The grass is always greener...

...on the other side of the fence.

When I took this photo at Mt. Vernon last April, I didn't really think about the metaphor I was capturing at the time. I just thought it was adorable how this sheep -- who had a variety of grass available to him on his side of the fence -- was willing to stick his head through the fence to get to the blades that looked most succulent, juicy, and, well, downright tasty.

Having eaten grass (I was a weird kid, what can I say?), I probably woudn't have made the same choice. Then again, my grass eating days are long-over, and I don't think grass was all that tasty to begin with. If it had been the difference between a chocolate sundae and spinach, you guys know how I would have gone.

But the sheep does bring up a good point -- as good as any that a sheep can, I suppose. All my life, I've been looking for "more." More money, a different career, a new city to live in. That's why I've been working so much overtime at my current job and writing a novel when I get home. Like the sheep, I've got my feet firmly planted on the ground in my current situation, but, inch by inch, pieces of me are heading in a new direction. It'll take some risks and some time, but I have confidence that every part of me -- from tip to tail -- will someday be on the other side of that fence. I'm just terrified that as soon as that happens, I'll want to get back...

West Wing, part 2

I put the photos that I took back in March in a Photostory. Here's the final result...

On JonBenet...

If the stories that John Karr are telling are true, I'm truly happy for the Ramsey family. They've suffered the tremendous tragedy of having to bury a child (at the holidays, no less), and they've lived under the shadow of suspicion for years. The fact that investigators were able to tell Patsy shortly before her death that an arrest was imminent must've have given her some joy in her final days.

However, I'm pretty sure that he's making it all up. Reading his statements, there's enough room for doubt that it looks to me like he's actually just looking for a way back from Thailand and possibly a diversion from whatever charges he was facing there.

Watching the CNN clip, he clearly says he loved her and that she died accidentally; however, when pushed for the details, he retreated into the world of "no comment." It's possible that he was there (though I doubt that too), but what's clear is that he doesn't -- at least according to CNN -- say "I killed her." He may have loved her, but in the days and months following the murder, we all fell in love with her little face. Could that have been what he meant? When asked if he was an innocent man, he says "no," but what is he not innocent about? The Jonbenet case or the charges that propelled him to run to Thailand?

The most compelling evidence that he may not be telling the truth lies with the ex wife. This guy doesn't really seem like the type to invoke loyalties in his ex, so what motive would she have in saying that he was in Alabama with her if it weren't true? I think he's a guy looking for a little attention who used his obsession with the case to learn details that weren't available to the general public. From those details, it wouldn't be terribly hard to come up wtih a plausible story.

Only time and a fair jury trial will reveal the truth or lies in this case. Here's hoping that Karr gets his opportunity to tell his side of the story: the whole truth and nothing more.

The Macaca has hit the fan...

I've been following this George Allen/monkeyMohawk story for a few days now on Wonkette, and, I'm super-disappointed in the senator. Sure, he's exhibited racist tendancies for years, but this is a man who is 2 years away from a hard-core run at his party's nomination for the BIG JOB. Where the hell were his Josh and Toby types to go, "um, yeah, not such a good idea to call the man by a racist term and THEN push the issue by implying that the man was new to America." For the record, he was born and raised in the USA (Ironically enough, Fairfax, Virginia).

The good news is, is that this exactly the type of thing is what Jim Webb needed to get some national press and to boost his challenge into high gear. Send the man a dollar, and see the grassroots grow.

With the latest foul-up from the Political Realm in mind, I now present my top 10 ways to not run for political office in 2006:

10) Referring to a person of color as a monkey. (George Allen)

9) Trying to cover up those remarks by claiming that you were really referring to them as a "shit-head." (yeah, that's so much better).

8) Hiring Mel Gibson for any sort of PR (fine, it hasn't happened yet...but it could!)

7) Saying ANYTHING "off the record" or "anonymously". (Michael Steele)

6) Turning your name into a stupid-ass pun (Joementum, anyone?)

5) Laying the smack-down on the Capitol Hill Police (I'm Cynthia McKinney, bitch!)

4) Having a voting record that says you voted for the war in Iraq

3) Referring to a person of non-color as a "plain vanilla man" (alls fair in love and Eleanor Holmes Norton)

2) Screwing your intern, killing her, and dumping her in a park. (Sorry, that was a flashback to 2002. Nowadays, that sort of stuff is apparently "acceptable.")

