Gerald Ford Dana Carvey SNL Tom Brokaw

I'm going to the Capitol early tomorrow to pay my respects. If anyone's interested in joining me, let me know. :)

So, did you have a crush on me too?

The request that I posted on MySpace earlier today was simple enough...

The year is coming to an end...so as a COMMENT on my page, leave one memory that u and I had together. It doesn't matter if you knew me a little or a lot, anything you remember! DON'T SEND A MESSAGE, LEAVE A COMMENT. Next re-post this bulletin and see how many people leave a memory about you. It's actually pretty cool (and fun) to see the responses. Re-post as "memories of us".

The funny thing is that apparently today is, "Let Lindsay know about your long-lost crush from fifteen years ago" day 2006. I know, I should be totally flattered, and frankly I am, but I think it's funny that the first two people to respond to my request for 2006 memories decided to use their few lines to tell me all about these crushes that they had on me when we were kids.

In response to them I say:

E - I knew. It wasn't a secret crush because a) even Aaron knew and he wasn't that bright and b) you were pretty damn obvious about the whole thing. I'm stoked that you're finally admitting now, I only wish you had done it about six or seven years ago. :( Then again, we weren't talking six or seven years ago so I probably wouldn't have gotten the message.

N - Um, who are you exactly? Best I can tell, you were a freshman when I was a senior, but if that was the case, then you're not who I thought you were (which is a tad disappointing because I thought that guy hated my guts and it would be wonderful to find out that he was actually doing the whole "hating because I care" thing after all this time). Anyway, wanna give me a hint here? Thanks!

Since the ego needs a little stroking (interesting weekend), if YOU had/have a crush on me that you'd like to share, feel free. If you're somewhat local, who knows where it'll get you. ;p

Today

So, an hour ago I had plans for the day. Not firm of course, but I was going to run some errands, hit Ikea, and maybe take in a chick flick that I've been dying to see.

Then, I decided that maybe I don't want to do that after all. There's no particular reason, but nothing sounds so good to me at this moment than hopping back into my PJs, ordering some sushi, and watching Pride and Prejudice, the four hour, Colin Firth (in all his Colin Firthyness) version.

I went out last night, I'm going out tomorrow, and while I may still see the movie I'm not going to make a decision about that until much later on.

So, if anyone needs me, I'll be home watching the lake scene over and over and yelling at Charlotte Lucas for accepting Mr. Collins and at Lizzie Bennett for not realizing that when a man who you think hates you says that he loves you in spite of himself, he probably means it.

Happy Holidays

I promise, the long year-end letter is coming soon, but I left my drafts at the office and I'm so not going back there until New Years. In the meantime, I just wanted to wish everyone Happy Holidays and a fabulous New Years!!

~ Linds

Drink of the Day

Just in case you were completely stumped as to what to order at the bar tonight, I thought I'd offer up this suggestion. No, I'm not going to share the name of this delectable concoction, but if you think about what day it is today, it shouldn't take too long to figure it out.

• 1 part Creme de Bananes (banana liqueur)
• 1 part Mandarine NapolÈon (mandarine liqueur)
• 1 part Kahl™a (coffe liqueur)
• Shake with ice in a cocktail shaker.
• Strain into a shot glass.
• Top with light cream and decorate with a maraschino cherry.

Strangely enough, I distinctly remember watching this on the UPB TVs, so that must've meant that winter finals week was MUCH later than I remember it being in 1998.

In case I haven't said it enough lately, I miss the Bartlet Administration.

The Soundtrack of my life.

I stole this from my cousin's MySpace bulletins. Since I'm still baking cookies, I've got some time.

If your life were a movie, what would the soundtrack be?

So, here's how it works:
1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that plays
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
6. Don't lie and try to pretend you're cool...


[OPENING CREDITS]: God Only Knows - The Beach Boys

[WAKING UP]: Bigger than My Body - John Mayer (Is this going to be one of those teen movies??)

[FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL]: Last Day of My Life - Phil Vassar (um, ok)

[FALLING IN LOVE]: Everyday - Toby Lightman

[FIGHT SONG]: Book of Days - Enya (fantastic - my big fight scene is clearly happening in The Lord of the Rings)

[BREAKING UP]: Me Against the Music - Britney Spears & Madonna (it's for the gym, ok!)

[PROM]: Ombra - Le Circque Dralion (it was an existential prom...)

[LIFE]: Young - Kenny Chesney (awww yeah)

[MENTAL BREAKDOWN]: This Will Be - Natalie Cole (yes, when I have my mental breakdown I want to be in the middle of If these Walls Could Talk 35).

[DRIVING]: Rid Wit Me - Nelly (I am not making this up)

[FLASHBACK]: The Jackal - Ronny Jordan (If you haven't seen CJ do The Jackal, then you haven't seen Shakespeare the way it's meant to be done.)

