Daily Pointers

n shiny black pants and pointy shoes, what's not to like?' The cop kept on giv

2010-11-29T23:38:00.001-06:00

http://yvonnieerixon.ru.gg/agPdrueteex.htm

New Moon hysteria...

2009-11-12T14:20:00.001-06:00

God I hope it's called New Moon. I've referred to the second Twilight movie as New Moon for like a week now. Wouldn't I be the idiot if it was called Twilight 2 or something?

So I saw a New Moon display at Nordies the other day. They had cardboard cutouts of the wolf and the vampire (Jacob and Edward for those in the know) that you could buy. There were stacks and stacks of them lying around. And then there was the New Moon jewelry station. A whole table devoted strictly to all things Twilight. Fingering through all the "I heart Edward" dogchains, I was tempted to purchase one and wear it everyday to work. You know, for giggles and all. Not at all because I heart Edward or anything. But they were $24 dollars each! And that was the cheapest thing at the "vampires suck (me)!" table. It was shockingly appalling. Luckily they're having a free New Moon party this weekend to make up for it. Thank you Nordies. I have no idea what I'd do without you for my appropriate Twilight fan mania.

Oh and the regrettable part of the shopping experience? There was a tween girl pouring over the jewelry and giving everyone rehashes of the Twilight stories. I had to ask her the wolf's name (Jacob) a couple of times, because my short term memory is shit but to everyone else her information was unsolicited. Poor them.

Turns out G was right...

2009-11-02T15:50:00.003-06:00

G is always telling me not to shoot the finger to people while driving. He's always saying one day I'll get more than I bargained for. As an irate driver himself, it turns out he knows of what he speaks.

Two things one should immediately know about me: I'm too stupid to walk away from an aggressive situation and I'm a total wuss. I guess this translates to me having brass balls but punching like a person who doesn't know how to punch (I refuse to say "like a girl"). I'm kind of like my grandfather's rat terrier (rip to both), Bo, as in Bo Diddly, who didn't realize he was a tiny dog. And to be fair, he was triple the size of all his rat terrier brothers, so he came by his complex honestly. Bo was a big barker and growler and all around penis shower. All fine and dandy until he tried to scare away a possum in the yard and the possum wasn't having it. (Aside: this was also the day I realized those damn animals have lots and lots of teeth and thus developed a fear of them.) After much hissing and showing of teeth (by the possum), the dog lost his shit. For those of us watching, it was almost the funniest thing since the bulldog chasing incident of 1999. (That's another story altogether but the visual is Bo trying to jump inside the house, which wouldn't be that hard except he's too afraid to slow down enough to actually make the turn because a bulldog is hot on his heels. They proceed in laps around the house until one of us stops laughing long enough to take pity on him.) Anyway. I was Bo yesterday. And Jackass was the possum.

Short version: Jackass drove badly. I shot the finger. He banged on my car.

Long version: Jackass was driving an old bronco or jeep type of thing (no windows or ceiling) with a long flat bed trailer thing hoooked up. So his bad driving was especially bad driving given his load. I honked my horn at Jackass once he tried to get in my lane and smash my car. It was a bit of a long honk, because hello? The Jackass was trying to run me over. He turns around in his non-car and starts screaming and yelling at me for daring to honk at him. (At this point I probably should have realized I was dealing with a wild animal and it was best not to provoke but refer to the above paragraph and the thing about being stupid.) I waved my hands at him to shut up and move on into my lane if he needed to. See? Nice? He kept yelling while he was attempting to maneuvre lanes, even after I'd told him he could squeeze in in front of me, so I gave him the finger. (FYI, this is the action G is always telling me not to take. I have a prolific finger and use it at will.) Biiiig mistake. Jackass starts to get out of his car. Oops. My bad!

So I dart off in the next lane and go through the light we were waiting at (it was green). I just assumed that was the end of it and was waiting at the next light on the next block, mentally compiling my list for the grocery store. I looked in my rear view mirror and guess who was back? Jackass was pulling his trailer load and driving all over the street in an attempt to get in the lane next to mine. Jackass was driving even crazier than before. Imagine that! He pulls up next to me and definitely gets out of his car this time. He starts pounding on my car window yelling profanities, saying "watch where you put that finger," and spouting various other lovelies.

Still being a smart ass, I picked up my cell phone and showed it to him. Then I mouthed "9-1-1" as I started to push the buttons to show him I was going to call the cops on the crazy person acting a fool at 38th and Lamar. Of course he jumped right back into his jeep thing. That being that, I closed my phone, having had no intention of actually calling 911. I guess he realized I was fucking with him, because he seemed to get even angrier. Now I, personally, have never been called a whore. At least not to my face. But yesterday I was called a whore so much, I actually looked down at my sweater and jeans to verify that no boobs were sticking out or anything, just in case he thought I actually was advertising my body for money. It was just as I'd expected and everything was in place. I guess he wasn't being very accurate with his name calling and was just falling on whatever horrid female insult he could hurl at me.

I thought about giving him the finger a second time, especially when he was loudly lecturing me on my use of hand gestures (in the form of profanity filled screams), but by then my instincts told me to not aggravate the obvious crazy person. Too bad those instincts didn't kick in earlier. But by then the light turned green and he screeched off down the road into crappy car oblivion while I went on to the grocery store to buy my week's worth of lettuce and feta cheese.

If you guys ever come across a jackass in a white jeep/bronco with a TX license plate P48-KJM, tell him I said hi. And give him the finger, from me. Oh and did I mention the load in his trailer was a pink pedi-cab (those bicycle driven cab things)? I think the cosmic joke is on him.

Nightmare on My Street - Who Knew?

2009-10-30T14:32:00.003-05:00

What to my wondering ears should appear but one Fresh Prince and 8 midi drum riffs? I wonder whatever happened to DJ Jazzy Jeff? And the youtube below is the best. It's some kind of crazy Freddy tribute set to Fresh Prince's Nightmare on My Street. Think about that for a second. A tribute video. To Freddy. Set to a Fresh Prince song. Called Nightmare on My Street. The sheer amount of ridiculousness involved in this piece of genius is what Halloween is all about. And candy.

Enjoy!

I've been in a girl fight...

2009-10-27T16:58:00.002-05:00

with myself. I awoke Monday morning to find a huge fingernail scratch down the right side of my face. I vaguely remember something itching in that same area overnight and waking up periodically throughout the night with some horrid, stinging pain. But it wasn't until I looked in the mirror that everything came flooding back. So now I'm in constant pain (not severe but aggravating nonetheless as it's in my smile zone), and people keep asking me who I pissed off, what with the claw marks down my pretty, pretty face.

I keep looking at my fingernails trying to find the culprit. They all feel so soft and smooth though. It's hard to get mad at recently manicured nails, ya know?

Am still in shock...

2009-10-16T14:54:00.001-05:00

I cooked chicken sausages last night. For the first time EVER I cooked them on the stove and the smoke detector did not go off. And not because I took the batteries out like that one time but because I actually cooked them in a nice, normal way. You know, without the burning and such. I am a culinary genius. Bow before my kitchen glory.

And then there were... more...

2009-10-07T20:02:00.002-05:00

Harrison Ford. I fucking hated that stupid Indiana Jones movie that just came out anyway. If not for Shia, I would have left you and your idiotic crystal skulls to rot in Naziland (or wherever they were).

And the most devastating - Emma Thompson. I can't imagine someone who makes Jane Austen look so, so good could possibly sign something like this. I'm holding out hope a) it's an impostor and/or b) she's just stupid, not heartless.

Sam Mendes. I managed to miss his name originally. I might be stuck watching inane big-budget flicks if all my indie directors keep signing...

People suck. I'm still completely appalled that Natalie Portman would throw paint on my fur but wouldn't give a rat's ass if I decided to rape her little brother and/or son (if she had either). Nice, Nat, nice.

More names...

2009-10-01T09:32:00.002-05:00

Harrison Ford
Jeremy Irons
Natalie Portman (I've always disliked all her stupid opinions and editorials. Save your efforts and go save Israel with your animal friendly shoes, why don't you, Natalie?) - no offense meant to Israel or animal friendly shoes -
Kristin Scott Thomas
Penelope Cruz
Ethan Coen
Guillermo del Toro
Buck Henry
Brett Ratner
Bernardo Bertolucci
Gael Garcia Bernal
Mike Nichols

I am at a loss...

2009-09-30T10:11:00.002-05:00

Roman Polanski is a rapist. There is no discussion about it. The facts are not disputed. He gave a quaalude (or a "sliver" of one - whatever) with some champagne and then raped a 13 year-old girl orally, vaginally, and anally (that word seems wrong somehow). And let's be specific about her participation in the whole thing, if one can really say a 13 year-old has the wherewithall to participate in anything sexually, especially with a 43 year-old man. She told him to "keep away" from her and told police she didn't resist more because she was "afraid of him."

Regardless of whether she resisted or not, she was 13. A 13 year-old girl (kid) CANNOT consent to sexual activity with a man, 30 years her senior. Especially when she's drugged.

So why, then, are celebrities and/or artists (if that's what they really are) calling for the release of Polanski? They are going so far as to sign petitions asking for his release calling his arrest a "travesty," saying he's an artistic genius, etc., etc., etc. Of course there are issues involving any kind of extradition but to excuse his behavior because a) it was merely sex with a minor (no such thing - that's called rape)* or b) Polanski is a genius and therefore doesn't deserve to be locked up with all the common, gutter trash is absolutely fucking insane.

*I do believe there is a difference between this situation and a senior in high school having sex with his under 18 high school girlfriend.

If those assholes want to sign petitions eschewing their allegiance to a rapist, artistic or French as he may be, I will help them along. I'm posting their names and boycotting their products and/or work. It'll hurt but these fools deserve it. And I'll add any name I find along the way who supports Roman Polanski being released from prison.

Here are the ones I know of right now (I'm listing in order of my own personal importance w/r/t boycotting - the ones that'll hurt the most and then alphabetical after that):

David Lynch (this hurts my heart)
Wes Anderson (really? I always thought you were a freak but in a good way. Guess I was wrong.)
Martin Scorsese (give me a fucking break)
Diane von Furstenburg (ouch. good thing I can't afford her dresses anyway)
Michael Mann (guess I can't see anymore of your stupid movies with G now)
Jonathan Demme (like his work - Rachel Getting Married, Philadelphia, Silence of the Lambs, etc. Oh well.)
Harvey Weinstein (what has Polanski or child rape ever done for you that you owe them so?)
Tilda Swinton (um... you're living in a group marriage thing so I can understand you wanting to stand up for non-traditional relationships but this is not one of those)
Woody Allen (big surprise - pot, meet kettle)
Salman Rushdie (as if boycotting this douche will really hurt)

Isabelle Adjani
Pedro Almodovar
Paul Auster
Pedro Almodovar
Asia Argento
Jean-Jacques Annaud
Darren Aronofsky
Fanny Ardant
Asia Argento
Olivier Assayas
Gabriel Auer
Christophe Barratier
Gilles Behat
Marco Bellochio
Monica Bellucci
Jean-Jacques Beineix
Yamina Benguigui
Patrick Bouchitey
Jacques Bral
Pascal Bruckner
André Buytaers
Christian Carion
Henning Carlsen
Jean-Michel Carre
Patrice Chéreau
Elie Chouraqui
Souleymane Cissé
Alain Corneau
Jérôme Cornuau
Miguel Courtois
Alfonso Cuaron
Alexandre Desplat
Arielle Dombasle
Georges Dybman
Betrand van Effenterre
Jacques Fansten
Michel Ferry
Stephen Frears
Thierry Frémaux
Sam Gabarski
Tony Gatlif
Costa Gavras
Jean-Marc Ghanassia
Christian Gion
David Heyman
Laurent Heynemann
Isabelle Huppert
Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu
Gilles Jacob
Just Jaeckin
Pierre Jolivet
Neil Jordan
Nelly Kaplan
Wong Kar Waï
Jan Kounen
Harmony Korinne
Milan Kundera
Emir Kusturica
John Landis
Claude Lanzmann
Patrice Leconte
Bernard-Henri Levy
François Margolin
Mario Martone
Radu Mihaileanu
Jeanne Moreau
Claude Lanzmann
André Larquié
Claude Lelouche
Claude Miller
Mike Nichols
Michel Ocelot
Alexander Payne
Michele Placido
Jean-Paul Rappeneau
Yasmina Reza
Laurence Roulet
Walter Salles
Jean-Paul Salomé
Marc Sandberg
Julian Schnabel
Barbet Schroeder
Ettore Scola
William Shawcross
Abderrahmane Sissako
Paolo Sorrentino
Radovan Tadic
Danis Tanovic
Bertrand Tavernier
Cécile Telerman
Alain Terzian
Pascal Thomas
Daniele Thompson
Giuseppe Tornatore
Serge Toubiana
Nadine Trintignant
Tom Tykwer
Wim Wenders

Go buy the Girls' Album....

2009-09-28T12:56:00.001-05:00

No really. The Girls are a boy group and their album is titled Album. Go buy it now! I listened to it this morning and I'm officially completely sad and in love with the lead singer. My favorite lyrics are from Hellhole Race, which I'd quote from but I can't find them online, but my favorite sounding song is from Ghostmouth. Christopher Owens (singer) sounds like some kind of 50s crooner and it's completely awesome. The whole album seems to be about some girl he broke up with (or who broke up with him or simultaneously or whatever), but the sounds are so cool that I keep laughing during the middle of some heartbreaking diatribe about wanting to be happy again.

It's like Truvy (Dolly Parton) said in Steel Magnolia's, "laughter through tears is my favorite emotion." While I'm not sure laughter is emotion, I completely agree.

Listen to it on Pitchfork and go buy the album at Amazon.

So that's what that was called...

2009-09-22T13:14:00.003-05:00

I've learned a word (thank you Jezebel!) to describe my complete obsessive disorders related to my neighbors. It's called a hate crush. I wouldn't say I go so far as to "hate" my neighbors but at times the venom I spit out probably seems like that to others.

I do know the one neighbor plays tennis (as in carries multiple rackets and has a tennis bag backpack thing). He also reads the NYTimes on Sunday and drives a big truck, which he'd like to trade in for a Prius. He's recently updated his bumper sticker collection (vary sparse) with a school's mascot (not my school). He's pursuing an MBA at said school.

I suspect one of the other neighbors might either a) travel a lot for her job or b) be a high-class escort. Mainly due to the traveling and BMW she drives. I suppose her parents could be monied or she could have a boyfriend she spends a few nights a week with, but I've really latched on to the high-class escort theory. I like her a lot more lately, because we bonded over the horrid workers our landlord hires.

And the other couple. The couple. Who take up 2 parking spots in our small lot when each unit should really only get 1 spot. (I say this because I'd like to have a spot open at all times for my visitors - not theirs. I should win. I've been there longer.) And the stupid girl portion of the couple tries to steal my parking spot occasionally. It's not bad enough that they take two, but she's got to sneak in and steal mine when I'm gone for a few days? As if. My spot is MINE. It's right outside my apartment door and did I mention I've lived there longer than anyone else? I WIN.

There's also an inordinate amount of peeking out the window to see what the goings-on are out there in neighborland. Of course all of this is complete cheese compared to my hate crush on the previous neighbor (before the tennis playing boy above). I only realized the last day he was there - his move out day - that he only had one arm. The entire two years he'd been there I'd observed his sexual habits (suspected gayness more out of shirtlessness frolicking with other shirtless boys than actual boy kissing or anything), his sporting habits (crew, which come to think of it is slightly impressive given the whole one arm thing), his obnoxious friends (they were the worst parking infringers), and his suspected trashcan moving tactics (don't ask). I also fell over the stone fence thing behind his apartment once when I was trying to look for something. It hurt a lot.

Long way of saying that Jezebel rocks. They have given me a new label for my neuroses and I'm incredibly grateful for it.

I'm a little shocked...

2009-09-16T11:27:00.003-05:00

Admittedly I've been avoiding most of the "you lie"/Rep. Wilson mess since it happened. I preferred not to contribute to what I considered low hypocrisy on the part of Wilson and the media frenzy that followed. Not to say I wasn't ticked, but I figured there were bigger things to worry about (i.e. my boss not eating me alive today for one).

Last night I stumbled across KO for the first time in a couple of weeks (I guess since the Wilson mess) and heard the dreaded R word - race. At first I sort of laughed a little. Race? Wilson was just being a jackass. How does that have anything to do with racism or race issues? Wasn't this just Keith being a little out there? I normally agree with most things Countdown but not always. And I thought maybe this was one of those "not always" bits. But then I read about Jimmy Carter thinking the same thing. And then I clicked on "white supremists" on jezebel and found out that Wilson has a history of supporting white segregationists with confederate flag complexes. I think that last bit is perhaps a stretch on calling Wilson racist or anything, but it does sort of get to the heart of the question: does race play a role in all of this vitrolic Obama hate from the right?

I'm one of those naive people who likes to say they understand the role race plays in modern America, all the while being white and middle-class and completely incapable of understanding the role race plays in modern America. I've never dared to say we're in a post-racial society though, because, quite frankly, I know better. I know people. I've heard things. We're not even close to being there. But I did think, again naively, that Obama getting elected meant there were more of us than them. And the "them" was not as vocal and/or adament as one might imagine.

I guess I'm a little shocked, because I've just realized I'm wrong. Or that I was wrong. Or stupid or whatever you want to call it. I didn't want to think these vocal minorities were inherently incensed because of race. (I still don't want to think it.) I also didn't want to be a person who screamed "racism" at every person who had some kind of criticism or complaint, regardless of its accuracy or not.

Aside: A repub friend of mine accused me of throwing out the racism label a little too freely a while back. We were having a discussion about Rush Limbaugh, and while Iwas completely right - that dude is racist (among a whole litany of offenses to pile in the racist column is the fact he was fired from Monday Night Football for making, ahem, racist comments and the lovely, lovely "Barack the Magic Negro" song he played over and over again on his radio show during the election cycle) - I was also self-aware enough to know that she was right. I could very easily throw out the word "racist" and have no qualms about labeling just about anyone I thought was a bit of an ass on the right. I didn't do that, of course, but I could have done that. Labeling a hate-monger or nut-job racist wasn't a big deal to me. Given my recent realization about my propensity to label, fairly or not, I didn't want to fall into the "cry wolf" category if I could help it.

All of this said, I'm not at all calling Rep Wilson a racist. I have no idea if he is or not. I hope he's not. But I've naively blundered my way into thinking the world is a happy, nicer place because Obama is president. It's not. And I'm beginning to think, slowly and haltingly, that race is playing more of a role in the diatribe than I'd ever cared to admit before.

What do you think? Are people calling it correctly?

Oh and I think Jezebel hit it right on when they gave Matt Lauer what for for asking if it's worse to be racist or to have the label of racist thrown around. Um, what do you think, Mr. Privileged White Boy? I'd say it might be worse to be abused than to be called an abuser. Let's ask Rihanna or Chris Brown who has it worse. Bad example. Let's ask Rihanna in 20 years once she's come to her senses who had it worse. (Don't get me started on that stupid Chris Brown song making the rounds because of some dumb wedding dance. People are idiots.)

Oh Serena...

2009-09-14T10:47:00.002-05:00

Disclaimer: I really like Serena Williams. I don't care that she acts like a big baby after she loses matches, although I fully admit it, and I like the way she calls the media out on their bullshit.

So then she goes and does something like this Saturday night.

In brief, she got called on a foot fault (questionable) to make it match point. She acted a fool and got penalized a point, which caused her to lose the match. Serena was also fined $10,000 (and $500 for breaking her raquet earlier in the match), and now the powers that be are contemplating suspending her and/or taking away all her prize winnings for the year and/or the U.S. Open. There are a few points to consider since it's rarely as simple as all that.

1. She probably would have lost. Clijsters was beating her fair and square. Given #1,

2. The whole incident took away Clijsters awesome play and win in the semis.

3. The questionable foot fault. I'm of the opinion that the call was dubious, possibly correct (Serena admits she might have foot faulted), possibly incorrect, and uncalled for. Now I'm not a tennis expert, by any stretch of the imagination. However I do watch a fair bit of it. I've been known to wake up at 4 a.m. to catch portions of the Australian Open. (I do love my Rafa and Gonzo, although Rafa's new sleeve look and haircut are making him physically less appealing.) I've never heard foot faults called as much as they were at the U.S. Open, specifically against the Williams sisters. I have no idea if the Williams sisters are fudging the line, if the linespeople are anti-Williams, if the U.S. Open is attempting to be uber-fair, or if it's some kind of coincidence. I do know that there is a large portion of tennis watchers/players who believe foot faults should never be called, unless insanely bad, and they especially should not be called when it puts the game at match point. I tend to fall in the later category. I don't think all foot faults should be ignored (they're faults just like anything else), but I do think the line judges should err on the side of caution on a match point foot fault when it can't be challenged (replay). In baseball the umps give the runner the benefit of the doubt on too close to call cases. Why can't tennis officials have the same policies?

Of course never let it be said I'm not a hypocrit, because if I hated Serena, I'd probably be espousing "rules are rules." But, to be fair, I've never been a stickler for rules unless it involves a) A Rod (hate that douchebag) or b) steroids. I don't even like the false start rule in track. Shitty rule, imo.