1) Being Katheryn Harris

With OUR Marriage

This was on Craigslist earlier today...

As it really was not mine or yours, it was OUR marriage. Only you did not want to take responsibility for your end of the deal. It was all up to me. And after 15 years, I had had enough. And all of your worst fears came to life. That I would trade you in on someone younger and more vibrant. And I did. And she is awesome. But only after trying for so hard and so long to convince you that YOU were still young and vibrant. But you never trusted me. Why? I don't really know. I did my best, day in and day out, to be there for you. To forgive YOU for YOUR past. I never ever mentioned those things. My fear now is that the 'others' in this situation will soon lose your trust, because you can't come to grips with happened to you all those years ago, that did not involve any of us. You let go of the wheel long ago, and even now, when we are not a couple, I am still trying to clean up the mess. Funny thing is, I am the one who lost trust in you, as well. You stopped telling me things. Stopped letting me help you. Stopped letting me love you. You could never just hold my hand. Never just take my hand as if to say, "it's just you and me, and we can do it!". Never. It was always me. But you never believed me. And so I stopped believing you. And then it all went to shit. After I realized I was a fool. Such a fool. And then my friend died, and I realized that life is just too damn short to waste. That the best thing to do was to take my chance at happiness. I had given you everything. And now, in this public forumn, for all to see and none to see, I am letting go of you. Fifteen years. Not wasted, but I wonder how long it will take for you to pull it together and admit it. If you ever can. Yes, she is younger. She is only that. No more, no less beautiful than you. Just younger. But smarter. WE talk. WE hold hands. WE trust. WE make mistakes. WE forgive. WE move on. I believe in her. She believes in me. WE are doing it. WE are happy. I hope you can be too.

This is really sad to me. I don't know the people involved or the what happened, but I'm strangely and sadly intrigued. Here is a person who loved deeply, and realized that his girl, maybe his wife, just didn't (or couldn't). The fact that he chose to do it in public seems, at first, to be a little cruel. However, if you read carefully, you'll notice that he doesn't give out any identifying details. This could be any husband in DC and any wife. As a result, it is no more than a vent expressed in the anonymous world of the Internet. That shows that not only did he love his former wife, he continues to respect her. That's class.

Friend, if you see this and recognize your post, best of luck in your new relationship. Though you've already, clearly, changed each others' worlds, you've also changed mine. Thanks.

Myracle

Q100 Atlanta is interviewing that woman in Florida who crashed her car and gave birth on her own earlier this week. If you haven't heard the story, she was driving to the hospital and had a huge contraction. As a result, she crashed the car in a canal, breaking her leg.

So there she was, hanging out of the car for 2 and a half hours waiting for someone, anyone, to find her. As she was hanging out of the car, not able to crawl back in or out, the baby drops out on to the floor. She couldn't touch her baby until she hit the hospital, and all she could do for her child was swat mosquitos away and "kick her gently" with her broken leg when she stopped crying.

The truly crazy part of this whole thing came when the EMTs found her and called her father. Her dad shows up, sees she's ok, and starts to leave to meet her at the hospital. That's when the EMT goes, "Don't you want to hold your granddaughter?" HIS WHAT?

According to the woman, she kept meaning to tell her family (she's 21, but still lives at home), but she kept putting it off. She was kind of evasive about what her plan was when she was discharged from the hospital, but thanks to the fates, her secret baby is a national news story. Lovely....

Listening to her, she definitely sounded sort of spacey (but that could have been the meds), but come on. How do you have a pregnancy and a baby and "forget" to tell people about it? She was heading to the hospital, so it wasn't like she was planning on doing something drastic, but a baby is not a kitten that you find on the side of the road and take home to mom!! Freakin insane...

Last Night

Last night, I had dinner with a couple of old friends from high school and their significant others. One was married, the other was divorced (but he had his girlfriend with him).

I was definitely nervous as I drove to VA and sat at the bar (I was early, as usual). I hadn't seen these folks in 10 years!! What if they were completely different?? What if I was completely different?? What if their memories of me were the bad ones??

Needless to say, it totally wasn't anything to worry about. Dave's wife was so cute, and both the boys have gone so far in the last ten years. I'm so happy for both of them.

John did say something interesting as we sat at the table (Lebanese Taverna, East Falls Church, YUM!): "Up to half an hour ago, Lindsay was 16." He was right. Up to a few days ago, Dave, John, and the rest of my high school class has remained 17 in my mind.

