life. Seriously, I should be getting royalties for this.

The mere presence of Kit creates a warm sensation in Kate. Let's read...

"She did not reply, flustered by him: his size; the leathery masculine scent of him; the breadth of his shoulders; the rough stubble on his chin and cheeks; the easy competence of his hands on the reins. She was entirely too aware of him."

But what would happen if we were to rewrite that small snippet to reflect something much closer to an actual experience?

"She could not reply, taken aback by him: his childlike body; the heady Chipotle burrito scent on him; the impressive expanse of his videogame knowledge; the rough skin on his chapped lips that he just couldn't stop biting and tonguing; the commandingly intense way his slim fingers clench a Mountain Dew bottle when he's DMing a particularly engrossing game. It was too much."

Sounds like my type of man. Actually...it kind of does...just minus the childlike body thing. Fucking hell.

Kate's pretty hot too:

"[H]er dark hair caught the fire of the setting sun. Her lips, ever, a lure and an entirecment, glistened--she had been sipping water or wine--and he remembered his suggestion--his threat--that she might drink from his mouth. His belly muscles tightened with lust... ."

Sean: the end of this sentence originally included ", and she did not know." Now, my preference is to not use an ellipsis b/c what I'm omitting doesn't change the meaning of the quoted text and it doesn't end as a fragment. But apparently MLA says I should include it. It provides me with the option of using a bracket to clear up the intent of the four dots. For example "His belly muscles tightened with lust [...]." I like that. It makes it clear that there's an ellipsis and then a period. But I could also write it as I have above (ellipsis, space, period) or just ...." I hate that one. A four dot ellipsis? What are we? Heathens?

Oh romance novels and punctuation. You amuse me to no end.