4. The important stuff - the yelling. She flipped her lid, said something that resembled shoving the fucking tennis ball down the linesperson's fucking throat. And apparently holding her raquet (as tennis players are want to do) helped to make the whole thing some kind of crazy threatening showdown. Or whatever. So I saw her yell. I saw her walk over the linesperson and let flow a tirade of which I could only imagine the likes. And I can't say I wouldn't be completely terrified if Serena came at me screaming expletives and raquet all a-wonk. I would be absolutely, insanely scared for my life. Of course I would be acting completely ridiculously and everyone I know would make fun of me for being a wuss. I guess while technically shoving a tennis ball down one's thoat could kill a person, it seems a stretch to accuse one of attempted murder on the subject, no?

5. I know the whole argument about Jimmy Conners and John McEnroe used to do it, so everyone should be able to do it is a shitty argument. But isn't it true a little bit? Of course they have to decide at some point that outrageous behavior on the court is ridiculous, but is it at all suspect that they choose Serena to do it? Could be coincidence but if so, it's quite the coincidence. Every sport has different rules, but I can't imagine a baseball player being suspended for pointing the bat at the ump while he called him a "walking penis" or some such nonsense. Or an "abortion" as John McEnroe so famously put it. I might be wrong but even so, it wouldn't be much of a suspension, maybe a game or two. Nothing spectacular. Talking about banning Serena from all future grand slams is all about the ridiculous.

6. People are pissed because Serena hasn't apologized. As a non-apologizer myself, I can feel her pain. Plus she said she acted badly. Personally I don't see how an admission of bad behavior is any less than an apology. To me it seems more sincere. What difference does apologizing make if she doesn't admit she acted badly? If she talks about acting poorly or lacking good judgment but without the words "sorry" or "apologize" in the sentence, I don't think that makes anything any less sincere. And technically she's been fined the max for her actions, so why should she apologize? Isn't it a bit like double taxation? Like the time my car got towed for parking in a valet only spot and then when I picked it up I had a ticket too? All that said, a well-worded and somewhat heartfelt group of words can go a long way to making people fell like it's okay to be okay with said person again. For example, Djokovich (hope I spelled that right) acted an ass a couple of years ago when he played Roddick and I thought he was a dick. This year he said he was a bit up his own ass (or some such language) then and shouldn't have taken things so seriously. That isn't an apology either, but somehow he made nice with all the tennis fans because of it. Should we all still hate him because he didn't use the correct words? Or should we not care because he didn't "threaten" Roddick?

Long way to say: I'm torn on the whole Serena thing. Part of me is mad at the line judge for being a stickler, all the while admitting she had every right to be so, enthralled by Serena for daring to propose shoving a fucking ball down an official's fucking throat, and the pacifist part of me is slightly appalled by the violent display she vented on the linesperson. I don't want the rules to be enforced on Serena when they haven't been on anyone else, but I also don't believe that you don't get to be tougher just because you weren't in the past (i.e. Conners/McEnroe arguments). I'm all aflutter with conflicting thoughts and I feel wronged for Serena. I can't decide if I'm biased (because I like Serena and she's a woman) or if there's really something wrong with this picture.

I can say I would like for all the sports writers to stop being so holier-than-thou. As if they've never lost their cool before (assuming they played a sport or were/are competitive in some way) and done/said things they really shouldn't have. I have a friend who threatened to cut her boyfriend's head off once. She really meant to be funny and mention something along the lines of "I'll cut you," but she was pissed and it came out all wrong. I doubt she really meant to threaten him with decapitation.

Le sigh.

Texas Residents Only...

2009-08-31T10:28:00.002-05:00

G and I were having some frozen yogurt Friday night in a nearby mega-community (you know the ones - oodles of work/live space but the work is all somewhat trendy and expensive and the live is corporate apartment housing used mainly by students?), when my eyes happened to stray to a nearby "European" waxing shop/spa/salon. An aside: I wonder what a European wax is? Is it significantly different than salons that feature the infamous Brazillian wax? But I digress. What attracted my attention was the huge FREE! sign on the window. I'm, at heart, cheap and relish words like "free" and "one time only," etc. As such, I was naturally drawn to the sign. And being a woman of the law, I read the fine print.

See for yourself:

So I'm just wondering... how many non-Texas residents in the major metropolitan of ATX come seeking a free introductory waxing offer? Do people in the great states of New Mexico, Oregon, Tennessee, etc. sit around discussing that free waxing deal in Texas, only to get here and realize, darn! it's for Texas residents only. Is a European wax so worth it and hard to come by that people coming in for free waxings from other states is a such a huge problem?

Given the exclusivity of the bargain, Texas only, I think I might have to give it a try. I mean, who am I to say no to an obviously fabulous deal like a free European waxing? And since I am a local, can I really justifiably say no?

I suggest all you recent Wisconsin converts hold on to your Texas licenses. You wouldn't want to be unable to get your free European wax, you know. Just a suggestion...

Titsapity...

2009-08-27T10:42:00.003-05:00

I've been traveling for work all week and while we were wasting our time waiting for people to not show up for scheduled meetings, my coworker A and I seriously killed some crossword puzzles. And by killed I mean cheated. But I digress. I'm doing an NYTimes one, she's doing some local paper one, and we switched halfway through. We're both asking each other questions, talking out loud, etc. (as you do), when I hear her say something along the lines of "titsapity is a bitch one." And then, "titsapity is a whore, right? Or a bore?" After hearing her say "titsapity" a few more times, I realized she was a) talking to me and b) I had absolutely no idea what words were coming out of her mouth. What follows is a brief breakdown of our conversation, as I remember it:

Me: Wha?
Her: Titsapity is a whore.
Me: Are you speaking english?
Her: Yes.
Me: Who's a whore?
Her: What's a bore?
Me: I'm confused.
Her: Titsapity. Is it she's a whore? Or she's a bore?
Me: I have no clue what words you are saying.
Her: T-I-S A P-I-T-Y
Me: Are you saying 'tis? (pronounced correctly as in tizz)
Her: Right. 'Tis. (pronounced incorrectly as in tiss)
Me: I have no idea if your tits are whorish or borish but the word you're trying to say is prounounced tizz, not tiss and not tits.
Her: I know it's not tits. Tiss a pity.
Me: No. Tizz.
Her. Right. So is it titsapity she's a whore or titsapity she's a bore?
Me: Good god.

So in the world of made up wrong words (i.e. hyperbowl instead of hyperbole and now titsapity instead of 'tis a pity), I'm officially adopting titsapity into my everyday vocabulary. How is it used you may ask? Like this:

Friend: That cute neighbor guy of yours plays in the gay tennis league.
Me: Damn. Titsapity, man, titsapity.

OMG...

2009-08-19T16:46:00.000-05:00

I might be a violent person. I just smashed my fist on a coworkers top shelf (bookshelf) and bowed it in two. Her candy jar went flying, her inboxes jumped around, and various other sundries (don't ask) were all askew. I tried to recreate the scene later and couldn't so much as budge the shelf, much less bow it. I can't even believe I am capable of such action. I blame it on pilates making me do all those push-ups. Damn the pilates. It was a moment of passion but mainly done for amusement's sake and it went all wrong! I was so traumatized by my actions that I had to eat half a bag of animal cookies to convince myself I wasn't a terribly violent person. Although I'm not sure eating the feet off camels one by one is exactly indicative of a peaceful nature...

I fucking hate roofers...

2009-08-17T16:59:00.002-05:00

Or roof repairers. Whatever. Call me an elitist snob but I Hate Them. It was supposed to take 1 or 2 days (at most). Day 2 was a Saturday. I realized Saturday afternoon that a mirror had fallen off my wall and a smoke detector is hanging by a precarious thread, threatening to hit me on the head in one of my mad dashes up the stairs to the restroom, which will result in one or both of the following: 1) a fall back down the stairs and/or 2) me pissing myself. Nice, eh? I also realized last night that my bed and nightstands have shifted noticeably and now stand at some kind of crazy 45 degree angle from the wall they were so equally balanced against.

Oh and at 6:22 a.m. this morning when I was so rudely jarred awake by the sound of Apocolypse Now (in the form of my roof caving in)? Yeah, I really hated them then.

I cannot express how much I wanted to remove the kazillion foot ladder (their only way up and down to the roof) this morning when I left for work. I wanted to kick it over and watch it land on the ground, all loud and long, and look up at the rooftop where the sweaty, noisy, asshole workers would be looking down at the crazy, hysterical-with-laughter girl below.

Screw you, roofer people.

What happens in Vegas...

2009-08-13T13:47:00.002-05:00

gets posted on my blog. Unfortunately I left before Bill had his bday party, but I suppose it couldn't be helped.

Here's a brief rundown of my stay in Sin City:

Thursday night - Arrived in Vegas and at G's insistence, ate at some horrid $5.99 for steak and eggs restaurant, and got caught in a crazy, sandstorm. I couldn't see through the smoke filled casinos and accidentally walked right into the swirling dirt. It was very surreal and felt too David Lynch for my tastes.

Friday Morning - Got up early and went horseback riding in Red Rock Canyon. (One would assume that since I'm from Texas I know how to ride a horse. That would be a bad assumption. I rode horses when I was little and with bigger, older people and the experiences only created vague enough memories to assure me I'd done it.) I rode the hugest horse evah! Her name was June (I assumed as in Cleaver but turns out it was short for Junebug). G's horse was tiny and he looked like he was riding a donkey next to me and my Clydesdale. Turns out getting oneself into a horse saddle is quite the complicated endeavor. As my horse's belly came to about my chin, I considered it quite the feat that I was able to put my left foot in the left foot saddle thing (what's that called?). With my foot raised almost above my head, I looked at the horse wrangler guy and asked him what to do next. He suggested, politely, that I grab the horse horn thing (on the saddle) and pull myself up and swing my right leg over the horse to put my right foot in the right foot saddle thing. Here's me - uh, wha? Did I mention my horse refused to stay still and I was left hopping around with my one leg that was still precariously on the ground while my other foot was in the foot saddle? It was very natural and not at all uncomfortable and terrifying. Luckily the horse wrangler had the vision to see the pure "what the fuck are you talking about horse boy?" look on my face and helped me up onto the giant horse. After mounting the beast, the rest was smooth sailing. Except for the shit and piss parts. Horses do that a lot. It's gross. My ass was sore pretty much the rest of Vegas, but the scenery was beautiful and I convinced my horse to trot a few times so I think it was worthwhile.

Friday Afternoon/Evening - Ate a place called the Burger Bar that had a truffle hamburger. It looked awesome but cost $60, so it was only for oohhing and aaahhing over. We spent the evening downtown (hurrah Golden Nugget!) and had a blast. That's definitely the fun place for gambling in Vegas. No one takes themselves too seriously and it's got all the cheap tables.

Saturday Morning - I hit the pool! Anyone who knows at all knows that I am not a pool person. I bemoan almost all sun exposure and slather the spf on at all possible times. But I chose a chair in the shade, it was cool enough that I kept my sweater on while I was there, and it was so damn peaceful that it made me think that maybe I've missed the mark on my anti-pool stance. The only thing that would have made it better was if I had a fruity beverage to drink, but I figured it was too early in the morning to start all that.

Saturday Afternoon - I met G at a buffet at the Paris. Apparently it's supposed to be good. G gave it a 7/10 but only because he couldn't eat all the crab and shrimp stuff (he's allergic). Otherwise he said it was a 9/10. Personally I've been to that buffet before and it's where S and I named our food babies "Mimosa." No explanation needed really. Then I left G and decided to participate at a poker! tournament! I was so excited - you have no idea. I paid my entry fee and was the 2nd person out at my table. In case you don't know poker, that's bad. In a huff, I decided to win my entry fee back at the slot machines. I lost more money. Boo. Then I decided to leave the swarthy gambling arenas and go see some high art. The Bellagio has a fine art museum and the exhibit was a small but awesome Lichtenstein, Warhol and Friends soiree. It helped to soothe the savage beast within (I hate losing - even at gambling), and I spent the rest of the afternoon softly mewing over the beauties of modern art. Okay, that's not true at all. Modern art makes me laugh (at not with the art and artists) and I actually spent the afternoon feeling morally superior to the idiots who make the audio guide (or written guides for that matter) to modern art exhibits.

Saturday Evening - Saw Ka!, a Cirque de Soleil show and it was freaking awesome. Spent the rest of the evening at some bar, lost G for about half an hour, found G, and found some cage fighters. Not at the same time. Fun evening.

Sunday Day - slept late. Ate at Serendipity by myself with my lovely, lovely book (I'm reading The Time Traveler's Wife for the 2nd time and it's way better on the 2nd read) and had tomato soup with goldfish crackers! I love Serendipity. I also attempted a piece of cheesecake later on in the day (what? I was on vacation), and the piece that came to my table was bigger than my head. I read the menu a little closer and read that it was suitable for 2 people, but I'm guessing more like 6. I made such a small dent in it that the server thought I was unhappy with it. To prove I wasn't, I pointed out how I'd eaten all the whipped cream off the top of the cheesecake, which I guess, to his credit, wasn't exactly evidence of the deliciousness of the cheesecake itself but it was just too damn big! Who can eat that much cheesecake? In between the two Serendipity visits, I sat down at a poker table in another casino. I decided to try my hand at a cash game this time instead of a tournament. It worked out much better and I walked away after a couple of hours even, which was a nice change from my last attempt the day before. I visited the Forum Shops and decided I was way too spirtually wealthy to need any of that vain, commercial crap. (Read: I wanted to save my money for flitting away at the casinos in the evening instead since it was my last night.)

Sunday Night - Saw Penn & Teller, got my tix autographed, and took my picture with both of them. They rocked. They were hilarious and smart. What more can you ask for? We were leaving Vegas at 6:30 a.m., so we decided to spend the entire night out and about. G went to the stuff he liked and once again, I decided to give poker another shot. It was quite the good decision, if I do say so myself. I made a table full of big, strong men weep into their dwindling pile of chips. I bought in at the minimum buy-in, because above all else, I'm superbly cheap, and I nursed my tiny stack of chips until my moment came. Once I'd doubled up, I played a little looser and all those boys who told me to stick by them, that they would help me? walked away empty-handed when I took all their money. And did I mention there was a professional player at the table? I won't say his name (mainly because I don't remember it and don't feel like looking him up although I could 'cause he's on tv and shit), but I took half his stack as well. And yes, it felt good. Eat that, male-dominated semi-sport. And I only stopped short from wiping the whole table clean because I had to leave for the airport. I also got in quite the, um, "debate" over how amazing (or in their cases how unamazing) T.O. is, but I feel I've called it on this one. We'll see, poker boys, we'll see.

Monday Morning/Afternoon/Night - got lost in a haze of crazy dreams and sleep-addled wanderings as I made my way back to the ATX.

So here you have it. My first post back is a grand diatribe on the ins and outs of a Vegas trip that only I'm interested in. I hope all you encouragers and well-wishers are happy.

Okay, okay.

2009-08-05T22:15:00.001-05:00

I'm kind of an ass, I know. I'm going to Vegas for the weekend but come next week, I'll be back on a more regular basis. Peer pressure is a bitch. Oh yeah, one more thing: thanks, I think...

Well shit...

2009-05-01T12:19:00.001-05:00

I always thought I was lucky to live in Texas - at least from a natural disaster perspective. Sure we have earthquakes but not the kind that will take us off into the sea. And yes, there are tornados, but we're no Kansas, right? When the poles switch places, the polar icecaps melt, or whatever happens when it gets all freezy up north, Texas gets to be a modern day Minnesota - cold but still liveable. The terrorists may want to take out symbolic sites, but unless they've got a fondness for the Alamo, Texas ain't high on their list.

But now I go and read that in the worst case pig flu scenario, Texas comes up short. So shit. I can avoid random, movie-making natural disasters, but the black plague? No such luck. But don't worry. I'm not hysterical or anything. I like to leave that kind of MASS PANIC to the parents of 3rd graders and CNN. I mean, really. I listen to sound words of advice, not fear-mongering. It's a good thing we have our national leaders here to talk some sense into me, isn't that right, Mr. Biden?

RIP Dorothy, Maude, Bea...

2009-04-28T10:10:00.002-05:00

I learned so much about Bea Arthur when I read her obit in the NYTimes on Sunday. I didn't know she died until then. I was in DC over the weekend and missed any important news until I picked up a copy of the paper Sunday evening in the airport. (PSA - buy papers!) I was surprised - not about her death although that was sad but about all the interesting facts within. Did you know that Bea didn't own up to any one age? No one really knows how old she is. I might start adopting that philosophy. The NYTimes said she was probably around 86 though.

I've seen a ton of stuff about her on the internet, some of which I'll post links to. But I think my favorite Bea Arthur moment, aside from her Golden Girls years (did you know I'm always a Dorothy in GG quizzes?), is the time she helped roast Pamela Anderson and read aloud from Pam's book about the joys/intriques of anal sex. It's pretty much the funniest thing I've ever heard involving Pam Anderson, which really says a lot.

My list of web-related/tv-related Bea activities and my own, personal favorite Bea moments:

1. WE is planning a 2 night homage to Dorothy Zbornak last night and Thursday night. If you missed last night, check it out (or DVR it) on Thursday.

2. USA Today did a thing about her. And the LATimes did a fairly decent obit as well.

3. Maude had an abortion. Did you know? She was in her 40s, married, and decided she was too old to have a baby. So she did it. Pretty shocking by today's tv standards. Of course Maude was a spin-off of All in the Family, so what can you expect? (See the Jezebel piece for the video on it.)

4. This is the fabulous NYTimes obit I read about her (along with a picture slideshow). It's really good.

5. Jezebel has a top 5 Bea Arthur moment piece that includes two of my favorites (the Pam Anderson bit and a song and dance bit from early on, which admittedly I only saw for the first time in the last couple of years).

6. Bea singing in a Star Wars Holiday special. Ha! Freaking hilarious.

7. And finally one of my favorite, non-zinger Dorothy moments on Golden Girls:

Flowers are blooming it seems...

2009-04-21T13:27:00.001-05:00

I am a
Nigella

What Flower
Are You?

"Many people think you are just a little bit odd, but you consider yourself just a little eccentric. You find new experiences exciting and fulfilling."

I don't even know what kind of flower this is. And I'm probably never going to be referred to as a flower by anyone, ever. I'm not exactly fond of things that manage to grow on their own. Plants freak my shit out. I wish I were kidding.

I'd shake his hand...

2009-04-21T12:59:00.001-05:00

I, a citizen of Austin, Texas, U.S. of A, would shake Hugo Chavez's hand if he offered it to me. I guess I'm a pinko commie, no? Well it's not the first time I've been called that. Just ask my favorite right-wing, nutjob, Doug.

On a different note, tobacco infused tequila is my new favorite alcohol. Try it. It will blow your mind. (And I hate smokers and smoking, so it's not that kind of thing.)

Speaking of the Dixie Chicks...

2009-04-17T11:17:00.001-05:00

I'm incredibly embarassed to be associated with the crap that our Governor Head of Hair is spewing right now. Texas could secede? Is he fucking insane?

I'm quoting a local Austin paper, which generally sucks ass so don't read it but, "According to The Associated Press, Perry suggested in response to a reporter's question that Texans might at some point get so fed up with Democratic-led actions in Washington that they would want to secede."

I did NOT vote for that asshat. I heard him speak at a college graduation last year and I'm certain he was a) drunk, b) unprepared to give a speech, and c) stupid. I canNOT believe anyone would bother to quote anything he has to say.

Geez. What a loser. Oh and I heard he really enjoys the teabagging. *snicker*

Apparently my mother is way cooler than me...

2009-04-14T14:24:00.000-05:00

She's going on a cruise of castles in Amsterdam and Germany. Or some such ridiculousness. And although I abhor cruises, I'm so jealous I can't see straight. I had to help her with cocktail attire (for the dinners), for god's sake! Plus she's already been to Amsterdam once. Isn't that enough? (An aside: I was scarred beyond recognition from that first trip to Amsterdam. Imagine your mother standing next to a 12 foot tall penis at the sex musuem and you'll only begin to imagine what I'm talking about.)

Karmically speaking, I realize she's suffered by marrying a baseball-loving, cigar smoker, but come on! And I realize her first son must be a huge disappointment due to his college football, political, and religious affiliations, but really she should have just nipped all that shit in the bud early on, right?

Okay fine. I'm not saying she doesn't deserve to go. I'm just saying I deserve it too. And possibly more than her, because.... well, because I say so.

Jealousy does not bring out my best colors.

I hate...

2009-04-08T13:23:00.002-05:00

Slow internet. When I'm trying to read about American Idol on TWOP, I do NOT like having to wait for a page to load. It's a recap of a stupid reality show. It should not take more than 5 seconds for me to be done with their shit.

I'd also like some chocolate as soon as possible. The two are not related.

And then something happened...

2009-04-03T15:52:00.003-05:00

I've been worrying for a few days that nothing exciting or post-worthy has been happening to me. Although most things I write about aren't exactly happening to me, they're things I care enough to form an opinion about, which, come to think of it, is not really saying much. But as soon as I decided I was washed up and work was sucking the life out of me (and it is), something slightly entertaining and slightly destructive happened.

Two factors combined yesterday to bring me to this time time and place. 1) My pilates instructor talked about a cool movie room at the gym she goes to a few miles north of me. She said they play the same movie all day long, over and over, and it makes the minutes fly by. My interest was piqued (I had to look that word up to make sure it wasn't really peaked). 2) My coworker/friend got in a car accident yesterday and due to recent hail storms, had to have a ride to a car rental place that was convienently a few miles north of me. So of course I decide to try out this crazy movie room gym thing I'd heard about. (Maybe other gyms have cardio cinemas and these aren't actually weird and new but to me? Insanity.)