Since 17 was an awkward time for most of us (I knew there was a reason that acne was a good thing), I'm totally feeling better about the reunion now.

Is it possible...

To accidentally stalk an individual?

No, I'm not talking about the eye-batting
oh-I-thought-I-was-meeting-my-friend-here excuse that you use when Jon
Cusack has once-again found you on his property and you're looking at 5
to 10 in a cell with a gal named Bertha. I'm talking about finding
yourself, over and over, turning up in the same location as someone you
just met. Trust me, it makes for some awkward hilarity.

This actually happened a few years ago, but since he's back in the
spotlight, I'm constantly looking over my shoulder, wondering if it's
going to happen again. His name is Oz Bengur, he's running for
Congress, and I'm pretty sure he won't approve this message.

It all started in the fall of 2002. I was working on a campaign in
Baltimore, and, as a result I was going to a lot of political events.
One Monday night, I met Oz at a party for the campaign I was working
for. Nice guy, but I was really at the event to scope boys and the the
mayor's little brother was hot and single. This girl was on a mission.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again; the gods always enjoy a good
joke at my expense. They wanted to make sure that I'd never, EVER,
forget Oz. It all started two days later (Wednesday) when, driving home
from work, I went to a grocery store that I normally don't go to. Oz
was drumming up support in the parking lot. Thursday, I was meeting a
friend at the mall (again, a route I don't normally take). I pulled up
at a red light, looked to my right, and he was in the car next to me.

By Friday, I was getting a little paranoid. Really, I didn't want the
guy to think I was the next Squeaky Frome or, worse, Monica Lewinsky and
me turning up everywhere was doing nothing to help my case that I
wasn't. Deciding that the safest place in Baltimore during campaign
season was a movie theater, I went to see Sweet Home Alabama (FYI:
Patrick Dempsey is definitely stalkworthy). Driving home from the
movie, I was "starving." Pulled into the Stil, and grabbed the only
available seat in the place. As soon as the hottie standing next to me
was collected by his girlfriend, I realized that THAT was clearly a bad
idea. There, in the seat right next to me, was the man I had been
"accidentally stalking" all week. He gave me a weird look, and I think
he was about to say something, but my food arrived and I beat a hasty
retreat.

He lost the election, and life went on. Now, he's running again (but I
don't think in the same district), and I'm seeing him all over the TV.

It's only a matter of time until our paths cross.

Let the non-stalking begin....

Oliver K. Woodman

If you're paying attention to that little flicker map to your right, you've probably noticed a bunch of photos featuring a little wooden man posing all over DC and NYC.

Contrary to what the Security Guard at the Museum of American History thinks (and I'm being completely serious here), he is Not my new boyfriend. His name is Oliver K. Woodman, and he's a favor for my mother.

You see, Mom's an elementary school librarian, and last year's most popular book was The Journey of Oliver K. Woodman by Darcy Patterson. As a "fun summer project," she decided that she'd take Oliver K. on a little journey to New Mexico, Colorado, Oklahoma (is it just me that hears Gordon McCrae in their head every time they spell that word?), Tennessee, and New York. The doll got to go out west, I had to settle for the Big Apple.

So, there we wereI was(damn me and my big purse), lugging this doll all over New York City, attracting curious stares from natives and tourists alike. No matter how many times we tried to explain, it, frankly didn't make a whole lot of sense.

I'm telling you, it would have been easier with a garden gnome. Because, you know, that's normal.

Somehow, that weekend I got attached to the little guy, and I thought that since I was heading to DC "sometime in August" to see the Muppets at the Smithsonian, I thought that Oliver K. (now named "Fat Stanley" because people got that reference) should come along. I wasn't really counting on the Bush Administration freaking everyone out with this whole "sophisticated liquid" thing (puh-lease), but since he's not a bottle of Nestea, I figured he'd get through security relatively easily. He did, and I'm assuming that he really wasn't a threat because the security guard told "my date" and me to enjoy our day. Yeah, real cute.

A song about Darren and Joanne

I keep getting emails and commments that there's more to the story of Darren Sherman, the guy who needed $50 to make Joanne holler (he gets paid to do the wild thing?).

Right, maybe not.

So the jist that I got from the rest of the blogs was that Darren's been kicked off of J-Date for "conduct unbecoming a J-dater" and that he's still threatening to sue the pants off of anyone who continues to make this story live on. I know you're thinking the same thing I am: it's the only way he's going to get in anyone's pants for a really long time!