I drug my coworker/friend to the gym with me - she kinda had to since I was giving her a ride and all - and we walked into the gym and stood outside the "cardio cinema." The sign next to the door said 7 Pounds was playing. I've been wanting to see at least a little of that movie, because the boy says it's really interesting (although I don't trust his movie judgment at. all.). We went in and were immediately consumed by darkness. It was really dark! I thought I would trip over people and/or equipment, so I stood like an idiot for a few minutes trying to figure out exactly what the set up was in the room. We found two treadmills together in the front and hopped on. It took a little less than 2 minutes before I realized there was a reason the treadmills at the front of the room (next to the giant, movie-sized screen) were empty. I nearly fell twice (or so I thought nearly fell, but I'll get to what nearly falling looks like in a minute) trying to look at the screen and run in a straight line, which I've decided is basically impossible.

We moved to treadmills in the middle of the room after a couple of minutes. Actually the coworker/friend left the entire cardio cinema after she ran a few minutes because she couldn't handle the intensity of the big screen, the dark room, and the blinking red lights of the machines, which were pretty much the only indicators of any kind of depth perception. Oh yeah! (in my best Peggy Hill)

I, on the other hand, really enjoyed the treadmill and the dark room. I vowed not to look at my time until the current scene was over. Turns out the scene I was watching was never over. 7 Pounds is a looong and boring movie. Good thing I caught the end. I had a sweater draped over the front of the treadmill, so a) I could cover my time with it (it's a mental thing) and b) it wouldn't sit on the dirty floor because I care about my sweater, you see? About 10 minutes into running, my sweater fell of the treadmill and traversed the length of the treadmill onto the ground behind me. I looked back to watch it land and turned back to running. I figured it would stay there and I would pick it up once I was done. A couple of seconds later the belt on the treadmills lurched and practically stopped. You know that almost falling I talked about earlier? That was nothing. This almost falling was much more palpable. Although I didn't technically bust it, I did flail supremely well and I yelled/screamed so loud that I drew the entire (full) room's attention away from a Will Smith sex scene to me.

The treadmill then went on its merry way, only at a slightly slower pace. I stupidly thought it was a really sensitive machine and it must have felt my sweater fall on it and fall off on the ground. I tried, repeatedly, to up the speed back to a workable pace and when that failed, I looked back to see if my sweater was somehow the culprit. Of course it was gone from behind the treadmill. I sighed, stopped my machine, and knelt down like a fool at the foot of the treadmill. Of course my sweater had somehow got stuck up in the rolling belt. Of course it got so stuck that I couldn't pull it out. I did hear some ripping when I tried though. One good thing about the darkness of the cardio cinema? No one can tell the exact idiot you're making of yourself. They have some sense of it but not an entire grasp of it.

I went to the front and asked for help. A really hot, gym guy came to help me and declared my sweater stuck. You don't say? He went for help from another really hot, gym guy ("the muscle" according to the first hot, gym guy), and they proceeded to laugh at me, stare in wonder at the predicament, laugh some more, and then use absurdly stupid boy logic to get the sweater out (i.e. pulling). The first guy told me, apologetically, that the sweater probably would not come out in the same condition it when in. As I'd already accepted that portion of future events, as any relatively cognizant person would, I told him not to worry about it. Between the two of them and many grunts they finally managed to pull the pretty, pink sweater from underneath the treadmill belt. The first hot guy fell backwards into an elliptical machine and almost made that person fall off, which sort of made the whole experience worth it for me (seeing one of those hot gym guys look like an uncoordinated ass at the gym? priceless), and held up a tattered, holey, ripped pink sweater that somewhat resembled the one I'd been wearing earlier. The second guy handed me a button he'd managed to retrieve - real funny - and they ambled off, still laughing.

And all I could think as I attempted to re-find my running groove (never happened) was that finally I had something to write about.

I also realize that if I wrote more often, I could have condensed that into a much funnier, briefer post but since I haven't written in a week, I figured blogspot could handle it.

In honor of Rana...

2009-03-25T16:05:00.003-05:00

I've decided to discuss my last few days, which have been... oddly satisfying and disconcerting, all in one.

Thursday - work until I feel the need to go to bed for the night. A) that's late and B) that's too late to be working. I had to skip a lovely outing I'd looked forward to all week because of all the work. Boo to work.

Friday - get up much earlier than usual and go back to work. Work until I feel the need to eat dinner. The bf beats me to my house for our usual weekend ritual of yummy Indian food. (This is a huge shocker, because he's almost always the one with the later time schedule, forcing me to wait on his sorry ass.) After a lovely glass of wine and like two bites of dinner (not hungry after all the work, I guess?), we head over to the Chandi's and drink more wine. It was lovely until one part of the Chandi decided to go to bed early to be up for her early morning run (hmph - marathoners are really, really annoying). Sorry B but it's true!

Saturday - um... was there a Saturday? I have no memory of it.

Sunday - drove over to SJM's old house for the last time *sigh* and managed to steal the female half of the duo for a lovely trip to Target. As payback, I helped unpack at the new house and realized that there is such a thing as too much vinegar.

Monday - Worked so frantically I forgot to eat food. If you know me at all, you know that is incredibly unlikely. Got out THE WORK PRODUCT of the century about 4:45 Monday afternoon. Had wishes and needs crushed by big boss soon thereafter. Still proud of THE WORK PRODUCT of the century though.

Tuesday - Got to work absurdly early to attend hearing related to THE WORK PRODUCT of the century. Hearing supposed to be done by lunch, ends up going until 4 where, wishes and needs reinvigorated when THE WORK PRODUCT of the century gets mentioned and although I couldn't see the other side, I'm fairly certain heads snapped and eyes agogged. Oh and the hearing went exactly the way our side wanted it to. Bad guys defeated! Went back to work and stayed long enough to hear that THE WORK PRODUCT of the century is officially THE WORK PRODUCT of the century. It's not just in my head. And the guy in our other office who doesn't even know your name if you don't have cocknballs? Yeah, he called THE WORK PRODUCT of the century aggressive. In a good way. While it was cool, it was weird, because what do I care what he thinks? Conundrum. Oh yeah, drank wine and have carpet picnic with the girls. Missed Barack and fell asleep before I could finish hearing what Keith O. thought about it. Sad.

Wednesday (today) - Am confused that it's not Thursday all day. Receive accolades in the form of an ALL CAPS! email, a few phone calls, and a news article that gets it all wrong for THE WORK PRODUCT of the year. Decide to cut the workload considerably post 4 o'clock, hence the current post.

It's been a good few days and oh my god do I need a nap. And quite possibly a trophy.

They say you're Irish...

2009-03-17T14:18:00.002-05:00

nah nah nah nah nah nah. Well I'm Irish too. nah nah nah nah nah nah.

Or at least that's what they tell me. So I'm here, wearing green, and I've seriously contemplated the outcomes of pinching strangers in the elevator who are not. (I've decided to avoid the battery and since I'm officially admitting my contemplation, the assault as well.) My family insists the only thing they are, aside from poor, country folk, is Irish. I tend to believe this because of the following:

1. I have blonde hair.
2. I have blue eyes.
3. I'm afraid of snakes (although technically this comes from the non-Irish side but whatev).
4. Almost every man in my family has a Riley or Odais somewhere in their name.
5. I spent the majority of my early childhood lying in the mounds of clovers in my front yard looking for a four-leafed clover. Or is it four leaf clover? I'm unsure.
6. My dad's facial hair comes in red, which is why he only ever grew a beard when he was in Vietnam and shaves regularly since then (or so he says).
7. I'm still fairly certain the tiny footprints I used to see in my old bathroom were those of a leprechaun.
8. I look good in green.
9. Rainbow Brite was my favorite cartoon/book character as a child. (It's a rainbow, pot-at-the-end thing.)
10. I've seen Gone With the Wind at least a dozen times, intermission and all (and if you don't know why this is Irish, shame on you).
11. The only tattoo I've ever wanted to get was a green clover. I'm never going to get that tattoo, so don't worry, but it's the only thing I'd consider putting permanently on my body.
12. The fat in my ass is shaped in large part by potato products. And assorted other white foods.
13. My senior thesis in college was written on the role of mermaids in the folklore (well only folklore to us) of 13th century, Irish popular culture. I like to think of it more as a feminist take on the mean, mean Irish men (or any men of the era), but it's primary focus was Irish folklore. (Small aside: my love of the name Lorelai comes from the mermaid stories I read then not Gilmore Girls, although I'd be perfectly happy to be aptly compared to Lorelai Gilmore.)
14. I like Whiskey. Mainly U.S. whiskey but whiskey nonetheless.
and finally
15. I do not drink green beer.

And in case you can't tell, I have no empirical reason to believe I'm Irish. It's all made up bullshit. BUT. I've always been disappointed by my lack of ethnicity, so I embrace all the green good luck I can wrap my colloquial brain around.

In honor of St. Patrick's day, here's my made up Irish prayer, just for you:

May your days be spent floating on mounds of green clover;

May you always get to be Rainbow Brite for Halloween;

May your whiskey go down smoothly;

And may your own, personal St. Patrick chase away all the snakes.

Flaming Lips Awesomeness...

2009-03-12T11:15:00.002-05:00

Saw this on PopCandy. It might be the coolest thing I've ever seen... this month. I'm seriously crushing on FL right now.

Flaming Lips covering Madonna's Borderline. Could there be anything better in life?

Skydiving...

2009-03-11T16:46:00.002-05:00

Well I did it. I wanted to wait until I had video to post, but I guess that's not happening anytime soon - thanks bf! I'll try to post again once it becomes somehow accessible to me and not on someone's weird, little recording tape that I haven't seen since the 1990s. But apparently it's quality. Whatever.

Turns out the skydiving got canceled and then rescheduled. I got all psyched up for Saturday and then it was too gusty. But Sunday? Perfect day.

Let me set the scene: I finally went to sleep early Sunday morning (after pitching a pitiful fit to the bf about having to get up early the next day and insisting on going to bedorshire). Of course I couldn't sleep because I kept hearing the wind knock against the windows and wondering if the whole thing was going to be called off - yet again. Part of me hoped it would, because I was crazy tired but the better part of me was hoping Texas weather would do me proud. I woke up at 8:30 (see? early!) and called my co-skydiver in crime. She called back shortly and told me we were on. Of course I still had a little time to snooze if I wanted but I was way to excited/antsy.

I went to the living room and found a Golden Girls marathon on the Hallmark Channel (aside: GG moved from Lifetime to Hallmark! Who knew?) and I was pretty certain it was a good omen. After I'd finally coaxed the bf out of the house, we made our way to the launch pad. I insisted on having a bagel before I fell out of a plane and after about 3 stops - bagels are hard to find! - I was officially on my way.

In the car ride there - the place was a good 30-40 minutes away - the bf was amazed AMAZED! at how cool, calm, and collected I was. I told him there was nothing to mentally prepare for, so really what was there to think about at this point? He thought there was definitely a mental preparation aspect to the whole thing, but after discussing with my co-jumper, also a lawyer, we decided it must be our profession that keeps us from getting nervous at attempts at physical endeavors. Put me in a courtroom and I'll be reciting this or that, anticipating arguments, going over easy objections, etc. in my head the entire morning before. But skydiving? Chatter and fun music is all I had to think about.

Blah, blah, blah, 1 orange jumpsuit later and we're up in the plane. I looked like a convict but at least I was visible... I guess. My instructor woman! asked me if I had any questions - as we're climbing up to 10,000 feet of course - and I just wanted to know what happened if she died on my back before she pulled the cord thing. (I swear I'd just seen something on yahoo news or similar about that.) Luckily the chute had a gadget that automatically triggered the parachute if we reached a certain altitude.

As I looked out the window on the way up, I was completely calm. I realized there wasn't one butterfly in my stomach, which was nice because I can't say I feel that way on any normal day, much less a day when I'm about to potentially plummet to my death. We scooted, quite literally, up to the plane door and as we waddled our way forward I had a momentary panic moment (much like I do when I stand on a diving board or when I'm tripping over my shoes at the top of my staircase at home, or ya know, the crack on the sidewalk outside work, whatevs) that I was about to fall. Luckily I didn't have much time for speculation and before I could think to put my hands in front of me to catch myself, I was out. And flying! And all of a sudden realizing I couldn't breathe. Nope, I wasn't flying - I was very quickly suffocating to death. My brain was telling my mouth that of course I could breathe; I was surrounded by air; there was nothing I could do but breathe. But of course my illogical lack of oxygen receiving lungs took over and I panted horribly. Luckily the free fall portion was over relatively quickly. It wasn't a scary experience by any stretch but more of an uncomfortable feeling that passed as soon as the wind stopped hitting me in the face so hard.

And then IT happened. The parachute opened and after the initial lurch and feeling of gravity, I experienced one of the most peaceful, calm, and relaxing few minutes of my entire life. It was pretty remarkable.

I did worry briefly when I saw my friend spiraling crazily downward but apparently that's what we were all doing and it only looked scary from above (so said my tandem jump instructor). There was one weird thing though. As we were getting closer to the ground, my instructor was telling me how to put my feet for landing, etc. I responded "okay" after every instruction she gave. Apparently this caused her some amount of anxiety because she said, "you keep saying 'okay' but are you really okay?" Um, is there some kind of conversation I should be having when I falling toward the earth? Is there a Miss Manners on this subject that I don't know about? What should I have been saying? Not okay? Commenting on last week's episode of Lost? Strange.

We landed on our feet, just like I'd imagine you'd land if you could really fly, about 6 feet away from the guy who unhooked us, so I'm guessing my instructor was pretty accurate. I kept wanting the parachute to collapse all around me so I could come climbing out from underneath it like they do on cartoons but they were too professional for all that.

Things I learned:

1) Wear your hair back and don't let one, single strand get loose. I had quite a few strays and that shit was impossible to brush for hours!

2) Bring your own gloves. I don't know of finger diseases, necessarily, but if there are some, you'd get them sharing general skydiving gloves with all the other scrubby folks who run through that place.

3) Skydiving is the best way ever to have a peaceful day. I had the most relaxing day that I've probably ever had - or at least had in the last few years. I just kept thinking, as I was sitting on the couch reading, "I should really start all my days off like this."

4) If you're an adrenaline junkie, don't skydive. It's not all that adrenaline-enducing. I didn't do it for that purpose, but I was a tad bit surprised I wasn't more hyped up after it was all said and done.

5) Don't talk very much to your instructor. Those fools will do everything in their power to freak your shit out. I didn't encounter it so much with my instructor, but I could see it in others and feel it bubbling just underneath the surface of mine.

6) Always go skydiving (as in go to the location) with someone who won't do it. It really helps with the superiority complex you're bound to have after you're done.

Cartoon figures abound...

2009-02-25T09:41:00.003-06:00

I missed King of the Hill last night. Boo. It's a good thing I didn't miss my completely unrealistic, animated character fix though, because I did get to see this goober:

I haven't seen anyone mention it yet but why the hell does he have to talk like that? I felt like I was back in my 9th grade geometry class when the teacher used to put apples with our names on them around the room for good grades.

I also heard Jindal speak on one of the morning news shows over the weekend and he was ridiculous. I hate to even dedicate 5 minutes of my time to discussing him but the fact that he's the Republican party's Obama is beyond laughable. Obama is post-racial. Accept it.

And for your reading pleasure, just in case you wanted to learn what a nutjob Jindal really is and let me just preface this with two words: exorcism and sex. Oh yeah.

FYI, the count down begins. I have approximately 74 hours left before I plummet to the ground in a self-induced mania. Wish me luck!

Is there such a thing as a love scrooge?

2009-02-13T09:54:00.003-06:00

God how I hate Valentine's Day. Even if it's just the day before. One more time: Valentine's Day sucks balls. And not in a good way.

Tunde Adebimpe is a funny name...

2009-02-11T15:26:00.006-06:00

When I saw Rachel's Getting Married, I had no idea that this guy (who I secretly thought perhaps had some kind of mental disability):

Was one of these guys:

And when I was busy making a stand against corporate America by, ahem, "downloading" TV on the Radio, I had no clue Tunde Adebimpe (same guy in both pics) was an actor as well. Supposedly he's a good actor but to be honest, it's really hard to tell on Rachel's Getting Married. He doesn't really do all that much but look happy, do dishes really quickly, and hide when the yelling starts. Not exactly what his degree at NYU's film school prepared him for, I'm sure.

But then last night, when TV on the Radio was on the Colbert Report, I felt kinda bad when Colbert asked them if they were just in it for the money and they said something akin to: at this point, yes. So I guess I'm off to amazon (still cheaper than iTunes) to *sigh* buy some goddamned music.

Oh and I've recently rediscovered Joan of Arcadia. That shit rocks. And Amber Tamblyn, minus the poetry because I just don't dig poetry, is awesome. She should do more movies or a tv show or something. Maybe she could join Gossip Girl and reunite with Blake Lively? I'd like something more substantial though... Maybe she can take Izzie's place on Grey's Anatomy? But only if GA gets some good writing again. I'm desperate for a new Gilmore Girls or Veronica Mars. She should do something like that. Where is her agent and why doesn't s/he read this blog?

On the art of skydiving...

2009-02-05T16:12:00.002-06:00

In a few short weeks, this will be me:

Except I'll be diving in tandem and hopefully won't be upside down. And I'll be much cooler, of course.

Or if my mom is right, this could be me:

Except a girl and hopefully not a cartoon.

But if I do get smartly turned into a cartoon, I'm coming back as this:

or more likely this:

So the point is, I'm going skydiving. I've decided not to bother being scared until the actual day. Until then I'm just going to enjoy the idea of doing something most people are way to chickenshit to try. Except Bush Sr. He's not too chicken shit to try it - multiple times. I wonder if it's a death wish to get away from Barbara?

So weddings...

2009-02-02T16:11:00.003-06:00

Love 'em. (Given I like the couple getting married, of course.) I think they're fun and I like the planning phases. Wedding gowns? Beautiful. Love the shopping-for-them-part and the walking-down-the-aisle-in-them-part.

Here's the rub: I have no interest in getting married anytime soon (if ever). I also could never, in a million years, wear a wedding dress in any popular shape and/or form. Except for the party part, I could never tolerate the actual act of getting married. I do think tiaras and registries are cool though (if I was the one getting the gifts). I wish I could wear a tiara for other occasions. And register for like my birthday or something. That would be very worthwhile.

Here's my point: I think it's only possible to be really, truly happy for another person when the thing that they're getting/achieving is nothing you'd ever want in a million years. Or possibly if it's something you already have or already achieved. If you disagree, leave examples. Otherwise I won't believe you.

Random Office Place Fears...

2009-01-30T13:32:00.002-06:00

#1. Being the only person in a smelly bathroom and having other people come in, thinking it was you who made said bathroom smelly.

#2. Scarfing down soup right before a big meeting (because you're such a busy, worker bee) and having something in your teeth the entire meeting.

#3. Spilling your giant bottle of water/cup of coffee/can of diet soda all over original documents.

#4. Having your doctor's nurse call you back while your office is full of people.

#5. Attempting to move the wires to a computer in front of a big inter-office meeting (in a skirt) and falling on your face in the process.

#6. Spilling part of your South Beach peanut butter protein bar on your office chair, attempting to mop it up with lots of water and napkins, and leaving a big, wet spot on your chair that never, ever dries making it look like you peed your chair.

#7. This one needs a preamble: So let's say you dressed quickly in the morning and only as you were getting ready to leave did you notice that the lining for your skirt and/or dress was inching out under your hem (damn shrinkage). You decide to pin up the portion of the lining that's sticking out only you can't find any pins. Starting to panic, because you're already late, you notice a stack of fake, trashy clip-on earrings from a recent Halloween costume. Now on the fear - you are presenting a very important issue in front of a boss you really want to impress and when you stand up, random earring bits start to fall from under your dress.

#8. Scratching your nose when someone walks by your office and looks in mistaking your scratch for a pick.

#9. Accidentally calling your boss a douchebag. To his face.

#10. That someone might actually ask you about all the fancy books you put on your bookshelf but have never really read.

Absolutely none of these happened to me.

6 Random things about me...

2009-01-28T15:22:00.002-06:00

1. I absolutely CANNOT deal with talking about normal, bodily functions. Although I like to think I hide it well, I get as embarassed as the time I heard my mom talking about sex with my dad. I also think one should whisper when discussing such things so one will not be overheard.

2. Making lists and parenthetical references are seriously some of my best/worst writing habits. Take your pick. (FYI, I used the word seriously waay before Grey's Anatomy became popular.)

3. I am afraid to put my blog on my facebook page for fear that one of my facebook friends (or people I used to know 10+ years ago) or family members might see it and realize I'd been writing about them every now and again. Oops. Must compartmentalize.

4. I never use up anything, ever. I always throw it away when it's almost completely empty because I can't wait to open the new thing (i.e. lotions, shampoo, hair products, etc.).

5. I got in another person's argument over the validity of Kanye West at a New Year's Eve party and I cannot. let. it. go.

6. I can tell you the number of stairs in almost any building I frequent. My house? 14. The boy's apartment? 44 (actually it's 43 but I add a fake 44th step because you can't have an odd number of steps or the building will fall down). Parking garage at work? 20 (technically 21 if you count the first step/landing thing but I don't count it because, again, odd numbered stairs make the building come crumbling down). Stairwell at work? 11 for each staircase and there are 2 staircases per flight, so 22.