The story of Darren, however, lives on in the music world, and you can find it by checking out David Kraut's Myspace Page. His default song (Liquid Sunshine) is pretty, but the one you're looking for is Do The Right Thing.

Thanks Raincoaster for the link!

I think the class I took last night...

...is having some weird effects. I took Hip Hop Dance last night and
I've been chair dancing at my desk all day. I'm not sure how long me
sitting in the chair will last though, I'm seriously considering doing a
little cube dance ala Ally McBeal.

I finally decided on a song list for the CD Exchange too. The CD is
called "All Hail the Drama Duchess" (don't worry, there's an explanation
in the liner notes -- not quite sure if I'm linking to the blog though):

There's no doubt about it; I am officially a "Drama Duchess." Whether
it's going on an accidental date with a member of the Hells Angels,
sending naughty text messages to my coworker when I thought I was
sending them to the boy of the moment, or doing absolutely nothing right
at a Hindu Funeral, I swear I'm really not seeking these situations out!
They just sort of, well, happen.

When you find yourself in as many cringe-inducing moments as I do, it
helps to have a cache of songs that remind you that, despite the drama,
you really are one hell of a sassy individual. These are my latest
favorites....

The song list is (songs subject to change)
1. Believe it or not (Greatest American Hero)
2. Searching my soul (Vonda Shepherd)
3. Girl all the Bad Boys Want (Bowling for Soup)
4. Don't Cha (PCD)
5. Just the Girl (The Click Five)
6. That Girl (Shaggy & Maxi Priest)
7. Damsel in Distress (Idina Menzel)
8. I Wanna Be Bad (Willa Ford)
9. Out Tonight (Rosario Dawson)
10. Promiscuous Girl (Nelly Furtado)
10. A Public Affair (Jessica Simpson)
11. SOS (Rihanna)
12. I'll Take that as a Yes (Phil Vassar)
13. Falling in Love (Aerosmith)
14. Most Girls (Pink)
15. Another Dumb Blonde (Hoku)
16. Gone (Kelly Clarkson)
17. Jessie's Girl (Rick Springfield)
18. Who Loves You (Jersey Boys)

What is it with these guys lately?

This unfortunate loser was on the Today Show this morning talking about this email that he sent to Kate, a girl he met at a BBQ and who he hoped to see again socially. Kate, of course, got a little creeped out by it and forwarded it on to her friends, who forwarded to their friends, and lo and behold in a few short weeks, Joe was appearing on the American news media and getting emails from Japan.

Here is the email, in its entirety, with (of course), my thoughts and comments thrown in....

Hello Kate, It's Joe - we met at Andrew's party. I hope you don't mind me getting your e-mail address from the e-mail that Andy sent to us all; it is a bit sneaky of me.

Eh, not so sneaky. I've done that sort of stuff plenty of times. Plus, in the Internet age, it's no different from asking your friend for his friend's number. I'd let it go.

It was wonderful to meet you on Saturday, and I wonder if you would consider meeting me for coffee sometime; maybe at the Tate Modern? OK. This is where my common sense is telling me to stop, keep it simple and positive Joe.

Let's review. When dealing with a member of the opposite sex and you're vacillating between ending the convo and pushing it just a little, your common sense will usually weigh in to tell you to stop. ALWAYS go with that instinct. Nothing good can come of continuing.

And the probability of me listening to that voice? Experience has taught me that it is not worth putting up a fight; I will end up giving in to the part of me that never wants to find itself shaking its head and muttering 'if only?'

This is the part where I throw caution to the wind; the part where I listen to my heart and remember that I should live my life as an exultation and revel in the opportunity to try; the part where I refuse to apologise for who I am; the part where I trust that the lady I met on Saturday night is, as I suspect, able to see sincerity where others would see cliche.

And this is where things just start to go terribly, terribly wrong. You see, Joe, the lady you met on Saturday night didn't see sincerity or cliche. She saw an opportunity to share a joke with her friends. Who saw an opportunity to share with their friends, and...

I am fortunate enough to have been able to collect a number of special memories. They are memories of moments that made any struggle leading up to them worthwhile. They are memories of moments when I am struck by something so beautiful, time stands still and all of the ugliness in the world ceases to exist.

Your smile is the freshest of my special memories. Regardless of whether we see each other again, I will use it as I do my other special memories. I will call on it when I am disheartened or low.

You're an Internet joke now, Joe. How special is that memory now, buddy?

I will hold it in my heart when I need inspiration. I will keep it with me for moments when I need to find a smile of my own.

How many times do you think Kate read that line making sure that he wasn't expressing a desire to hold HER heart in HIS HANDS?

I am unsure of all my motives for sharing this with you

Because you're crazy?

and, if I am honest, not ready to examine them too closely.

And there's the line that tells me he's in therapy!

However, I know that it makes me feel good to believe that maybe, if you are ever upset, knowing that I will be keeping your smile alive might help you through.

Oh yes, the fact that some creepy loser-type is keeping my smile alive (and, quite possibly, in a jar somewhere) always makes me feel better when I'm a little upset about the turn of my life. What the hell is he thinking?

If you are half as intelligent and aware as I believe you to be, I am sure that you will find what I have written, in the very least, sweet. If I am twice as lucky as I would dare to hope, you will find this note charming and agree to contact me and arrange a date.

Or your murder...

Either way, I trust that your reply will be candid - you told me how much you value honesty. One last thing, I promise that it is enormously rare for me to stray as far from sobriety as I managed on Saturday night. Be safe. Joe.

And here we have the explanation...beer goggles. Joe never stood a chance with Kate, the Beer Goggles just made him think that he did. Then, he got high (not drunk, since he apparently doesn't do that that all that often) and thought that this note was a great idea.

And, can we talk about the closing? BE SAFE. Joe, you might have thought that was an acceptable closing, but the rest of the note gave off a "be safe, I'll be watching" vibe. Not cool, seriously.

Joe, you seemed like a nice guy talking to Matt Lauer this morning. Kudos to you for not hiding behind that email and getting some press out of the whole thing. Maybe it'll pay for some dental work and writing lessons...I'm just saying, it could help.

Why I'm glad I don't live in the 50's

From Housekeeping Monthly (May 13, 1955), your latest lesson in what womens' rights weren't when men were men, and sheep were scared, and women were expected to stay barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. Or doped out on mescaline (if you're to believe all those Julianne Moore movies about the 50s).

If you click on the image itself, it opens in another window, and you may be able to read it easier. If not, well, you probably didn't want to read it anyway.

Mothers and Daughters

There are only a few words guaranteed to drive fear into the most confident of women. These include:

• You're pregnant
• Will you marry me?*
• I'm coming to visit**

It's the third one that I've been dealing with all week. Any word that my mother is coming to visit, and suddenly I turn into the woman on the left. It's not that I don't welcome a visit from my mother, but it's a fact that when she comes to visit, she gets bored and likes to clean. Despite the fact that the night before she arrives, I'm doing the desperate momma-didn't-raise-no-slob hose-down of the house, she'll find something that just needs to be "reorganized." Even though she's really not seeking them out, this usually results in her finding things that I really didn't want to attempt to explain; therefore, the entire week preceding the visit, I'm prying up floor boards stuffing away tax receipts and erasing all traces of the latest "mistake of the month" or, even worse, the fact that there's no "mistake of the month" currently in the picture. God forbid, we repeat the condom box incident of 2001 (let's just say that I was in a really healthy relationship, and my parents have never made the mistake of opening any of my drawers since then).

The thing is that this is nothing new in the history of mothers and daughters. My mother hid things from her mother (I still remember being taken to the movies when my parents just HAD to get out of my grandparents' house after the dog chewed up something that my mother had hidden in her luggage), and I'm sure that every grandmother from the ones I was lucky enough to know to the women in Plymouth, Mass had secrets to hide. But then again, the gals in the colonial era were hiding their secrets from the entire town lest they land some seriously ugly accessories a la Hester Pryne.

And so I clean and hide and stuff and pray that I didn't miss anything major. I sit and wait for the visit to end, and for my mother to drive away none the wiser and with a continued appreciation for the responsible girl that she raised. And then I vow to one day have a daughter of my own because payback is guaranteed to be a bitch.

* Ok, maybe not usually. But definitely if delivered during the seventh inning stretch at a MLB game
** Especially when delivered by your mother...

The Weather...

I just want to begin by saying to Roosevelt E. Roosevelt, what it is, what it shall be, what it was. The weather out there today is hot and shitty with continued hot and shitty in the afternoon. Tomorrow a chance of continued crappy with a pissy weather front coming down from the north. Basically, it's hotter than a snake's ass in a wagon rut.

~ Good Morning Vietnam

Yep, I'd say that pretty much sums it up.