I'm tagging Blondie at PinkHondaCivic and LK at Pieces on the Ground. My tagger was blooming wildflowers.

The guidelines: Link to your tagger, share 6 random things about yourself, tag a few others (be sure to tell them). And of course, post the rules.

He's still ahead...

2009-01-27T22:27:00.003-06:00

I give Obama a score of 101. (I'm giving him 1 extra point based on pure, unadulterated love.)

As of last Tuesday he had a +1 score for reasons discussed above. A recap (in no particular order and definitely not exhaustive) of points gained and lost in one week.

Gain - first dance with Michelle. Beyonce expressed real emotion and so did I. I was tempted to make this a loss, because it was too pathetic that Beyonce moved me but that's not really Obama's fault... I guess.

102

Gain - Mexico City Gag Rule Repealed (Washington Post article). I've been on about this issue since law school although I cared more about the loss of funding the UN Population Fund. But a gain nonetheless.

103

Loss - overuse of the phrase "an abundance of caution" by White House Press Secretary Robert Gibbs. I happened to be home sick when his first press conference aired. The stupid pc word choice has already made its way into popular vernacular and I don't like it. If you're going to be in front of the press, Mr. Gibbs, learn new ways to say the same, old thing.

102

Gain - closing Gitmo.

103

Loss - taking a year to do it.

102

Gain - making sure Citigroup sent that goddamned jet back. He gets 2 points for this one, because he was just so cool about it.

104

Loss - caving to the conservatives re: birth control in his kazillion dollar relief package (or stimulus, whatever). This pisses me right the hell off. I'd take away 3 points for this but for the fact that both he and Pelosi said the legislation will be reintroduced at a later date. It ticks me off so much when I hear conservatives manipulate an issue like this. All the provision did was allow states to provide contraceptive services to poor women without a huge red tape hullabaloo. (States can already do this but it requires lots of paperwork.) Does he even need Republican support for his stimulus package? He can get it passed easily enough and if those idiot Repubs (not all but some) are going to block an entire package because of misstated socioeconomic bigotry, so be it. Let them be the asses of this story. As is Obama (and Pelosi) get their first serious black marks.

Final Tally: 102

So he's still ahead by 2 points, but I'm ending on a disappointing note. I felt really strongly about the Citigroup jet thing too, so I'll have to try and not let one weak moment cloud my judgment. Especially if he gets the legislation passed at a later date. He'll earn back those points then.

Oh shit this is funny...

2009-01-26T16:14:00.003-06:00

I stole this from Pop Candy and she stole it from... I forget who but damn I laughed a lot.

Star Wars: Retold (by someone who hasn't seen it) from Joe Nicolosi on Vimeo.

I can only hear out of one ear...

2009-01-26T10:31:00.003-06:00

and apparently that's normal when sickness invades the body. I knew last week was too good to be true. I paid for all my bad juju wishing (on the Bush) by contracting the mack daddy of all colds. Lucky me. Oh well. At least I got to eat ice cream. I mean, if you have a ravaged throat, what else are you supposed to eat, right? I don't know what Samosas are (other than that they're Girl Scout cookies), but this ice cream is the best evah! We won't talk about all the other things one resorts to when bored but unable to leave one's domain...

But I did manage to finish Season 2 of The Tudors. I cried at the end, which made my already swollen and puffy face even more swollen and puffy. The woman who played Queen Anne is so pretty. I hated to see her pretty head cut off. Damn that King Henry. As an aside, I can never say "King Henry" out loud without singing his pretty, little diddy "Henry the VIII, I am, I am..." Oh and apparently on Who The Tudor Are You? I'm a Noble. I can live with that. For another 21 years, it seems. I didn't ask the stupid quiz to predict my death. Damn them. Oh and can we say beautiful people? I'm not sure who I like more...

Okay a compromise: She's prettier but he's hotter. Unless he's prettier. I'm unsure again.

I also watched the first two parts of the John Adams mini-series, mastered bit torrent downloading (finally!), discovered two new cds, lusted after Fernando Gonzalez and Rafa Nadal (they grow on you at 4:30 in the morning when the Australian Open is at its peak), did 7 loads of laundry, had an official taste test to finally decide if aged gouda or gruyere is the better cheese (gruyere wins), and decided where I'll put my new shoe rack when the beautiful new Orla Keily stuff arrives at Target.

For your viewing pleasure:

Gonzo

and Rafa:

Signed, Sealed, Delivered, He's Ours...

2009-01-20T22:12:00.002-06:00

And it's official! It's a good day. I'm officially NOT disgruntled - for once.

Some random thoughts:

1. I think I saw Starr Jones bragging on Fox News about being in the "orange" section to see Obama get sworn in. I have no clue if that's good or bad, but I'm guessing if she made a point to say it, it must be good. Lame. (Secretly jealous though.)

2. Alicia Keys wore a short dress to a very obviously black tie, possibly white tie affair. It's an inaugural ball, for god's sake. Wear something floor-length, will you?

3. I loved the silver, gunmetal color of Beyonce's nails. I really loved how she cried while singing to the First Couple. I cried too. I'm such a sap.

4. I love how they seem so intimate even though millions of people are watching them. If it's an act, it's an exceptionally good one. (I think it's real.)

5. There was one douche at the Youth Ball wearing a striped, polo shirt. Give me a goddamnned break, right? How did that guy get in? He couldn't get into a tacky Las Vegas club but he could get into an inaugural ball?

6. I'm not from Chicago or anything but the Cubs are my 2nd favorite team. I don't hate the White Sox or anything but come on, Mr. President (ooohh, I love writing that!), don't start off your Presidency hating on the Cubbies. They're cursed enough as it is.

7. Jon Stewart is exceptionally funny unless Samantha Bee is around and then he just plain sucks.

8. Saddleback sounds waaay too much like bareback for me to even begin to take Rev. Warren's gay-hating seriously.

9. The first openly gay bishop of the Episcopal church (on The Daily Show) is wearing a pink shirt and bares a striking resemblance to Elton John. Coincidence or bad joke?

10. Oddly enough, Fox News had way better inaugural ball coverage than any of the other news channels. Shocking. The coverage was incredibly public access, if you will, but extensive.

11. So that poem the female poet I should probably not admit I don't know read? Not the best. I'll have to read it to make a final decision, but rhythmic poetry just doesn't translate well to the masses.

12. Texas just gained a new full-time citizen. I guess you could say we're taking one for the team.

God how I hate BBQ...

2009-01-16T11:59:00.002-06:00

How much food does it take to feed a party of 22? In my mom's world, it takes 6.5 lbs of cow, 4 half birds, and 10 lbs of miscellaneous pork parts wrapped in edible condoms. Not to mention sides and desserts.

If you ever wondered why Texas is top 5 in obesity it's because of the above. That's basically a pound of meat (just meat!) per person plus sides plus desserts. I say desserts plural because there will be many cakes and pies, as a southern family is want to do. (Technically we're west, not south, but we eat like poor, southern people so that works better for description's sake.)

I scoured the internet for the proper amount of food per person for a party. I came up with 1/4 lb of meat (or 1/2 lb if it's boned meat). Basically my family eats 4 x what the normal person would eat. It's quite gross actually.

I will not eat any of it, of course. I don't eat cow; I try to avoid sausage parts; and meat on a bone grosses me out. I thought about going to a local place and getting some wheat roast (fake meat) to see if anyone would notice, but I knew they would and I'd never live it down. Once your good food reputation is lost in my family, it's lost forever. (They still talk about the time my mother tried to make Stouffer's Stuffing at Thanksgiving one year and that was over 30 years ago!)

I tried to find a picture of 20 lbs of meat but the images grossed me out so bad I had to take a moment. So no pics.

Meat is gross.

If I were going to the inauguration...

2009-01-13T16:29:00.002-06:00

I'd wear this:

But with better hair and possibly in a deep, royal/peacock blue. I'd prefer a royal blue with the iridescent parts in peacock blue. Damn, I'd look good next to Obama. Not, you know, in place of Michelle, per se, just for pictures and what not.

Permanently disgruntled? Perhaps.

2009-01-08T14:52:00.003-06:00

Never buy from Barnes & Noble online or ship via UPS. I ordered a ton of books (9 or 10, which is a ton for me) on 12/26. I used 3 day air and paid via PayPal, mainly because I was too lazy to get up and get my debit card and PayPal was an easy click away. Then the problems started:

1. They charged Paypal oh, half a dozen times. I have no clue why.
2. They didn't ship for 5 days even though it should have already been at my house 2 days before they even decided to ship.
3. They split my order into 2 packages, which is ordinarily fine, but in the case of B&N, they decide to inform you 7 days after your package should have already arrived that they are splitting your order up even though they already sent out confirmation emails on everything.
4. UPS drops off a lovely, yellow InfoNotice, because oddly I was not at home from the hours of 2 to 5 in the middle of a work day. Odd.
5. UPS man/woman checks "A signature is required on delivery." I look to the back to read the instructions to make sure this is the one where I can just sign, not necessarily in person. It says, "If the 'A signature is required on delivery' box is checked, the driver must receive a signature either in person or by signing below." So I sign below and leave it for the driver.
6. The driver does not leave my package the next day and instead leaves a final notice. Great. (This was Tuesday.)
7. Wednesday evening I get home and there's a lovely book on my doorstep. Yes! No InfoNotice, no nothing. It's only 1 book and I remember that B&N split my order in two but still. I have 1 piece!
8. I'm about to travel over lunch to the boonies, where the UPS is oh-so conveniently located, when I decide to double check my tracking number online.
9. Hmmm... that's weird. It appears that my package is in fucking Pennsylvania. Rana - want some books?
10. I call the 800 number knowing my anger will most likely get the better of me and get a return phone call within an hour, as per policy.
11. The local UPS woman tells me the shipper insists on getting a signature in person. I politely (I think) inform the UPS woman that that was not the box that was checked on the multiple InfoNotices on my doors.
12. Then the local UPS woman decides that the driver must not have felt it was a safe location to leave a package, so that's why he didn't pay attention to the signature on the notice. I mention the package delivered the day before, just left on my doorstep, from UPS, presumably the same driver. I also mention how UPS packages are left on mine and my neighbors' doorsteps practically every week (I have 4 neighbors in my fourplex), so I doubt the usual driver has an issue with safety.
13. With no response, she informs me I must call the 800 number back and ask them to "intercept" my package. She apparently can't intercept my package and my only other option is to contact B&N and try to convince them to send me another package. Did I mention a couple of the books I ordered were 1 or 3 or some such low stock bullshit?
14. I call the 800 number. Oops. They can't do an intercept. I have to call the shipper.

Fucking shit, man. Now I have to call B&N, the original fuck-up and demand they send me my books all over again?

I hate B&N and UPS. I'm officially disgruntled. I can't even remember what books I ordered anymore. Damn.

And I'm back.

2009-01-07T16:50:00.003-06:00

After a 6ish week blog break, I've finally mustered up the energy (time?) to come up with more dumb shit to say. Lucky me. Lucky everyone else.

Dumb shit #1: New Year's Resolutions. I made some. I can't remember all of them (always happens to things I get excited about), but the highlights are:
1. Be more crafty. So far - success! I've made 4 crafty things this year. 2 of them turned out halfway decently. The other 2 aren't even good enough to give away for free. Oh well. It happens. I'm hoping for enough crafty items to start an etsy account, but right now that's only a hope.

2. Cook more. So far - success! I cooked a pot of beans over the weekend. Yep, that's it. The sad thing is that one cooking attempt in 7 days counts as a success. Well it does. I really, really don't cook, okay?

3. Go to the gym more starting January 5th. (Hey I'm not dumb enough to start a fitness New Year's resolution when I'm still hungover from a NY Eve party. I have priorities.) So far - success! I went Monday, I'm going today, and I have a pilates class this evening. I keep flucuating on what my goal should be. Should I aim for the ultimate - 6 days a week? Or should I aim for 3 and hope for more? I'm unsure as to what my failure rate might be, so I'm unsure where to set goals. I have strict philosophies about not letting myself down, which usually equates to not setting really high goals. Oh and writing things down on a to-do list that I've already done and scratching them all off. I like to feel successful too.

4. Be more budget-minded. So far - success! I spent most of last week at work (stupid holiday weeks when everyone else is on vacation) creating a year-long budget for myself. This isn't really too difficult to do because I budget every month. It's just that now I've decided to spend only cash, which I hope will make my lack of memory not be the reason I've blown my budget this month. (I never, ever remember all of my debit card purchases, even if I keep the receipts.)

5. Join the local community orchestra. So far - failure. I suck. 'Nuff said about that.

6. Volunteer more. So far - failure. I've done nothing except buy some cheap Soy Joy bars (seriously, like $.74 for 6 boxes!) that I intend to donate to the food bank. Only I'm not terribly sure where the food bank is. So that's another obstacle.

Here's to wishing success in the new year! I also plan on figuring out how to make my computer run faster but that's not a new year's resolution, just an I'm-going-to-fucking-throw-this-fucking-thing-across-the-fucking-room resolution, ya know?

Colbert Slays Me!

2008-11-14T12:53:00.002-06:00

Last night was the best Colbert of all time. It's as if he directed his show to me. Or at least parts of it. There was Pope humor, Footprints humor (haha!), and best of all, Jane Austen humor. I died. I am officially dead now. It was awesome.

Remember this little bit?

2008-11-12T11:26:00.002-06:00

Well check this out:

See what I'm saying? I think it's the sunglasses. (There are better pics but you get the point.) This was Monday when he went to visit Bush. I saw about 5,000 pictures of him getting off the plane on the news yesterday and had to post them. Most presidents look like they're about to fall off the steps. Not Barack. He looks cool and determined and... did I mention cool?

He can most likely only disappoint from this moment on but for now? I'm impressed.

My emotions have been hijacked and a crisis averted.

2008-11-10T22:10:00.003-06:00

I just watched last week's Grey's Anatomy. It involved old people. I cannot handle old people dying or being sad or freaking pumping the heart of their significant other after they sign the Do Not Resuscitate Form but have changed their minds when the SO is actually dying. I watched the first few episodes of ER way back when but stopped watching when too many old people died on the show. I'm not ashamed to watch and like Grey's Anatomy but I'm here to say I will stop watching their stupid show if more old people die on it. I cannot handle old people dying.

You know how after some cries, especially ones induced due to sappy tv shows or movies, you feel cathartic? Like you needed it in some way? I do not feel that way now. I feel mad. And pissed. And incredibly sad. I CANNOT handle old people dying.

On the bright side I gave my MOH toast at the wedding this weekend. It went pretty well I think. I was a little drunk afterwards and demanded praise for it. I'm not quite as annoying now, although I'll still take praise, but I was pretty worried about sounding like an idiot. I had a story to tell that was incredibly appropriate, but I really, really wanted to do the bride justice by telling it right. I didn't want to half-ass it and make the bride wish I'd said something better. I'm a little concerned I didn't praise her enough. Everything that I am - she's the opposite. I think because of that I respect and admire her more than I would if she were more like me. Because I know how easy it is to say and do all the wrong things (me) and how very hard it is to be patient and nice and forgiving and generally awesome (her). So if I didn't say it enough then - to you, B, may he make you happier than you can ever imagine you deserve. And may the rest of us beat him down if he doesn't!

Oh and she'll never read this because I'll forget to remind her by the time she comes back from her two weeks (wtf??) in Tahiti. I hate them.

America - fuck yeah!

2008-11-05T00:16:00.002-06:00

I sat in someone else's living room. I heard the cheers. I lifted my glass. I sat outside. I heard screams coming from neighboring houses. I drove home. There were people dancing in the street and horns honking all around.

Austin wasn't this happy when Vince Young won us the Rose Bowl in 2005. I love it here, and for the first day in my entire life, I wish I had a flag pin.

Oh and Karl Rove? Raise those Horns and sing that fight song again and I will send Bevo after you. I'm not even kidding.

AAARRRRGGGHHHH!!!!

2008-11-03T18:00:00.003-06:00

I'm so freaking excited! I can't WAIT until tomorrow. I hope he wins, I hope he wins, I hope he wins....

*fingers crossed*

Oh and I'm at a standstill with my MOH toast. Big surprise, eh? I have a great story to tell but I hate to tell it plus I want to kill in the humor department. I could totally bash the groom and get a few guffaws but I want the crows rolling. Hmmm... how to accomplish, how to accomplish? The wedding is Saturday. Any suggestions? Oh and I can't sing very well so it would have to be something incredibly easy, musically, if it were to be in song. And the same goes for dancing. I can take sarcasm to an artform though, if that helps.

Calorie counting is new? What?

2008-10-30T10:26:00.002-05:00

I read a blog post on Jezebel about the resurgence of calorie counting and then I read this NYTimes article about the same thing. I have two thoughts: 1) Why is Jezebel so blatantly ripping off the NYTimes? and 2) What? Huh? How is this new?

I'm not going to pretend to be an expert on weight loss (as anyone who has seen the size of my ass can attest to), but if ever me and mine are trying to lose a few pounds, it's always straight to the calorie counting. Any reader of Bridget Jones knows that food diaries (complete with caloric breakdown, and for the more OCD among us, protein and carb breakdowns too) and exact knowledge of calories in any given piece of food are a part of life. I can't remember the last time a diet didn't involve obsessive counting of calories. Who doesn't know that 3700 calories equals a pound of fat and that to lose 2 pounds a week, you have to cut (either through exercise or better nutrition) 7400 calories a week? Who doesn't eyeball the Starbucks menu and know exactly which skinny drink to order in exactly the size that fits in your "snack" quota of calories for the day? Who also doesn't know which fast food items to order (if one must order fast food) off the menu for the lowest-calorie meal?

I know extreme calorie counters (B, I'm looking at you) and I know lazy calorie counters. But pretty much everyone I know - at least the females - count calories in some way, shape, or fashion. I'm quite surprised about the "calorie counting is so 1980s" theme these articles are espousing.

I'll leave you with a Bridget Jones' Diary quote, which related to alcoholic units, calories, and cigarettes: Calories/Units/Cigs? "Oh ziiiillllliiiiooonnnsssss....." (It's possible I added a letter or two.)

Confession.

2008-10-21T07:26:00.001-05:00

I like bluegrass music. I do. I really like it. Of course, my opinion is solely based on an episode of King of the Hill that I saw last night. But still.

My cups filleth over - who knew?

2008-10-15T16:59:00.003-05:00

I went for a bra fitting today at a real lingerie shop. No Vicky S or even the Oprah-touted Nordies. I went to a place that's been around for ages, sells really expensive lacy things, and is practically the only store in town where one can find a 32 FFFF (if that's even a size).

You don't just walk into this store to browse either. Oh no. There's a sign-up sheet when you first walk in and a professional fitter (aka salesperson) takes you in the back and starts bringing in bras (after a firm measurement, of course). You never even get to walk through the store and think about what you might want. Instead you tell the "fitter" and they bring you different shapes, colors, materials, etc. The fitter also gets super personal with your ladies. It's not a place for the shy.

I originally went in the store thinking I would get a new bra (mine is currently held together by luck) and possibly some appropriate undergarment for the bridesmaid dress I'll be wearing in an upcoming wedding. Apparently the makers of BM dresses, not so unlike other dress makers, assume that a person with a significant bottom half must have a top to match. I don't know if they make bra sizes big enough to match my ass, but if they do they're at the store I went to today. Needless to say, I have A LOT of room up top in the dress and I was curious what advice the "fitter" would give. She suggested a bustier. I suggested going bra-less. We settled on cups that can be sewn in by the tailor. Apparently looking completely flat-chested in a dress isn't a good "look" for me, i.e. the bra-less version. Whatev.

So as it turns out I'm about 2 cups sizes bigger than I thought. I was right on the band size but this is all quite a shock to me (a girl who swears by the "miracle" of VS to help them look like anything other than the smallest of the small). I tried on the new, bigger bra and was completely overwhelmed. I think I still am. The cup was so huge! It's not like it made my boobs look bigger or anything. The bigger bra just made the bra look bigger. Very weird and disconcerting. Apparently the boob-look I'm used to is not the natural boob-look. Go figure.

The other weird thing? VS tried to tell me last year that my cup size was too small but I laughed in their faces thinking they were dumb VS salespeople. Now I've had a 2nd professional fitting and they say the same thing. I don't know who to believe - them (the professionals) or my own conception of boob-look and sizes. I think I need a 3rd fitting to fully accept the unavoidable: I now have a grown-up girl bra size. Sad.

A new, terrifying thought: do I have to reevalate my low-cut blouses that I always thought were okay to wear because my boobs were so small (a la Debra Messing, pre-baby)? My world is askew...

2 weeks off?

2008-10-14T15:11:00.003-05:00

If only I had a good excuse for not posting for two weeks. Something like vacation or dreamy days spent in fruity drink bliss. Unfortunately I've been too busy with work to post. How's that for shitty excuses?

I do have a few thoughts I think worth noting:

1) I did not like HP 7 after I first read it. As a matter of fact, it was the only HP book I didn't immediately (or thereafter) re-read. It remained on the shelf as the the one book I read once and put away. Frankly, I was mad at it. I didn't want the series to end - how do I describe my love for HP? - and this was the last book. So I took my anger out on the book itself. But in the last two weeks I've had quite a few hours to kill while driving from city to city (Texas is big, y'all), and the only book on tape I had on my iPod that I hadn't listened to was the last HP book. I gave in and let Jim Dale weave his magic and guess what? I like HP 7 now. I really like it. It's not as good when the kids aren't at Hogwarts, but it made me cry more times than I care to admit and that's usually a sign of a good book. I no longer have an angry, little knot in the bottom of my stomach when I think about Book 7. And actually, I think I might pick it up and give it another read sometime soon.

2) AUX inputs rock soooo much better than FM adapters. One of the best things about my new car, besides the obvious new car stuff, is the AUX input thing. I can listen to my iPod straight now, without any static or changing of FM channels. It it seriously awesome.

3) It recently came to my attention that non-Texans don't realize what "Don't Mess with Texas" really means. It's an anti-litter campaign. Although everything is bigger (and better) here, we don't actually create advertising campaigns strictly to shove it in other states' faces that we think we're better/tougher/etc. than everyone else. We're just anti-litter because we have so many freakin' roads to clean up.

4) Speaking of litter, throwing a cigarette butt out a car window is littering. I wish citizens' arrests were allowed for littering, because I'd be issuing those buggers all the damn time.

5) I can't think of any American sayings that people actually use. My friend is going to London next week and she's been talking a lot recently with her British friend, who apparently uses a lot of slang that we've never heard of. Accordingly, she's trying to think of American slang that doesn't cross the pond on a regular basis. All the slang I thought of used illicit words but apparently we all use those phrases. I was no help and the only things she came up with were phrases I've never heard anyone actually use, like snug as a bug in a rug. Who says that? Children's books maybe. But real people? Any thoughts on ways to mystify the English? I'm up for any suggestions.

6) ACORN has gotten a raw deal lately. I don't understand shadowing a non-profit organization with clouds of "quasi-criminal" activity (direct quote from stupid Repub chairman) if you don't have actual proof of it and especially when there is evidence that partisan groups (ahem) did some falsifying to create controversy. (See Washington Post and The Guardian for further stories.)

7) No one knows who Holly Golightly is. Go figure.

8) I learned something from Gossip Girl last night: there's an author named George San out there somewhere that someone thinks is worth reading. I haven't bothered to figure out who that is or what she wrote (I think it's a she), but don't ever say you can't learn something from television.

9) When traveling, Keith Olbermann is an excellent source of comfort. When one's world is topsy-turvy and one is rolling in the muck of liars and thieves, it's nice to know there's always someone there to be outraged for you, even if his topic is politics and yours is not. It's still nice to know that at 8/7c you can hear someone else yelling in the room for a change.

10) I'm a total bitch. I knew it before but I'm owning it now. Out of a room full of women, I'm the only one who wasn't being passive-agressive. I was just being agressive-agressive, which apparently leads to the older (and more powerful) men in the room being proud of you - didn't need their approval but it's nice nonetheless, especially when they're technically the big bosses.

Daily Pointers, yo.

2008-10-01T17:52:00.002-05:00

1. Axe Body Spray does not cover up the smell of personal filth (i.e. funk and body odor).

2. Girls do not automatically want to put band-aids on people just because they're girls.

3. Pensises do not actually get larger when a man holds a drill. They might technically get smaller. (Shrinkage through comparison, you see.)

4. Just because your decision was quick does not make it not stupid.

5. A Cubs baseball game will always look like a blooper reel.

6. Volunteering for more work sometimes means you'll really get more work.

7. A step back is not necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes you can get a better sense of the big picture and focus on what's really important (like your crazy, brilliant ideas and talents that got you started in the first place).

8. Halloween costumes lose their luster when worn all day at work, in the evening trick-or-treating, and at night for the big shindig.

9. Throwing your legs up over your ass only works when your ass isn't the size of a small national forest. (Pilates instructors should really know this.)

10. I should really be allowed to make all decisions everywhere. Or else run my own hugely-popular think tank. I'm open for either suggestion although I'm partial to the think tank.

The top 75 books by women, as decided by Jezebel.

2008-09-26T09:20:00.005-05:00

I'm all about this list. I'm a top 10 maniac. I used to buy every year-end review and top 10 of the year magazines on the newstands (until I got a job and realized I couldn't afford it). One of my mini-goals in life is to find and agree with a definitive book and/or movie list and make my way through it. So here is yet another "best of" list but this one is about books written by women (mostly) and decided by the editors and readers of Jezebel. It's an awesome list. I have a few books on my reading list right now but once I'm done, I'm tackling this list. Suggestions on where to start? (My thoughts in italics.)

The Lottery (and Other Stories), Shirley Jackson read it in high school
To the Lighthouse, Virginia Woolf own it but have refused to read it for some reason
The House of Mirth, Edith Wharton one of my favorite books evah!
White Teeth, Zadie Smith
The House of the Spirits, Isabel Allende
Slouching Towards Bethlehem, Joan Didion
Excellent Women, Barbara Pym
The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath seriously? I'm not into slitting my wrists right now...
Wide Sargasso Sea, Jean Rhys
The Namesake, Jhumpa Lahiri saw the movie
Beloved, Toni Morrison read it, got totally caught up in it, and felt really, really weird for awhile afterwards
Madame Bovary, Gustave Flaubert amazing
Like Life, Lorrie Moore
Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen are you kidding? my favorite book of all time.
Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë read it. eh.
The Delta of Venus, Anais Nin I'm scared of Anais Nin. Should I be?
A Thousand Acres, Jane Smiley
A Good Man Is Hard To Find (and Other Stories), Flannery O'Connor read it in high school but can't remember it
The Shipping News, E. Annie Proulx
You Can't Keep a Good Woman Down, Alice Walker
Their Eyes Were Watching God, Zora Neale Hurston
To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee
Fear of Flying, Erica Jong
Earthly Paradise, Colette
Angela's Ashes, Frank McCourt
Property, Valerie Martin
Middlemarch, George Eliot own it but am scared of the tiny print.
Annie John, Jamaica Kincaid
The Second Sex, Simone de Beauvoir
Runaway, Alice Munro B gave me this one. I've read about half of the stories. They're really good.
The Heart is A Lonely Hunter, Carson McCullers
The Woman Warrior, Maxine Hong Kingston
Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë like movie versions better.
You Must Remember This, Joyce Carol Oates
Little Women, Louisa May Alcott *sob* Beth!
Bad Behavior, Mary Gaitskill
The Liars' Club, Mary Karr
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou amazing book of poetry. practically the only one I own.
A Tree Grows In Brooklyn, Betty Smith read this in junior high or elementary school thinking it was a young adult book. it's not and i think i've blocked it out.
And Then There Were None, Agatha Christie
Bastard out of Carolina, Dorothy Allison
The Secret History, Donna Tartt
The Little Disturbances of Man, Grace Paley
The Portable Dorothy Parker, Dorothy Parker this reminds me of Gilmore Girls.
The Group, Mary McCarthy
Persepolis, Marjane Satrapi
The Golden Notebook, Doris Lessing
The Diary of Anne Frank, Anne Frank does the play count?
Frankenstein, Mary Shelley I once got in a disagreement over the meaning of the word sublime because of this book. I was right.
Against Interpretation, Susan Sontag
In the Time of the Butterflies, Julia Alvarez
The Good Earth, Pearl S. Buck high school again. horribly depressing.
Fun Home, Alison Bechdel
Three Junes, Julia Glass
A Vindication of the Rights of Woman, Mary Wollstonecraft
Sophie's Choice, William Styron
Valley of the Dolls, Jacqueline Susann
Love in a Cold Climate, Nancy Mitford it's on my amazon wishlist. does that count?
Gone with the Wind, Margaret Mitchell read it multiple times. love it.
The Left Hand of Darkness, Ursula K. LeGuin
The Red Tent, Anita Diamant
The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera it's on my list - thanks B! - and sitting on my end table by the couch
The Face of War, Martha Gellhorn
My Antonia, Willa Cather
Love In The Time of Cholera, Gabriel Garcia Marquez love marquez even though i haven't read this one.
The Harsh Voice, Rebecca West
Spending, Mary Gordon
The Lover, Marguerite Duras
The God of Small Things, Arundhati Roy
Tell Me a Riddle, Tillie Olsen
Nightwood, Djuna Barnes
Three Lives, Gertrude Stein
Cold Comfort Farm, Stella Gibbons seen the movie and Kate Beckinsdale has some effed up teeth in it. *shudder*
I Capture the Castle, Dodie Smith yep. I read it. I don't think it belongs on this list.
Possession, A.S. Byatt I feel like I've read this but I can't put my finger on what it's about....

"Son, be a dentist. You'll be a success."

2008-09-23T13:48:00.002-05:00

Me yesterday at work: "Dentist appt. In late." on Where Are You? Board (preparing for next morning)
Me last evening: double checking calendar for time of appointment.
Me this morning: sleeping a tad late, fun!
Me later this morning: walking in dentist office for appointment approximately 2 minutes early (my goal in all appointments).
Nurse in dentist office: Why are you here, sweetie?
Me: my appointment, duh. I have one on Tuesday the 22nd.
Nurse: This is Tuesday the 23rd. You had one yesterday on Monday the 22nd. You missed it.
Me: Shit.

I Hate Hurricanes.

2008-09-19T11:02:00.002-05:00

And I've never approved of Ike as a real name either. While most of my family and my friends and their families came away from Ike with relative minor damage (no electricity, boiling water, minor flood damage, fences knocked down, chimney splits in two, roof peeled up in the corner, roof ripped off, 50+ year-old trees completely gone, cars crushed, etc., etc., etc.), some people got really sucker-punched.

As I've mentioned before I'm natural disaster sensitive. I blame Katrina. Ever since those first dreams of floods, every tornado, earthquake, tsunami, and gentle breeze that got media coverage has made its way into my nightmares. Ike is no exception. I'm declaring today that the nightmares will stop. I will no longer dream about drifting out to sea on a leftover piece of roof, about cats being stranded in trees, and a building crashing in around me while I'm attempting to call my mother (now a recurring nightmare). I'm declaring myself free from these horrors.

While I'm in the dream-demanding mood, I'll take a few more about Brad Pitt, thank you very much.

And yet another casualty of Ike? My dear Astros. May they kick some Pirate ass! (And may the Phillies kick some Marlin ass (two birds and all), the Braves some Mets ass, and the Reds some Brewers ass. Whew. That's a lot of teams to count on at one time...

sniffle I'm the biggest sports nerd.

2008-09-12T09:23:00.002-05:00

There's a new female attorney in my office who plays fantasy football. That fact aside, I like her a lot. (I'm opposed to all fantasy sport leagues. I think it takes away from the team aspect of the game although I'm very familiar with the pros, so don't lecture me.)

We were at a work conference this week and one of my male co-workers (whom I've wrote about in the past, ahem, pesos jackass) described the her as "probably the girl in the office with the most sports knowledge." I've spoken with this male co-worker (who I'll refer to as Jackass Yankees Fan or JYF) on a few different occasions about baseball. JYF assumes I know nothing because a) I'm a "girl" and b) I'm not a JYF. Um, dude? MY team's 3 games out. Your team is in shambles. Let's talk next season, kay? He's never once brought up the subject of football or basketball or any other sport for that matter. He never even discussed the Olympics with me, which we all know I was all over.

So how does he know the new woman has the most sports know-how? It's obviously an unresearched statement, at best and a downright fabrication at worst.

I know it seems petty to obsess over something so slight but as any woman sports fan can tell you, random baseball and/or football conversations are few and far between, at least as compared to our male counterparts. Of course the bf and I can discuss until we're blue in the face (although his baseball knowledge, which he touted when we first started dating, is seriously lacking - is this what "fraud" means in those weirdo annulments?) but what about the watercooler? I keep up with a lot of the breaking sports news through my online connection to the world (i.e. my computer at work), and I can only call the bf randomly during the day so many times.

It's like JM and S (hello!), two of my very good friends who are dating. Neither JM (the man) nor S (the woman) are seriously into sports but S is very enthusiastic. And JM constantly makes fun of her for getting excited when we watch a sporting event together, which is completely odd to me because why wouldn't you get excited when someone's scoring a touchdown, swimming a race, hitting an ace, or knocking one out of the ballpark? If S were a guy (all oddities in the scenario removed of course), would JM make fun of her/him for being excited about sports even if he/she admitted he/she didn't watch all the time? Of course there's the whole bf/gf dynamic I'm overlooking but I'm trying to illustrate a point.

What this all comes down to is that I want to be the woman in the office (not the girl - I won't even get into the naked misogynist undertones of JYF referring to the new co-worker as a girl) who knows the most about sports. I'm willing to go head-to-head in a little sports trivia with the new co-worker to earn the title, although I'm not sure she'd be willing as she doesn't label herself as a sports afficiando, and hell, I'm willing to go head-to-head with the men in my office too. I bet a million dollars I'd be in the top 10%, especially if the trivia involved actual, present-day strategies, rules, regulations, players, etc. I love the sports trivia person who can name every Heisman trophy winner but can't tell me the ins and outs of small ball play. (I'm looking at you bf.)

On a related note, the 'Stros are 3 games out!! I will admit I had no confidence. I was wrong. Go Astros, Go!*

*I can only hope Ike doesn't ruin their winning streak since they have to postpone at least 2 games against the Cubs (who the swept last series) due to sheer freaks of nature. And for those that care, I doubt my town will even see a drop of rain, much like the great Rita Dustbowl of 2005. Although I am moving my new car in a parking garage tonight, just in case the trees of never-ending falling branches at my house decide to multiply, like they did a few months ago with the old car.

P.A.N.T.H.E.R.S.

2008-09-05T16:39:00.002-05:00

Once again I'm taking the cheap way out and posting something I saw on Jezebel. Too bad. It's damn funny.

And then there was Jon

2008-09-04T13:28:00.000-05:00

So brilliant.

I'm offended.

2008-09-03T23:56:00.003-05:00

By the moment in Palin's speech where she said that only one candidate has fought for "you." She paused strategically, of course, and then continued to say he was the only candidate who fought for you when the fight meant life and death.*

I'm offended.

I have a public service job and I'm offended by the notion that unless I put on a military uniform, I'm not fighting for the people.

I'm offended.

Obama worked in the trenches of one of the poorest areas in the country and to insinuate that he wasn't "fighting for America" is insulting to his work, those who do similar work, and those who are benefited by someone giving a rat's ass about them. And to further imply that someone in a socio-economically depressed environment isn't living in a life and death situation shows a fundamental disregard for both facts and human suffering, not to mention a complete lack of understanding of anything other than an upper, middle-class world.

I can tolerate a bit of dem/Obama jabbing at the RNC. I expect it. But to personally insult me, not just my candidate, and others like me sends me through the roof. I can assure you that it is not in my economic interest to do the work I do. I can also assure you that I made the decision to work for the public early on in my professional schooling. To insinuate that my contributions don't count, that I'm not "fighting" for my country (and the people within it) is something that goes beyond ignorance. It goes to the essence of understanding the world beyond you and why I'm a democrat without label and without hesitancy. Kindness and understanding are essential to my world view. Knowing that I'm not the only person in this world and that there are people who have much different experiences from me are what make up the basis of my decision to choose a political party that works for the poor, the under-represented, and the "fighters" of the world.

So fuck you, Palin. You may be one Sephora trip away from a pit bull but you're miles away from understanding what it means to be anyone other than yourself.

*I'd like to point out that if not for that comment, I wouldn't have a lot of negative things to say about her speech. I know what I'm getting into when I tune in to rabid Republicans, as they did a week ago.

Tom Ridge is a moron. Or is he?

2008-09-03T13:55:00.002-05:00

I've searched and searched and searched and I cannot find any video evidence to document what I'm about to tell you but trust me when I say that I heard him (Tom Ridge) loud and clear.

I was watching the Republican National Convention last night when I saw Joe "I Swear I'm a Democrat Even Though None of Them Will Let Me Be One" Lieberman sell his soul to the devil. On an aside, I can tolerate JLie campaigning for McCain and touting his friend's accomplishments. I cannot tolerate him lying to people about Obama. Keep it to what you know, Joe, McCain's ass. (I tuned in 100% during the JLie speech because my man Gonzo lost to Roddick in the Open. It was over quite quickly and pathetically. Gonzo still looked good though. I be Chilean men really know how to woo American, slightly stalkerish, women.)

One of the MSNBC reporters, I think Andrea Mitchell, interviewed Tom Ridge after all the speeches were done. She was asking him about his take on Palin. I can't quote directly without a source, as I'm not that smart, but he basically said that Hillary voters, aka women, will vote for Palin because vaginas will vote for vaginas, regardless of policies.

I think this is what my friend B was trying to tell me when I was still in a sleep-deprived stupor Monday evening. Did McCain really pick Palin because he assumed we would all vote with our lady parts as opposed to our lady brains? I don't think many women who supported Hillary would support an anti-choice woman, regardless of her genitalia. Not to mention the fact that HRC was all about the semi-socialized healthcare and I have yet to meet a Republican who would support such things. (I'm sure they exist, I just don't know them.)

Back to my thesis: Is Tom Ridge a moron? Or is he a truth-teller? Or thirdly, does he have a case of sour grapes over not being chosen as the VP choice and attempting sabotage?

I guess only time will tell...

Sarah, Palin and Tall

2008-09-01T15:56:00.002-05:00

Just a few, quick thoughts (keen insight to follow once my brain has recovered and I've become re-hydrated):

How hilarious is it that the "rumor" about this crazy christian, gun-toting ex-beauty queen is that her most recent kid is actually her 17 year-old daughter's kid and she's pretending it's hers? How very V.C. Andrews. How even more hilarious that she counters this rumor by saying her daughter is 5 months pregnant as we speak? As if that makes the likelihood of the above rumor lessened? But even if it's not true (and really the kid has Down's, which is much more likely to occur in older parents), how awesomely did the rumor mill work is terrible, black magic? "You will admit your failings as a parent Mrs. Palin, oh yes, you will." (so sayeth the black magic)

Brief text message conversation with my Repub friend at 8:00 a.m. Friday morning went something like this:

Me - NBC confirms the alaskan beauty queen.
Her - Woohoo! Change we can believe in.
Me - Change you can hang your tiara on.
Her - Not a beauty contest, a scholarship opportunity.

I later saw footage of Palin shooting an AK 47. I wonder what her talent was...

I'm off to holiday at the Cape.

2008-08-27T17:25:00.003-05:00

Aren't you jealous of my poser self? I've never been to Cape Cod. Or anywhere on the East Coast other than NYC and DC, although I do firmly feel if I had to choose, I'd be an East Coast Woah-man. But you know, I'm landlocked currently. Unless I drive a couple of hours away that is. I digress.

I'm off to vacay and have a wonderfully long weekend with a bunch of excellent, intellectually stimulating women. (Actually I've never met most of them but whatever. It's best to start with bright expectations.) I'd be happy with a good joke and a free-flowing bottle of wine actually. I'm not terribly hard to please.

I'll be hitting up Provincetown and seeing the infamous Varla Jean (I hope I got that right) from the drag queen Project Runway ep. She was the winning model, at least in the sense that she was wearing the pink pantsuit that won. I'll also be stopping by the Marc Jacobs store because I'm a sucker for "special items" found only in-store. Plus there are no stores here in ATX.

I purchased some very naughty items for a certain lingerie shower that shall remain to-be bride nameless. I bought (don't read past here B if you've found the time in your busy schedule to actually read this dribble!) an awesome riding crop thing that makes me want to hit everyone I know. With the riding crop, that is. And only when I'm holding it in my hand. Which I haven't done so very often, really. I mean, it is at my house and all. And I wouldn't be a very good friend if I gave her faulty goods, would I? I should really make sure it works well...

I haven't used it any kind of dirty way, unless you count slapping the couch with it and telling Hillary to "get in line" right before she spoke last night at the DNC. But I don't count that. Speaking of HRC, sisterhood of the traveling pantsuits? How awesome was that line? When she started in on sisterhood, I was weary, when she got to traveling I was audibly groaning, waiting for the shitty punchline, but when she came to pantsuits, I laughed out loud at both myself for expecting the worst and HRC for making a funny.

I've always been a HRC fan. Until the last few months. And I'm pretty sure I'm no fan of Bill's anymore either. I defended his bad behavior when it was helping me but I'm pretty sure he's a big, fat asshole who can't keep it in his pants. I have enough ego to satisfy my entire world. I don't need it from him too. BUT. I fell in like with HRC all over again last night. It was if the prior devious and dirty months were erased. I didn't put on my pink, rosy glasses or anything and I'm still suspicious of motives, but she done good. Good job, Hills. You deserve the praise.

Long way of saying, I'll be out for a few days. Try not to cry and if the empty comment section is any indication, I'm sure all the varied and many people out there who read this blog (um rambling?) will manage just fine.

See you next fiscal year! (Oh my. Too nerdy?)

Ding dong, the Olympics are dead.

2008-08-25T14:40:00.002-05:00

I love the Olympics as much as the next anti-nationalist gal. It's the only time I can truly get excited about the American flag, the national anthem, and random chants of "USA!" That said, I'm so glad they're over. Truthfully I'm so incredibly sleep-deprived from the event that I could be bordering on delirious. Last night was the first night I've slept more than 5 hours in over a week.

Here are some highlights/random thoughts about the whole experience:

1) Do Nastia Lukin's legs bend outward? (I got into a point and shout match with a couple of friends over this one. They couldn't see and everytime one of her legs bent inside out, I pointed and shouted, "See? Right there! Those should not be concave from that angle!" It was awesome.)

2) It's that damn Phelps squiggly kid again. I get he's got more medals than all the African countries put together but if a person has no knowledge base with which to compare the greatness of a mess of medals, does it really matter? Meaning - how the hell can so many freaking people give a rat's ass about this weirdo swimmer guy?

3) Except in the case of that amazing relay. That was straight up awesome.

4) I'm only a fan of basketball in All-Star game situations, i.e. the Redeem Team (dumb name though). And when I'm a fan I'm also suddenly an expert. It's only annoying to those people in the room who aren't me.

5) Gymnastics rules. Unless it's on a trampoline or uses a hula hoop. Then it's just dumb.

6) Speaking of gymnastics, how do those girls not have the worst shin splints in the world? Mysterious...

7) I'm secretly in love with Usain Bolt. He's too quick for me to catch up to him though. Get it? Quick? 'Cause he's, um, fast? Whatever. Nonetheless that dude seriously made the other runners look like they were mall walking. When he wasn't showboating and you could tell he was crazy nervous, he made me love him just a tiny bit more. USAin! What? It's similar.

8) What I wouldn't give to be a fly on one of the many walls at the Athlete's Village. Heard those folks got all kinds of busy.

9) How exactly do you break a sweat playing ping pong? And why isn't it called ping pong?

10) Way to make a girl feel old - change the rules to volleyball since she last played it (in junior high).

11) Why is beach volleyball an Olympic sport? I can't stand it on the beach and I especially can't fucking stand it on tv. Shoot me if I hear another commentator talk about hard it is to leap and jump from the sand. You know what would make leaping and jumping easier for you freaks? Being indoors on a real gym floor, that's what. Shut up.

12) Listening to boxing commentators is probably the most hilarious thing I've ever done (in the last 2-3 days). And I quote: "You better learn how to fight if your mom makes you wear a dress. Or run." But all in this slightly insane high-pitched Jersey accent. He was talking about a boy, in case you didn't put it together. It was damn funny.

Here's hoping the Dem Convention will be just as entertaining! MSNBC, here I come. Keith O better rule that jackass Chris Matthews or I'll be pissed.

And then there was meat.

2008-08-21T12:36:00.003-05:00

The meat story.

Guy called me at work seeking out some phone numbers and addresses. I went to a government agency's website and gave them to him (all stuff he could have done himself, which is not to say I wasn't happy to help but to signify how slight the help I gave him was).

A few days later an Admin walks in my office and tells me she has a package for me but can't open it and can she borrow my scissors? I hand them to her, she perches the package on the edge of my desk as she cuts into the the thing, starts to reach in the envelope, starts giggling (which made me look up from my oh-so-busy-and-time-consuming spreadsheet), and begins to pull out what I was certain was a ziploc bag full of black hair.

Upon further examination, which was difficult given that I'd slammed my chair (and myself) far across my office to get away from the bag of hair, we realized it was not hair but was, instead, some form of dried meat product.

My loud use of words and phrases (i.e. "what the fuck!" and "who the fuck sends shit like that in the mail?") attracted another co-worker to my office. When he realized it was a bag 'o meat, he reached his hand in, grabbed a hunk, tore into it like the savage beast (read: stupid) we all knew he was, and said "tasty" right before he walked back down the hall with the remaining hunk still clutched between his clammy, dumb hands. (Hands can be stupid - see: hands of a person who take random meat products out of unknown packages and feed them to said person's stupid mouth.)

There was a note inside that said the "meat" was homemade and thanks for helping aforementioned guy. But no notice as to what kind of meat product it was. The guy was from Arkansas and while I hate to be state-ist, who knows what they turn into edible products over there? Now I'm assuming it was a beef jerky of sorts but I have no way of knowing for sure.

Oh and did I mention that I don't eat beef? And just an fyi, although I wouldn't classify my job as dangerous, more than once my name or other people at my office's name has come up in correspondence to and from jail cells. Just saying.

Luckily the dumb co-worker didn't die. Luckily my office can't accept gifts. Luckily there's a homeless guy who hangs out right around the corner from my building. Luckily he was there, that fate meat day, and luckily he accepted my offer or dried meat product.

Long story short: grossest fucking day ever.

How personal should a blog be?

2008-08-14T13:56:00.004-05:00

I've debated how in-depth to go here, how much to share with complete strangers on the internet, and I've come to the conclusion that I'm just going to go there. I'm stripping away all the barriers of electronic media and feeding my ill-informed vanity even more by posting about my deepests and darkests. Here goes:

Today I found a 2" hair growing in the middle of my forehead. Technically it was slightly above my right eyebrow but completely disturbing nonetheless. It was blonde, had a bit of a wave or curl to it and it was freaking long! How have I missed that over the months that it's been growing? I mean, I'm not exactly a non-vain person. (Although I can't say I'm too concerned with physical appearance though, if my work attire/lack of make-up is any indication.) I have multiple mirrors in my house. There's the bathroom with two mirrors (already there when I moved in), the full-length mirror in the hallway, the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door (also there when I moved in and I never use it because my bedroom door is always open), the vanity in my bedroom, the large mirror in the entryway, and the wall of mirror tiles in the dining room (to make the space look larger and all). So it's not like I don't look at myself - critically even. So how did I miss a giant hair growing out of the middle of my forehead? It's a mystery.

So there, internet, you now know all about me. I'll expect gifts of tweezers in the mail after you google all my info (that you gleaned from my overshare in this post).

Oh and one more thing. A guy sent me meat in the mail at work today as a thank-you. I yelled "fuck" many times today at work as well. Possibly the two were related? A homeless guy on the corner has some good eatin' coming his way.

Perpetual Fear of Hair Death

2008-08-12T11:11:00.003-05:00

Shannon mentioned in a comment how she thought I'd be able to understand, above all others, the sense of dread and fear that comes over a person when he or she finds out their beloved stylist is moving on to greener pastures, i.e. not somewhere they could follow, tail wagging pathetically.

And I do understand.

I had my hair styled and poofed and colored within an inch of its life last weekend. My stylist was very excited about some avant garde work she'd submitted for some industry award. She talked about how winning the award will put her work in every industry mag and possibly get her some crazy editorial content job for fashion mags and a whole host of other potential star-making endeavors that I tuned out.

I should have been happy for her. And at first I was. I should have been proud that MY stylist was so artsy and good and all that jazz. And at first I was. Until. Until it started to sink in that if she became all fancy and wanted and everything, she'd leave me. That's when the fear and slight waves of panic took me over. I guess that's what Brian Austin Green must have felt like when Megan Fox got her Transformers gig. Or whatever it was that she did first that made her a name. Happiness that leads to dread over the realization that the other person will eventually leave you? Worst. feeling. ever.

So Brian Austin Green - you can come sit with me. I'll understand. I might have roots down to my shoulders and split ends up my back, but damnit, I'll feel you.

Review time...

2008-07-31T14:24:00.003-05:00

Latest book read: House of Lights by Leah Cohen
Latest movie seen: The X-Files, something, something, something.

House of Lights was extraordinarily good. I don't use that word lightly (extraordinarily) either. It's not up there with "best book I ever read" kind of praise but it's definitely upper middle-class. It was so good I read it all in one sitting, which almost never happens. I started it, it got interesting, and when it was time to go to bed, I couldn't put it down. So I read on and on and on. And it made me cry, it made me laugh (not that it was a funny book), and it made me want to call my mom and listen to classical music. Oh and never marry a significantly older man, although that's another story, I'm sure. I found this book on one of the NYTimes greatest of the year lists and while I can't say it was "greatest list" worthy, as I haven't read all the books on the list, it didn't disappoint. Oh and fyi, it's about a 19 y.o. aspiring actress who contacts her estranged grandmother, who is a famous actress, to, ya know, cut through some of the red tape and what not. The grandmother is estranged because her mother doesn't talk to her, not because there's any history between the granddaughter and the grandmother.

X-Files was more than okay. I am not a fangirl or anything like that but I watched enough X-Files back in the day to like the show and hope for a better movie than the "other" one. The movie caught me off-guard with some romantic developments and while I was squealing (alone) in the audience, I kept looking around wondering if anyone else was as icked out/delighted as I was to see some of the scenes. I don't think they were. Weirdos. The movie also acted as a catalyst for a completely ridiculous fight between the bf and me re: whether X-Files was really about aliens or not. (I say not, he says yes. I'm totally right. It was about the unexplained, and sometimes that happened to be aliens but not most of the time and barely even some of the time.) If the show had been all about aliens, I probably wouldn't have watched it as much as I did. While I'm all into psychic unexplained phenomena, I'm less enthusiastic about the possibility of life outside of earth. I believe it could be and I believe there probably is other life out there, but I just. don't. care. I could not care less if there are little bacterias or amoebas out there waiting to grow up big and strong into dinosaurs or birds or pseudo-humans or whatever.

I'm off track. The movie was good and if you dig any X-Files epis at all, check it out. You won't be disappointed although you might be cold (there are a lot of snow-covered scenes in the movie). And did I mention I adore David Duchovny (Why don't you love me? - name that tune) and Amanda Peet (I know of no song that mentions her name).

It's 10 items OR LESS, lady.

2008-07-29T13:30:00.002-05:00

It's my turn to buy the cupcakes/cookies/whatever for a birthday at work. Fine. I'll go to the store and run in quickly and get something. (Um, it's not actually my turn, to be fair, because I got some recently but there are a number of people at my office - generally the well paid few although not all - who refuse to ever buy anything for work bday parties. Assholes.) Anyway. I run in, grab two dozen cupcakes (so pretty! so bright!) a few cans of tuna (since I'm there, right?) and head to the express, express lane right by the produce at the front door. See there are regular express landes in the regular check-out section but this is the super express lane, because it's right by the prepared foods section. Most people run to that line when they have 1 - 3 items, maybe slightly more but rarely ever reaching even the 10 item pentacle that is the line's limit.

But not the lady in front of me. Here's how my line worked out: Lady 1, like 4 things, Boy - drink, and then Cat Food Lady. At first I thought she only had a basket because she had a watermelon in it, which makes total sense. Who wants to carry a watermelon around? (At least who wants to that's not named Baby?) But her big bosom and large old-lady purse hid the real culprits: bottles of substance (couldn't tell what it was) and cat food. I see her think hard, as if debating, as she stares at her basket. I think at first it's because she's got a big bag of regular potato chips in her cart that she should totally not be eating. (I could be projecting but whatev.) Now I think it's because she was counting her plentiful items and realizing that she was putting other customers (me!) out by making us wait on her grocery line-hijacking self.

Her items: bag of chips, watermelon, cantaloupe, about 5,000 bottles of unidentified substance, and approximately 20,000 cans of cat food. In case you can't add, that's more than 10.

The real crime was not all the many minutes it took for her to load up her purchases on the tiny, tiny conveyer belt (indicative of the "express" nature of the line) or the many environmentally unfriendly plastic bags the checker had to use to bag up her 25,000+ items or even the check she wrote (in arabic, apparently, since it took her so long to get the thing written). No. None of those was the real annoyance. The biggest crime she committed was using her big bosom (I'm being very nice here) and hiding the evidence of the crimes she planned on committed. As it was, when I made my decision to stand behind her, the only visible items were the melons and fat-inducing shards of lard (chips). The mystery bottles and cat food were hidden as her mighty, mighty chest fell over the entire front part of the shopping cart and hid what was buried beneath.

I seethed so much behind her and gave so many dirty looks (with many pointed gestures at the 10 items or less sign visibly displayed) that I kind of think she got my point, but it really wasn't enough. I really, really wanted to tap her on the shoulder, kindly point out the sign, and mention that if she has more items than that and is writing a check, she might be a little more considerate to her fellow shoppers and go to a regular line. But I didn't. *sigh* I couldn't bring myself to be that confrontational, even though it wasn't really a rude comment. It would have felt wrong to die by a mad cat woman suffocating the life out of me with her moutainous jugs while she jabbed me in the eye with her readily available check-writing pen. As such, I kept my mouth shut.

Is there a polite way to tell someone they have too many items for the express lane? I've occasionally gone to the 10 items line with 11-15 items, but I always ask the cashier if it's okay and never when it's busy or there's someone behind me - I let them know I have more than 10. But I've never gone to the super-express line and expected to get away with such insolent behavior.

Oh and by the way lady, your cat's teeth are going to fall out from all that soft food. I hope you're happy.

I think this is called tagging?

2008-07-22T14:12:00.002-05:00

She named me - is that the official tag? I'm new to all of this stuff. If so, here goes. If not, oh well. I haven't done a survey since my rabid myspace days. Thanks to Blondie for the... tag? She's on my blogroll so you probably have but if you haven't, read her blog. It's definitely read-at-work worthy.

1. What are the last three things you purchased?
I won't list groceries and my amazing good deal on Electrasol thingees at Target because that's boring, right? I bought an Astros hat at Walmart Saturday morning. I am usually anti-Walmart, and it's on my "boycott when convenient" list (along with Target pharmacies, Exxon, and beef products). But the bf wanted to look at Star Wars toys (please, please don't ask), and we were in hostile country (Clear Lake) where the only thing resembling Target was Walmart. So we went and since I wanted a hat to wear to the Astros game that night, I bought it. It was only $12 too! I now know what anti-union, anti-American smells like. It smells like the cheap, cheap price of $11.99, and I have to say I liked it. Let's see. I also bought some ear buds (with bling on them!) in the clearance section at Target over the weekend and 2 UT Longhorn shirts at Kohls. I don't support buying your own school's memorabilia like that (I'm weird, I know), but I'm going to Cape Cod over Labor Day and figured I could get away with wearing them there.

2. What are the last thee songs you downloaded?
Ha! Three songs from the Newsies soundtrack. A Christian Bale post on Jezebel last week got me all Newsied-up and since my soundtrack got stolen a billion years ago, I downloaded what I could find of the record. I love that movie.

3. Where were the last three places you visited?
Nasa (to take a special behind-the-scenes tour), Moody Gardens (where we snuck into the Titanic exhibit - boring - so glad we didn't pay), and Minute Maid Field (see previous post). It was an extension of the staycation where we traveled far and away (Houston) to visit all the lame touristy places we never bothered to go to when we (I) lived there.

4. What are your three favorite movies?
Only 3? I'm counting series as 1 movie - Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, and Goonies. (I could have easily listed the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice, Legally Blonde, and Bridget Jones' Diary but I was going with my nerdy list this time.) See what I did there? I disposed of the 3 requirement with a parenthetical reference. Pure genius.

5. What are your three favorite possessions?
My computer - silly but true
My pearl necklace - I won't label whore but they're very nice and were a gift
My flute
My blanket that my grandmother gave to me made by my great-grandmother of my great-aunt's curtains. Got all that?
My silver ring from Tiffany's (I bought it for myself with my own money at the Tiffany's on 5th Ave after I graduated law school - it's very symbolic to me even though it's not the huge endeavor now that it was then)
I'm obviously ignoring the rules of this survey.

6. What three things can you not live without?
Diet coke
The internet
ghost shows on A&E

7. What would be your three wishes?
Jump out of a plane (doing it for my 30th bday this year)
spend time in Paris (hopefully going next year)
own a house in Hyde Park that I could afford (meaning I'd have more money, not that there would be a house that would be in my current budget)

8. What are three things you have not done yet?
Isn't this the same question as the one above?
jumped out of a plane
been to Paris
been to Turkey, Russia, Japan, Hawaii, and many, many other places

9. What are your three favorite dishes?
vietnamese spring rolls - good ones
unagi (eel) rolls - any kind will do as long as there are no sauces on it
my mom's mac 'n cheese - freaking amazing

10. What three celebrities would you want to hang out with the most?
Kathy Griffin
Lauren Graham
Jon Stewart

11. Name three things that freak you out.
snakes
cruise ships
plants that move towards the sun (like ivys and vines) *shudder*

12. If you could describe yourself in three words, what would they be?
sarcastic
disgruntled
genius

13. Name three unusual things you are good at.
counting things
playing the flute
thinking shit up

14. What are three things you are currently coveting?
a fabulous purse (i'm shallow, i'll admit it)
new bedstuffs
someone to buy me xm radio because i can't justify spending the $$$ on something that's supposed to be free - radio (but all the sports channels!! I never have to search for a game again!)

15. What three bloggers would you like tag?
I'm not sure who has already been tagged (besides Blondie and Rana and Lauren) so I'll go with:
Squishy over at BoredSquishy
CK at DisplacedUrbanite
and MaterialLust

To endcap my previous post...

2008-07-22T12:10:00.000-05:00

A Little Texas Sports Love

2008-07-22T10:15:00.002-05:00

I have three things to glow about today, at least with regards to Texas and her illustrious sports teams.

1) I was in Houston over the weekend and I had dinner at Yao's. (For those of you that don't know, Yao's is Yao Ming's family restaurant.) It was surprisingly good and very light on the sports decor. We sat in the bar area so we could watch the Astros game and it was a really nice evening. The bar area is not like most restaurant/bars. It was big, decorated well, had these comfy round booth things, loads of non-beer soaked tables, and at least when we were there, wasn't crowded with drunkies. The food was good too. I was pretty impressed with the whole thing, to be honest. I never expected it to be anything but a Chinese version of Dave and Buster's. But since we were in town and staying so close to the area where his restaurant was, we decided to check it out. I give it two chopsticks up.

2) I also attended to Astros vs. Cubs game Saturday night. It was the best game I've ever been to. I had the awesome seats (right below the press box, just behind homeplate) and the Astros pulled it out inning after inning. Wandy? You're alright, man. I won't discuss how the series ended - I was hoping for a sweep - but for one, brief moment in time I caught a glimpse of the team I've grown to love over the last few years. It was a nice endcap to my extraordinarily nice weekend.

3) I love T.O. I will say it proud(ly) and say it loud(ly). I love him. Remember that scene from Jerry McGuire when Renee Zellwegger's character is gushing to her sister about how much she loves Tom Cruise's character in the morning, post-sex? And he accidentally overhears her? That's me with T.O. I can't comment too much on his behavior with the Eagles because I didn't have the love that I have now. I do believe that the media loves to have a story and will make one up if they have to (not saying they did but it's the whole Barry Bonds = steroids phenomena - get over it already). To justify my love for the man (or the boy as he is in my head - aside: he reminds me of my nephew; can't say why or how but something about his face gets me right there, man), I present you with this article: http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=alipour/080720. It's not sporty, so click on. Moral of the story: he's awesome.

He deserves a beautiful picture so I'm posting one for all to enjoy. Oh, and did I mention he's quite the snappy dresser? And funny? Dude's hilarious. Wearing the U.S. Postal Team outfit when he had to ride the exercise bike on the sidelines? Guffaw-worthy.

Speaking of renewable resources...

2008-07-17T12:36:00.003-05:00

If someone could figure out a way to turn human hair into an energy product, I could fuel the earth for centuries.

That's a fancy way of saying that I shed a lot hair. A lot. There are long, blonde hairs all over my work building and home. And last night they were all over my pilates mat, thanks to an inefficient hair tieback.

I haven't seen any sign of baldness so I'm guessing my hair officiall counts as a renewable resource. I command thy scientists to get on it!

Sleep is a luxury.

2008-07-16T13:35:00.002-05:00

I've been living on a lack of sleep for the past few weeks. At first I really felt it. You know, tired all the time, sleepy, etc. Now I barely notice. Getting 2 or 4 hours of sleep doesn't phase me at all anymore. One day this week I went to bed at 3 a.m., the next at 5 a.m., and last night, at about 1:30 a.m. (damn All Star game!) I decided to take an Excedrin PM since I was in no way tired.

Turns out that shit makes you weepy tired and then keeps you up all night hearing things. (I'm not at all about to admit it was possibly all the ghost shows I've been watching or the ants in my bathroom that made me soul-jarringly awake when I heard weird noises last night. It must have been the meds.) As a result I saw, or rather listened with eyes tightly shut, Sports Center about 5,000 times last night. I had to turn on the tv to shut out all the craziness in my head/ears.

To the delight of Regis' red pants on Regis & Kelly, I came in late to work today. Oops. Apparently Excedrin PM works much like my own sleep cycle - stay up all night only to really, really kick in about 7 a.m. Perhaps sleep is a defense mechanism for me, like my body is trying to tell me that the night is a good time - let's play! - but the morning is sleepy time, so don't you dare go to work, it's sleepy, sleepy time.

Luckily I'll be here until the cows come home (what time is that, exactly?), so it doesn't matter. I should really just get a night job.

Not that there's anything wrong with that...

2008-07-14T15:42:00.003-05:00

I've never dug the whole borderline homophobic Seinfeld episode where they harp on gay people and clean it all up with "not that there's anything wrong with that." The simple act of implying that there could be something "wrong" with being gay, although Seinfeld and his posse were way too cool to think such things (obviated by the constant need to defend their words and/or actions), always seemed to me to be more than a little offensive and hypocritical. It's like having a discussion about gay public affairs, current events, hell, even clubs or people you know but making sure to state that you (or me or them or whomever) are not gay. It's the guy who talks about going to a gay club one weekend but stressing how awkward he felt having guys hit on him. Or the girl who talks about girl-on-girl sex but follows it up with an explanation about how sexuality is more fluid with women, so same sex exploits don't equate with lesbianism.

All of this is a long way of saying that the above picture sucks. I like satire. I appreciate satire. I even love a good French farce (and don't lecture me on the difference between satire and farce - I know). But this? is not cool. The thing is that it's mainly not cool because it came from the New Yorker. I know this expectation of liberal open-mindedness from a pseudo-intelligensia magazine exposes some of my baser assumptions about media, and I guess that's the talking point to take away from all of this. I think racism is a real issue. I think we all have to constantly question our assumptions and thoughts about what is and is not okay about the way we think and portray ourselves (i.e. our externalization of our internal mechanisms).

I guess the moral of the story is that just because you consider yourself liberal, open-minded, non-racist (or non homophobic in Seinfeld's case) doesn't mean that a) you actually are (at least not always) and b) you get to be above reproach because you no longer clutch your purse tighter when a black man walks beside you.

And sometimes the response to the initial negative thing (the New Yorker says it's satiring all the misinformation out there) only creates a second, independent negative thing. But, like the editor from the New Yorker said on Morning Joe this morning, they totally didn't mean it that way. So you dumbasses out there who are offended, you're obviously not intelligent enough to read our magazine anyway. With that reassurance I guess we can all go back to reading our fancy media publications, drinking our lattes, and watching our Seinfeld re-runs. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Pet Peeves, Issue #435,598

2008-07-11T09:41:00.003-05:00

Pet Peeve: Guys who think they know better than girls because the topic is a "guy" type of topic, or better yet, because they have a penis.

Scenario: I'm in the elevator at work when two of my guy co-workers jump in. We all say hello, exchange pleasantries, etc. They continue on with their conversation re: money in Mexico (for one of the guy's upcoming vacation). I jump in the coversation - and while I'll admit that maybe is a bit impolite, these are two coworkers I'm very comfortable with and have lunch with - and mention that the dollar goes over better than the peso in Mexico in most places. Jackass coworker #1 says that if you throw a 10 peso at a person for a tip, they'll flip out and give you the best service ever. I laughed out loud and said that I was certain he'd get a better response from people if he tipped with dollars or at least more pesos than that. (I mean 10? Hello? That's $1.) They both looked at me and jackass #1 said "just give them a 10 peso," in a manner that strongly suggested I did not know of which I was speaking. And then they promptly went back to talking and completely ignored me the rest of the elevator ride and the walk through our floor as we were all going back to our offices.

I am a bit beyond pissed. In my grand, old age I'm beginning to have less desire to rein in my anger than perhaps I did when I used to run into situations like this frequently: in law school. In law school I would be so taken aback by such blatant behavior that I'd spend my time shocked that the situation was occuring. Then I learned to stop being shocked by bad behavior because it was inhibiting my ability to react. That's not to say I did anything more in this particular elevator. I didn't. I stood quietly as my opinions were derided because I was a girl and therefore couldn't possibly know anything about money. (Did I mention we work in a finance-related field?) Hence the livid anger. But! I was not shocked at the behavior and I knew exactly what was happening as it happened.

And don't worry. I'll have my revenge. I'm completely vindictive and passive-aggressive at work (when I'm not being aggressive-aggressive), and Jackass #1 will pay, most likely in a large group of our peers. The best payback is public payback.

Oh and again - hello? Do you know anyone, Mexico or not, that would bend over backwards for you for a $1 tip? I don't think so. It's not like they have no concept of money in Mexico. They know very well how much a $1 is. And they especially know how little 10 pesos are. So give me a goddamned break, jackass coworker #1.

I have blood underneath my fingernails.

2008-07-02T16:30:00.002-05:00

Gross.

But really it's my own fault. My boss was getting so excited (i.e. annoying) about a case that I got completely frustrated and took it out on a tiny, little, head itch. The least he could have done was leave me be so I could express my disgruntledness (word?) verbally but no. He had to stick around and make sure I thoroughly agreed with and enjoyed his excitement. As a result I have a self-inflicted injury. And I couldn't even yelp out loud when I did it because I was still in his presence. How do you tell someone you just scratched your head so hard that there's a high (although temporary) level of pain and blood? It just doesn't come out right.

On a different note, squishy and I are tied 1 to 1 in the epic battle of subpar baseball team series. And I'd still like to point out, even though the 'Stros played the Red Sox last weekend (and creamed 'em!), we still never made it to the front page of any non-local sports headline site, i.e. si.com or espn.com or yahoo.com or any other one you can think of.

It's official.

2008-07-01T14:24:00.002-05:00

I'm sending in an application for "Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?" And to prove I am not, I even had to look up the title of the gameshow to determine if "than" should be capitalized or not. Turns out I was right but I didn't know for sure. See, here's the thing. I could really use $25,000. I can think of no side job that would afford me that kind of cash, or at least I can think of no side job that I would do that would afford me that kind of cash. As I don't see any dying relatives in my future - or I should say any dying relatives who would a) have money and b) leave it to me - I've convinced myself a gameshow is the way to go.

I've thought about all the usual suspects: Millionaire & Jeopardy - not smart enough. That Truth show - not dumb enough. All the other gameshows are action oriented (i.e. dancing, singing, having a talent of some kind, trying to lure a man, staying alive for 6 weeks with a bunch of crazy people on an island, running a very physical race, etc., etc., etc.). So that leaves me with the 5th Grader show. I'll admit that I find Jeff Foxworthy's humor kind of hilarious, because I'm 10, although I haven't seen the show that many times. Maybe like 5 times altogether? But I think that's enough.

My only concern is that they'll be scared away by my advanced degree, but they really shouldn't be. In the few times I've seen the shows, I'm 50/50 (at best) on the questions. I did recently get a 3rd grade (I think) animal science question right about a woodpecker not pecking for wood but rather for insects underneath the wood. To be fair it was a T/F and I happen to know that most birdshit doesn't contain wood particles (if the exterior of my car is any indication). Really it was an educated guess not based on any actual knowledge to speak of.

The application is actually kind of involved. They want to know if you have a myspace "or similar" account. I don't think I should admit such things because what if they read something and (assuming I get chosen) say it out loud on the air for my mommy to hear? So maybe I'll say no to that one.

Another question asks: Even though it's not true, people always assume about me:

Um, how the hell should I know? One asshole at work once said he assumed I liked Britney Spears' music (back when it was very uncool to like BS), but I can't imagine very many people would assume such things about me, especially given my proclivity to give off the air of "music snob" even though I don't know shit.

Question: something about biggest risks I've taken. I definitely know I don't want to answer that one truthfully. Ouch. What's a good answer for that? Going all in at the final table of the 2005 World Series of Poker? Do you think they'd research that to see if it was true?

And shit. It wants to know if I have any surprising talents or tricks. If I did I'd be on that other gameshow with the Osborne chick.

This ones funny: "What type of organizations do you belong to? (Mensa, etc...)" hahaha! I was a member of Junior Mensa. Or at least my mom bought me a Junior Mensa puzzle game book. Does that count? (My mom's fascination with completely odd logic puzzles is almost the entire reason for my better than mediocre LSAT score.)

And finally it asks if I know anyone who graduated from an Ivy League school in the LA area? That's a bad sentence because if I didn't know better, I'd be confused as to whether they meant someone who lives in LA who went to an Ivy League school or someone who graduated from an LA Ivy League school. Luckily I know what they mean and I'm slightly insulted. Are they using my application to try and recruit smarter people to their show? Seriously uncool.

Oh and they want my SAT scores. I think I can definitely lie on those. But should I lie higher or lower? I can't tell what the purpose of this application is! Should I appear smarter or dumber than I really am? Because obviously the truth would never work.

Driving a Prius - for 2 days

2008-06-26T17:31:00.003-05:00

I'm officially done with the Prius. I turned it back in to the rental car place.* I've learned I'm not a Prius person. I used to think I was one but I'm not. I never got used to pushing a button to turn the car on, to shifting gears at face level, to pushing the car, via button, into park, to feeling the shuddering as the engine switched randomly back and forth from electric to gas motor, and I never got used to the fleeting feeling of panic anytime I wanted to change the a/c temp or change the radio station (because it was in some weird computer screen form, you see). I also managed to turn the Prius into a gas guzzler, at least by Prius standards. When I got the car it was doing about 44 mpg - not bad. As I drove it along, I managed to hit the high, high average of 35 to 37. I'm not saying that's a bad mpg, that's great. But for a Prius? Not so much. And I have no clue how I did it. I blame it on the air conditioning. I don't think hybrid cars are made to sit in traffic in the Texas heat, especially on 100+ degrees days. Oh and the really loud beeping that filled the car everytime I used the knob to put the car in reverse? Terribly annoying.

All that said, I did feel a certain smugness at times, like squishy suggested. I think the Prius gives you a superiority complex on the road, like you know all those other cars are burning through their fuel while you're obsessing about battery power. It's like an immediate "I break for lower dependence on foreign oil sources" bumper sticker. It's pretty much like the feeling you get when you send out charity cards at xmas time (i.e. the local food bank xmas cards saying a donation was made in your name, etc., etc., etc.). Wait. It's even better than that. It's more like wearing an "I Voted" sticker while handing out food to the homeless, all while you're volunteering at a big brothers/big sisters event. Yeah, it's more like that.

Don't everyone go buy a Prius now. Toyota car salespeople are already too smug. If I see another one on CNN talking about waiting lists, I just might hurl. Car salespeople are made to be despised and unhappy, not satiated and content. The two just don't mesh. Go buy a truck. Those guys are definitely frustrated and angry. I bet you'll get a better deal too.

*The rental car place is in a nearby hotel and I went to return the car in my pilates outfit as I was about to go to pilates. The hotel was apparently hosting some kind of golfers/drunkard convention and - I'm guessing for shits and giggles - the hotel blocked off all of my normal exits with huge black curtains. As a result I began to frantically pull back tall pieces of fabric in an insane attempt to flee the middle-aged men and frosted women, an attempt in which I was unsuccessful. I ended up scaling the perimeters of the hotel lobby and finding myself in some kind of alley where cars were entering and exiting at great speeds. I didn't care. At least I was out. Lesson of the week: avoid hotel lobbies in downtown areas in the middle of the week. It's a carnival, i.e. where all the carnies (freaks aka middle-aged men and divorcees) hang out.

I'm sad and random dribble about vehicles.

2008-06-23T16:10:00.003-05:00

My new car? Stopped working yesterday for a brief period of time. Apparently it's a battery issue, although all the lights still worked and it's working now. But really. How much is it to ask for a car that doesn't break down every five seconds? I thought shelling out my spending money each month (i.e. shopping now = car payment) would solve the problem but I guess not.

And now I'm driving a Prius rental car (for work, not because of my car) and it's plain 'old weird. I couldn't figure out how to control anything for the first 10 minutes or so (a/c, radio, rear windshield wiper, etc.). Finally, after changing the language on the computer screen thing to French I realized all the controls were on the steering wheel. While it's convenient for the driver, the passenger has no control whatsoever, which I don't like. Not because I want my passengers to have control over temperature or radio controls but because I like to have control over those things when I'm a passenger. I'm totally one of those people who changes your radio station and points all the air on you, the driver. But if any of my friends drive a Prius, I'm shit out of luck.

I really like riding in my mom's car, for instance, because it has a seat warmer. Sometimes I have to vacate my seat for my grandmother and she gets all freaked out because her ass is hot. She always thinks the car is about to explode or she's having some kind of butt attack. I, in the backseat, giggle uncontrollably like a 4 year-old kid. I do love seat warmers.

Explain god's people to me.

2008-06-20T15:19:00.002-05:00

How can a person (or people) go around quoting scripture and be WWJD all over the place and still get the big stuff so fucking wrong?

I'm not into god or all that spirituality stuff (although if I keep getting scared by ghost shows I might have to revisit some things), but I'm down with Jesus.* He was a cool enough guy I guess. Or, at least, the version people created was cool enough. So why do certain people spend their lives memorizing bible verses, decorating their houses with crosses, making cookies for church groups, and all that good "christian" stuff but still not get what the whole thing is about?

Here's what I have to say about it all: I'm rubber and you're glue. Whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you. Bastard.**

*I'm referring to Christian gods in this post because I'm specifically referring to Christians. I'm down with some of the other dieties as well.

**I can't say all the details I really want to say because there's a very slight chance someone might read this. And although I'm right about the thing I'm right about, I'm nice enough to not destroy certain people over it.

Since I need it and this is a horrible post to end the week on:

You're welcome.

I see dead people.

2008-06-18T15:22:00.002-05:00

So. I don't believe in ghosts. I don't not believe in ghosts. I've gone on "haunted" tours, I've taken pictures and seen the little boy in the window, I've seen the "spots," and none of those things has convinced me one way or the other. But then I started watching Paranormal State and Psychic Kids on A&E. And, umm, that shit freaks me the fuck out! There, I've said it. I'm now officially afraid of the dark.

I found Paranormal State on my A&E On Demand last night. Who knew they even had A&E on demand? Anyway. I watched 3 episodes in a row and there was a whole thing about how you weren't supposed to say this demon's name out loud. It sounds silly and truthfully it probably was but all last night? I had dreams that people kept trying to say this devil person's name out loud and if they did it would come get me. For someone who doesn't believe in god, much less the devil, this makes no sense. Logical? No. Terrifying? Yes.

Here's a clip from one of the shows I saw involving the "demon," if you will:

Now let us move on to Psychic Kids. I have no clue if mediums or psychics really exist. I'm neither. At least I hope not, because if I am some demon is coming to visit me. *shudder* I watched what I think was the first (or second?) episode the other night. One girl was 8 and her name was Faith. She was haunted by a little boy named Freddie (dead) and his mean mother Catherine (also dead). This girl gave exact dates as to when they died (1880s I think?), how, where, the exact spelling of their names, etc. The crack research team at Psychic Kids found some census information that basically proved the 8 year-old was talking about people that actually existed at one time. I'm not saying it was a hoax but if that 8 year-old girl is faking, she's a lot smarter than I was at that age.

And then there was JoAnn (I think?). She was 12 and dreamed about the meeting place where the show was taking all the psychic kids. And guess what? The drawing of the place she dreamed about? Was almost an exact replica of where they went. And it wasn't just a normal house or something. It was this old timey shop thing that looked nothing like the rest of the town they were in (where she'd never been before, at least according to the show).

Finally there was a 3rd girl who was 11ish. She wasn't nearly as interesting as the other two because she could just read people's auras and predict their death. Whatevs.

Here's a clip fo these kids and I think I got the part where the girl dreams about the place they're going to:

I'm back to my original point. I don't know if ghosts are real or not but a) shows about them are freaking scary and b) I'm beginning to have dreams about ghost shows*.

*Secret confession: I'm only slightly afraid that if I think about ghosts too much I'll become one of those people who can see them and then I'll have to think they're real and I'll be haunted. Not cool, man.

It was a very bad week...

2008-06-16T11:15:00.003-05:00

I almost broke up with my boyfriend.

I almost disowned my parents and severed our relationship.

I almost crashed my car, potentially fatally, to collect the insurance money.

I almost got fired due to fits of hysteria and excessive mental absences.

I almost lost a limb.

I almost shed a tear several times.

But now it's over. And here is both the cause (partially) and the salvation of my bad, horrible, no-good week:

Hyundai Elantra - only mine's in black pearl (sparkly black to be exact)

It's nothing fancy but it's new and it's mine! And I put enough of a down payment down that my monthly budget will not be altered significantly. It has new car smell and I only slightly feel like I'm driving in a clown car, which, given that my previous vehicle felt something like a coffin (a fact I enjoyed immensely but apparently was not popular with the passengers), is no small feat.

I feel very sad about losing my old car. It was 8 years old and a gift from my dad for graduating college. It was an old school sports car, to say the very least, and I miss the way the engine would roar when I just slightly pushed the gas peddle. I also miss my beautiful dings and scratches that meant I could attempt to fit my car in any parking spot available (instead of searching for the farthest spot with no chance of door dings like I have to do now). I miss the rows of bumper stickers (all political) that I'd decided my car needed, what with the aforementioned dings and scratches. I miss the Care Bear (Good Luck Bear!) smelly thing that hung from the rearview mirror. I miss the longhorn sticker that looked at me every time I looked out the back window. I miss the way I could throw a napkin in the back seat and not worry about trashing my new car. I miss how none of the windows never got one, tiny crack in them even though rocks were always bouncing off of them. *tear*

I do not miss the driver's side window that would not roll down. I do not miss the way the gas gauge moved at will from E to F with no bearing to the amount of gas in the tank. I do not miss the way the speakers crackled if I turned up the volume just slightly. I do not miss the bruises I got on my arms (and the cuts on my hands) from trying to change the spark plug wireset, which I never managed to change. I do not miss the weird smell of mildew that seemed to take over when it rained, which wasn't a huge problem because it hardly rains here in Texas. I do not miss the huge dent on the passenger side door from when I accidentally ran into my apartment building. I don't miss the scratches on the driver's side door where G tried to scrape off ice even though I told him not to.

But you know, it's really the little things that make owning a non-crappy car nice. (My car was not originally crappy but after 8 years, although it hurts me to say it, it was pretty crappy.) I went to the drive through bank Friday and was so excited that I called my mom. We both cheered. It was a good feeling.

Oh and did I mention I made a kick ass deal for the new car? I did all my research and ended up paying about $400 over invoice price. I'll accept accolades, statues, and national holidays in my name, thank you.

Book reviews

2008-06-06T13:32:00.003-05:00

I've read a few books lately and I have no one to talk to about them so I'm going to review them here. They were all good, so I guess it's not so much a review as a description.

Chasing Harry Winston by Lauren Weisberger - this was a good chicklit book. I went to her book signing/reading and almost finished the book the same night. It was entertaining, engrossing, and I didn't feel dumber and/or lamer for having read it. What more can you ask for from chicklit?

The Lady Elizabeth by Alison Weir
Good historical fiction. Alison Weir is a great non-fiction writer. She writes mainly British royal family non-fic but it's superb. This is her second fiction attempt and it's pretty good as well. There are a couple of sexy spots but I think that's to be expected. Because she's researched Elizabeth so much, she really brings a lot of authenticity to the work. You can read this and not feel like you're being sucked in by a sketchy basis in fact, at best, like The Other Boelyn Girl.

Eleanor of Aquitane by Alison Weir
This is a non-fiction book and if you're at all interested in Richard the Lionheart, British royal history, the Crusades, etc., you should read this book. I didn't really know who she was, to be honest, before I found her on wikipedia on one of my wild "I have to know more on this subject right now!" clicking frenzies, but I think she could be one of my new feminist icons. She's awesome. She was married to the French king, had a couple of furture queens, divorced him, married the English king, had a few more future kings and queens, planned a coup, went to prison, ruled through her sons, and all the while managed to maintain control of her own lands (most of present day France) as their pseudo-queen. And, like I said above, Alison Weir writes great non-fiction. She really keeps you engrossed in everything that's happening. It doesn't feel like non-fiction at all.

Shortcomings by Adrian Tomine
I've never been huge into graphic novels mainly because I don't know that much about them and not many of my friends read them. But this one was excellent. It's brief, which I liked for my first graphic novel try, and the story, although in cartoon form, is really believable. I read it shortly after I read one of Margaret Cho's books, and they both gave me a bit of insight into the modern, Asian-American culture. If you don't read any of the others one I suggest, read this one. I found this one on the NYTimes 100 best of 2007 list.

On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan
I think this is actually a novella, although I didn't count the pages or anything to be sure. I read Atonement along with the rest of America and I have to say I'm not the biggest McEwan fan. I'm not really sure why I picked this book up except that I'd read it on the NYTimes list as well. I'm glad I did. I honestly didn't think I was going to get a chance to read it before it was due back at the library, but I jumped at it on my lunch break the day it was due and finished it in an hour or so. I skipped a tiny bit (due to time) and if you read it you'll see where, but all in all, it was wonderful. I mean, it was horrible, the story, but the book was wonderful. I zoomed over to the McEwan website afterwards to see what others were saying about the book. I can't say much without giving it away but there are some subtleties in the story that are left to your imagination to determine if they actually happened. I was happy to find out I was right about most things and I learned a few more from other readers on that site. I guess it's been on several book club reading lists or something? I don't know but it's definitely one of those that leave you thinking when you put it down.

I have another stack of books I'm making my way through right now and I'm sure belabor the point and write more about them when I'm done. I'm a total spurt reader. I either read nothing or read everything I can get my hands on. Right now I'm reading - maybe it's the lack of good tv? Gossip Girl does make my brain a little numb...

Why am I horrible?

2008-06-04T18:14:00.002-05:00

I just had a conversation with the bf. I told him J was in FL today on vacay. They flew out this morning and I said, "I haven't heard about any plane crashes, so I guess they made it okay." He told me it was horrible for me to say that and that I was horrible for saying that. Why? He couldn't/wouldn't explain and quickly got off the phone with me after saying if I didn't understand why it was horrible then he wouldn't be able to explain it to me.

So why is what I said so horrible? I find it relieving to know that if a plane crashes or if some dastardly event occurs, I'll know about it on the news practically instantaneously. Conversely, if I don't hear of such things I know everything is a-okay. I don't believe in fate so I don't feel like I'm tempting fate by saying such things so what is it? Doesn't every feel a bit of relief when a close friend/relative is traveling somewhere and you haven't heard of a plane crash happening when they were in the air? Am I really the only one who thinks like this? And does it make me horrible to say it out loud?

Blech. Now I'm confused...

SATC - The Movie

2008-06-03T15:24:00.003-05:00

I saw SATC Saturday night. It was a fun girls' night out. (I know people are making fun of those of us who used a movie about sex and overly priced consumer goods as an excuse for a girls' night but I say fuck off to those people. It was fun and I enjoyed it.)

We got dressed up to go to a semi-fancy restaurant and wine bar. We spiced up our wardrobe a tad in a nod to SATC itself, but mainly we dressed up for the dinner and bar portion of the evening. Except for J. She wore "beach-ware," as she described it. I did find a home for my beautiful Arden B shirt that is too small for my boobs and that I waited to long to take back. My friend L was wearing a similar color and it looked amazing on her. So she gets my beautiful, ruffly, sparkly, cleavage-creating shirt. I hope her bf appreciates it.

I wore a pretty, blue-green, vintage dress I got in NYC last summer (or was it the summer before?) and a pair of awesome, yellow wedges from Target. I put on extra eyeliner and earrings I normally don't wear because they're slightly heavy, and I'm terrified I'm going to have droopy earlobes when I get old. And, to top it all off, I wore my huge cocktail ring to show that I meant business (i.e. having fun with my girls and drinking as much as I wanted).

I'm here to defend SATC and my money-spending ladies on two fronts:

1) SATC was not a horrible movie like a lot of reviews are making it out to be. Yes there was consumerism and yes they made questionable choices in story-telling, but all in all, I really liked the female friendships in the film, which is what I think the show was always all about, no matter how many times Samantha sexed, Charlotte married, Miranda bitched, or Carrie pouted. In that regard, it did its job. I even cried a bit. (I mostly kept it in check and hid my face though, because I didn't want to get skewered by my ladies. They're very quick to point out my emotional neediness when it rears its ugly head - probably because I reap what I sew but that's another story.)

2) Women have just as much say over what movie will do well opening weekend as men, if not more so. I will occasionally see a movie I'm not terribly jazzed about with the bf, but I'm much more likely to put the kabosh on a film than he is. For Matt Lauer to get on the Today Show and talk about how men must have wanted to see SATC after all (since it topped the box office) is ignorant and slightly degrading. Women see movies by themselves. Women see movies with their girlfriends. Women make decisions about what movies to see with their significant others/guy friends. Women make enough money to buy their own movie ticket. Women make up more than 50% of the population of the U.S. Women watch god damned movies and are a fucking voice in this economy, okay? Okay. Perhaps one day when women are in charge of the movie companies, some of this dismissive attitude will change. Until then, suck it movie execs. You do me no favors.

*breathes in and out, in and out*

Oh and my tiny secret? I've always secretly hated Manolos. I think they look too old and frumpy for my tastes. I know that's not a popular opinion but I've yet to run into a pair that I thought was worth all the hype and/or money. And they're not well made. (This is not my opinion of all designer shoes, just MB in particular.)

I'm sad.

2008-05-29T16:28:00.002-05:00

I have to return Freaks and Geeks to the library. *sniffle*

On the upside, my bf offered to buy me a Wii yesterday. How awesome is that? Know what's not so awesome? My damn pride and inability to let people buy me things without me buying them things in return. So I said no.

But secretly? I really want a Wii so I can play rock band in my living room to my heart's content - by myself. And play all the Mario games. Now I'm sad and lame. Nice.

I hate hot holidays.

2008-05-27T15:35:00.004-05:00

I do. It's true. Memorial Day? Blows. 4th of July? Sucks ass. Labor Day? Slightly better than stepping in fresh dog doo.

It's not that I mind the sentiment behind the days. I'm all for memorliazing, celebrating independence, and the like, but why the hell do they have to be in the middle of the summer when it's so freaking' hot? This country is built around outdoor vacationing. Grand canyon? Outdoors. BBQs? Outdoors. Fireworks? Again, outdoors. These outdoor loving holidayers (is that a word?) have never had to holiday outdoors in Texas. Because it's hot. And when I say hot, I mean an Inferno type of hot. It was 98+ the entire weekend with like 1000% humidity. I don't know about anyone else but that equates horror to me - uncomfortable horror at that.

Mind you I didn't do the typical outdoor activities mentioned above for Memorial Day, but I did participate in the normal holiday hubris - sale shopping. And it was hot. Did I mention that? Did I also mention I have a black car that traps heat like a coffin? (Or what I'd imagine a coffin to trap heat like anyway.) Everywhere I went was hot. It was disgusting. It was so disgusting that I couldn't bring myself to hit Sephora, which is a thing unheard of in my world. I was tempted to go to the movies by myself during the day on Monday because it was so disgustingly hot. I figured the movie theatre would be cool and dark.. and cool. Only the movie theatre was so packed and I was so annoyed at driving around for 20 minutes looking for a parking space that I gave up and went home where I locked all the doors, closed the blinds, turned off all the lights, and turned my ac down very low. Guess what? It was still hot. I hate hot holidays.

If the powers that be are reading this, I still like the day off but can we please try and encourage more indoor activities like bowling or board games or something like that? I'd be much more apt to participate if I knew I didn't have to chance seeing shorts on men.

And it's out.

2008-05-22T14:32:00.002-05:00

I have a new niece. Her name is Chloe Grace. J has enlightened me on the problems that arise from naming a kid a virtue, so there's that. But the Chloe part is nice. And I'm fairly certain my brother and SIL don't know who the Kardashians are - another good point.

She weighed in at 8 lbs, 14 oz. She's huge! And she's 21" long. That's long, right? I mean, I wouldn't want an almost 2 foot long thing inside of me. (I wouldn't want any kind of "thing" inside me but that's another topic altogether.)

She was all puffy and stay-puff-mashmellow-manish and she had an eerie purple glow about her, but by the time we started to leave the hospital in the evening she was beginning to look like a normal baby.

FYI: don't go look in the nursery when the baby makes their first trip there. The mean nurses stick utensils up the baby's butt, poke them with sharp needles, and scrub their poor, little head with a loofa. Boo to mean baby nurses! I wonder what they shoot them with? Rana - any help? I never knew babies got a shot immediately after they were born.

My brother has 5 kids now. Take a moment to ingest that. 5 kids. It's completely bizarre. They were all there at the hospital for pictures and introductions and what not. It was a nice scene.

And then. I won't go into the details but suffice to say that I love my mother and she is a much better person than I will ever be. Don't get me wrong, she's completely batshit crazy sometimes, but I know I can never have the patience and strength that she has. She's a much better person than me. As I sat in the backseat of our car (filled with my mom, my dad, my oldest nephew, and my grandmother), completely filled with rage and practically bruising myself to keep my mouth shut, I gained a whole new level of respect for my mom. My dad better not give her cancer with his goddamned cigar smoking. (That last bit was a completely unrelated aside.)

So there were some highs yesterday and there were some serious lows. I'm choosing the forget the lows and focus on the highs. Yea a baby! Yea a newfound respect for the mom! Yea a baby!

And um, is it wrong that I want to hug and kiss the baby and make her love me more than anyone else? I don't want to breastfeed her or buy her clothes or anything but unadulterated, compulsive love? Yeah, I'll take that.

Apparently I only hear what I want to hear.

2008-05-20T14:06:00.002-05:00

So sayeth the mother.

Background: my brother is about to have his 5th kid. Typo? Nope. He's on wife #2 and this is her 3rd kid with him. Alot of numbers? Yep. They're due Wednesday. (They? When did pregnancy become his and hers? She's the one pushing a disgusting, covered-in-all-kinds-of-bodily-fluids thing out of her special place. How does he get to lay claim to this?) This pregnancy has created all kinds of hilarity and um, other stuff, some of which I've posted about. For instance I was home for Mother's Day the other weekend and my dad was talking to my brother on the phone. I hear: "She lost her what?" and then my dad abruptly hands the phone to my mother. I asked him what my brother was talking about. My dad tried to act like it was no big deal but I could see the involuntary shudder as he repeated: "She lost her mucus plug." I don't want to be 12 or anything but... ewwwwwww!!!! (My dad is not Hank Hill but it's the closest cartoon character out there that comes close to describing him, so you can imagine what it took for him to repeat the phrase "mucus plug" to me.)

Anyway. Back to my original story.

So Sunday night my mom calls me about 10:30 (middle of the night for her) to tell me my SIL is having contractions and all that jazz. We decide to reconvene in the morning (because my mom doesn't want to sit at a hospital all night) to see how things are going. In my mind contractions = birth, so I'm thinking they're having the baby that night.

Monday morning rolls around and I speak with my mom around 7:30 a.m. I specifically ask her if she's talked to my brother. I want to know if the baby's born yet or what. She says she has not talked to him since the night before but to get my stuff together and meet her at my grandmother's house (a halfway point where we'll rendezvous before going to the hospital). I repeatedly call her over the course of the early morning asking if she's heard from my brother. Everytime I call she tells me she has not talked to him. I call in to work and tell them I'll be out because the bro is having the baby and all that (I prepared them ahead of time that I travel to family events like these). As I'm in my car driving towards my grandmother's (over an hour away), I decide to call my brother myself to see if he'll answer my call.

He does and he tells me they're still at home because the doctor won't see them until they meet "criteria," whatever the hell that means. Oh, okay. So they're not at the hospital and they haven't had the baby yet and for all that, it could be days before the baby comes (or at least until Wednesday when they'll induce if necessary).

All of that is fine except that I've already taken off work and I'm on my way out of town. I decide I'll turn around, head back to work, and explain the situation to my boss. He won't care. I also decide I should call my mom and let her know what's up so she doesn't rush off to the hospital. I call her and her reaction? "Oh yeah, I knew all of that." Me: How did you know that, Mom? Her: I talked to your brother this morning.

WTF??? Why the fuck was she telling me to travel over an hour to meet her to go to the hospital when she knew nothing was happening? And why did she keep telling me she hadn't spoken with my brother and knew absolutely nothing when in fact she'd talked to him and knew absolutely everything? And why the fuck (did I mention that word already?) was she telling me to waste my precious, precious gas to come meet her when I'd have to turn around and go home when there was. no. baby.?!?!

Her reaction to my outrage? To tell me that she had indeed told me she talked to him. And not only had she told me she'd talked to him but she'd told me what he said (i.e. no baby yet). I very politely (ahem) disagreed with her and she informed me that she wasn't going to argue with me, because I only hear what I want to hear.

You know what? I'll tell you about 5,000 things I did not want to hear: 1) I did not want to hear that I had to call in to work when in fact I did not; 2) I did not want to hear that I had to drive halfway out of town when I did not; 3) I did not want to hear that I had to get up early out of my comfy bed to go to a hospital where a baby was not coming; 4) I did not want to hear that I had to put on make-up on a Monday morning (a task I usually leave until Thursday) when in fact I did not. (Because, see, if there was a new baby there would be pictures.); 5) I did not want to hear that I had to wear contacts on a Monday morning, which I usually don't wear due to the overuse they get on weekends, when in fact I did not. (Again, pictures. And a lot of driving in a lot of sun = sunglasses = need for contacts.); 6) I did not want to hear that I had to coat my entire body with spf because I was going to be driving in the sun all day and I can't afford to have any more cleavage wrinkles (thanks again J) when in fact I did not have to wear spf on my boobs at all, given the short, short drive to my work on normal mornings; and 7) I did not want to hear that apparently my mother is completely, out of her mind crazy, because she doesn't have long term healthcare insurance and I do not want to take care of her ass.

*brushes sweat and furrow off brow* I feel better now.

I missed Bea Arthurs Birthday!

2008-05-15T12:23:00.003-05:00

How could I? I'm such a bad fan. It was two days ago and over at thebestweekever.com they have her top 10 moments. In honor of her birthday and the upcoming SATC reunion, I thought I'd post this video: Bea's take on SATC. Although, to be accurate, Golden Girls was the original SATC so no remade needs to be made... but since it is:

My errant phone is embarrassing.

2008-05-14T14:11:00.004-05:00

I had Pilates this morning. I woke up at 5 a.m. with a head pounding and ovaries hashing it out over unpaid electricity bills. (I named my ovaries Stella and Joe. I figured it was very Tennessee Williams-esque up in there, so I named them accordingly. Stella and Joe decide to get angry and fight about stupid shit about once every three months. They used to fight more frequently but they've been on anti-depressants so it's now down to a few times a year. When they fight they throw everything out of their vacation home and toss it down the garbage shoot. It's annoying but ya know, ovaries/uteran vacation homes, right? What are you going to do?)

Needless to say I was not in the mood to be all bendy this morning - especially at a god awful early hour. I decided to text J and tell her I wouldn't be making it. My phone has a tendency to send my text messages to random people. I'll specifically pick someone from my contact list to text and when it's sending it will send a message to my mom, for instance. This morning I was very careful and pulled J's name out of my contact list. I deliberately typed: "Period. Headache. Gross. Staying in." As I was tossing the phone back into its trusty bedside drawer (where it sleeps), it starts singing at me tell me I have a return message. I look and it's from my gay boyfriend C. Love him! He writes me: "And it's raining. I'm staying in too."

Shit. My phone sent my period excuse text not only not to J but also to a boy! Argh! Luckily it's C and he totally understands but still. Is it really necessary for my phone to inform my entire contact list of the goings-on of Stella and Joe?

I need a new phone...

I'm a natural disaster dream hoarder...

2008-05-08T14:45:00.004-05:00

Back when Katrina happened I had nightmares that the city I was living in was flooded - like Noah's Ark flooded. I had them repeatedly. I have various other natural disaster dreams anytime I focus too much on how terrifying it must be to have your world destroyed by forces you can't control, i.e. mother nature.

Give the above precipice, I had a dream last night involving a huge tornado that started out looking like a hurricane on a doppler map. I was in a high rise hotel (or apartment building?) when I looked out the wall of windows and realized a huge ass tornado (in my dream I called it a twister) was coming right towards the building. I grabbed the two people I was with and high-tailed it to the stairwell. While I was doing so I called the front desk and told them a tornado was heading for us and for everyone to get in the stairwell. (In my dream I was secretly slapping myself on the back for being so prepared with all my tornado safety knowledge.)

We were in the stairwell when the tornado hit. It hit the building and made a sound not unlike a really big bird thudding into a window in my office building. Then the building started going down. Not down like an imploded casino or something but down like the you'd imagine the leaning tower of piza would go down - all sideways and what not. In my head, again, I started thinking about how in Titanic Jack knew exactly what to tell Rose to do when the boat hit the water (a-I'm very cerebral in my dreams and b-Titanic, wtf?), and I started panicking. I realized I have no safety knowledge on what to do if a building falls down. It occured to me that we should probably have run down a few flights of stairs to get closer to the ground but it was too late at that point. I also, in my dream, moved the vending machine (that was naturally in the stairwell) to the direction the building was going down so it wouldn't smush us. (I've watched a lot of Black Sheep in my time.) But other than that? I had nothing. It was terrifying.

The last thing I thought before I woke up? As I was huddling in a corner with other girls (all girls in this dream and I was the Alpha), I thought that I should probably try to call my mom and tell her I love her because I might die there. But then I thought that my cell probably doesn't get very good reception in the middle of tornado. And then I woke up.

This dream has created several results in its cause and affect nature.

1) I'm extremely tired today due to lack of sleep. Everytime I tried to go back to sleep this morning I was in a falling building in the middle of a tornado.

2) It created a desire for a new phone plan that has all the fancy text messaging for free, so I can contact people in a tornado. I text now but it costs $$$ and if I'm going to be having natural disaster dreams, I really need to be secure in my ability to text and check email for free, ya know? Less potential catastrophes in nightmare land.

3) The dream made me wonder if it was a bad omen or something. Is this a sign that I should put off girls' night and get new tires before my long, car trip home tomorrow morning?

4) Perhaps I actually should buy one of those Worst Case Scenario books. I like to be prepared and it seems I know shit about falling buildings. I bet that's in there somewhere.

5) When I called my mom over lunch to tell her what a sweet daughter she had in that my last thought before death was to call my dear mother and tell her I love her, she replied, "hmmm, I don't know how cell phones react in the middle of tornado. I've never had anyone call me during one."

Three cheers for Mother's Day! (I don't know the html tags for sarcasm but they should be entered before three and after day. Oh and probably before and after this parenthetical reference.)

Too many gifts to buy in May!!

2008-05-06T16:26:00.002-05:00

I have a ton of occasions this month. Since everyone else gets away with lists, here's mine:

1. B's bday - bird theme: bird necklace (by the Naughty Secretary's Club - they're not naughty, just crafty) and a parrot beer bottler opener (opens bottles with its beak).

2. Cousin's college graduation - umm.... necklace? I have no clue. She's getting a trip to Hawaii from her parents and she really doesn't like anything material, so what? I have no clue. She's a recently converted Dem and has no clue what to do with her life, so maybe Colbert's book? Her graduation is on Saturday. I'm totally stalling!

3. Mother for Mother's Day - DVDs. She was easy and very specific. Now I just have to buy one more to complete her list. Apparently she's decided she likes musicals. I threw out a couple of choices and she hadn't ever heard of them. Musicals indeed. Translation: The Sound of Music.

4. Grandmother for Mother's Day - an umbrella. Sounds bizarre but she wants one. A "cool one" as she put it. I'm pretty sure my definition of cool and hers are not at all the same. I got her some other summer/outdoorsy things to go along with it.

5. Brother's Bday - inflatable moose head. He's big into hunting (although the only thing he's ever killed was on a hunting ranch thing, comparable to a loaded lake for fishing). He has two deer heads hanging in his living room. I can't believe his wife let him put them in there (haha! once a bird flew in their house and perched/shit on the antlers of one of them), but maybe she has pregnant brain and wasn't coherent enough to put up a fight. Anyway. I'm always giving him shit about having dead animals on display (I think it's vulgar, tacky, and plain old disgusting), and an inflatable moose head is just what he needs.

6. Brother's 5th kid, bday tba - she's due this month so I have to come up with a gift. I already bought a couple of onesies in newborn, 3 months, and 6 months sizes. What else? I can't afford anything on her registry (see earlier post) and one of her friends already got her all the bath stuff I was planning on buying. She'll have a new baby when I give it to her. She won't care about gifts. Right?

7. JM's bday - oh god. I have no clue what to buy. I think pretty much everything he likes is crap (sorry JM but it's no secret), so what should I get him? See he's into toys. All kinds of annoying, blinking, drive-you-to-drinking toys. I guess I'll go to the local toy store and buy the thing that's most likely to give me a seizure. That ought to work.

8. Nephew's hs graduation - my aunt gave me $100 when I graduated high school. I thought I was rich. Hell, I'd still think I was rich if someone gave me that for a gift. I cannot afford to give my nephew that much $$$ for a gift. I'm poor. I'd volunteer to pay for half of his books when he registers for college (thus delaying the gift-giving although it would be substantially more than $100), but given his desire to do absolutely nothing (legal), it might be a crappy gift. 'Cause he wouldn't use it, see? 'Cause he might not go to college? I suppose I'll just give him cash but I'm afraid of what he'll use it on. Oh well. Not my business I suppose.

Great. Now I'm depressed.

On Chesil Beach

2008-05-06T16:17:00.002-05:00

I just finished reading On Chesil Beach. (I don't know how to accentuate book names so I'm italicizing. Forgive me if I'm wrong. I feel like it should be underlined but that looks dumb.) It's a short novel by Ian McEwan (of Atonement fame). It was on the NYTimes list of 100 greatest books in 2007, so I picked it up on my last trip to the library. Of course I haven't finished reading any of the books I checked out, but when I went to renew them online I realized someone else requested OCB and I can't renew it! So it's due back Thursday. Today is Tuesday. Guess what I did over lunch? Read OCB. It's that short.

It's really quite good. I read Atonement and saw the movie but I never really got the hype. Obviously McEwan is a great writer but it wasn't really my cup of tea. There was too much of modern lit in there for me to fully appreciate it. I can't stand all the sacky, emotional, whiny crap that goes into most modern fiction. (By sacky I mean balls and their apparatus/containers.) But I really enjoyed OCB. Maybe it's because it's about sex, maybe it's because it's short, or maybe it's because it's good. I'm not sure. Either way, I highly recommend it if you're into two virgins doing it for the very first time on their wedding night, a night which ends very disastrously due to the above description.

It just goes to prove that you really should do it for the first time in high school when everything is awkward to begin with. It saves everyone a lot of trouble.

I learned something new on Saturday night.

2008-05-01T16:28:00.002-05:00

I saw Baby Mama - or is it Mamma? - Saturday night and I learned what a "taint" is. I had to ask but that's what asking is for, no? My friend J tried to tell me it was your perineum but I didn't know what that was either. I am stoopid. But a little more thorough explanation helped me figure it out. I call it the "you've missed" spot but apparently that's what taint means anyway (an ineffectual stab with a lance).

Don't say I never taught you anything. Or maybe you already knew. Oh well. Consider yourself refreshed.

I'm either the best or the worst coworker evah!

2008-04-30T12:51:00.002-05:00

I had a salmon pouch for lunch. Ever try one of those? They're right by the tuna fish in the "canned meat" aisle. It was my first foree into pouched meat. It was disgusting. Not as disgusting as that sun-dried tomato/basil tuna turned out to be but gross enough to keep me from enjoying it's cheap, cheap price and protein-rich nutritional stats.

Anyway. I had to heat the salmon in the microwave and I through the pouch away (and some of the pouch juice) in the nearby trashcan. We have a real kitchen in our office and a mini-kitchen in our division of the office. This was in the mini-kitchen, which is also conveniently located right in the middle of a few offices.

I could possibly be the worst coworker ever because I put a pouch of fish in a trashcan that's sure to offend many people. I could be the best coworker ever because as soon as I finished my salmon (ugh!) I realized if the smell of the napkin I'd used was nauseating, I'm sure the trashcan I'd deposited the pouch into was waaaay worse. So I took out the trash. At work. See how great I am? I put our trash in the big kitchen's trash bin but no matter. I still removed it from the office area. That's what's important right?