[WEDDING]: Today I met the Boy I'm Gonna Marry - Darlene Love (still not making this up! Though I would hope that I'd have met him before that day)

[BIRTH OF CHILD]: It wasn't his child - Trisha Yearwood (honey, we need to talk....)

[FINAL BATTLE]: Walkaway - Geri Halliwell

[DEATH SCENE]: High Enough - Damn Yankees (yep, I got nothing)

[FUNERAL SONG]: She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy - Kenny Chesney (I'll take things that don't make sense for $100, Alex)

[END CREDITS]: Who Loves You - Jersey Boys

One more thing for the resume

Mom, Dad, I know you always said you'd be proud of me for whatever I do, but I know that the honor I'm about to tell you about is something that I doubt you'd ever dreamed of for your little girl.

No, I didn't win Miss America (though I hear the Miss USA crown could be up for grabs in a few days), and I didn't discover the cure for cancer. This, trust me, is much, much bigger.

I am Time Magazine's Person of the Year.

To be fair, I should admit that I'm sharing the honor with about 50 million of my closest friends (and, really, they are...my MySpace profile says so), but it's still an honor to be considered above false presidents, great women, and the various and sundry despots (Pinochet, Hussein, Hastert, Foley) who could have been considered front-runners for the honor that you have raised me to believe is a benchmark for the success or failure of a particular year. The people who have come before me have included the greatest aviator of all time, the Duchess of Windsor, both of you (mom twice), presidents, popes, queens, dictators, and Bono. No, not Bozo the Clown, Bono the hot Irish rocker. Yummy....

I guess, if we're being honest here, the distinction of being named POTY bothers me a bit. The fact of the matter is that the honor wasn't given to all of us for doing anything more than sharing. Whether it's our blogs, our MySpace profiles, or a crazy video we put together for YouTube, all we did this year was observe the world around us and share our observations. Sure, together we may have taken down Senatorial Candidates and exposed Congressmen for the pervs they were, but we also dished about our dates, outlined our quests for girlfriends by the end of the year, came up with funny anagrams that ensured that you'll need the Rosetta Stone to talk to your eventual grandchildren, spoofed those PSAs that were supposed to teach us valuable lessons, and gave new soundtracks to childhood classics. Sure, we were creative, but I think you'll agree that we all could have done without someone hand-farting the Star Spangled Banner and Lindsay Lohan telling us all to "Be Adequite."

Something tells me that this wasn't quite what Al Gore had in mind.

So, while I'm accepting this honor under a bit of duress, I am, nevertheless, accepting the honor bestowed upon me and the rest of the "Web 2.0 generation." This is purely in the hopes that this will be the beginning of something beautiful and that the validation that we, the bloggers, the YouTubers, the Facebookers, the MySpacers, and yes even the drunkards from Late Night Shots have received from the main stream media will cause us to abandon our plans to produce yet another Brokeback Mountain parody and possibly use our influence for something good, like bringing another POW home.

A girl can dream, right? In the meantime, let me tell you about my latest date.

Year End Photos

I took/appeared in a lot of random photos over the last year. These are a few of the best (that survived the computer crash back in June).



Happy New Year!!

Today, I'm supposed to be hitting the gym, baking cookies, finishing a work project, and getting a dip together for my cousin's Christmas party later on tonight in Pennsylvania. In other words, was supposed to be "productive."

Productive, hee. That's funny. Clearly, none of that has happened. Instead, I can tell you all about what happened on General Hospital this week and, thanks to a totally random act of channel flipping, how the first episode of Star Trek: TNG went*.

Hrmm, perhaps it's not too late. Then again (dips aside), there's always tomorrow....

* As an aside to Wil Wheaton (should he actually return the favor of reading my blog one day), yeah I can see why everyone thought Wesley was the most hated person in the universe. Ten minutes in, even I was ready to kick your ass, and I'm a total pacifist.

I was driving down York Road today, listening to that station that doesn't have DJs so it plays random stuff when I heard:

Oh oh a oh oh
oh oh a oh.
Oh oh a oh oh
The Right Stuff

Instantly I was twelve years old, living in Italy and worshipping Jordan Knight like every other girl my age did back then, but probably won't admit to now.

Since I think that a trip to the past should be a shared experience, I turned up the radio, opened all the windows (not a problem since it's freaking 60 degrees out there!) and started dancing and singing along at the top of my lungs. I probably looked crazy, but the other drivers around my age seemed to appreciate it.

Sadly, it didn't last. Scarcely three minutes after the New Kids started singing, they finished and the commercials started. It was 2006 again, and I was made aware of the fact that I still hadn't moved anything more than my rear in the seat.

On men and cats

I love the insight that no sleep and a minimal amount of coffee can present on a morning that I'm supposed to be getting things accomplished at work....

I think I finally understand why single women of a certain age are so attracted to cats. I don't dare to call them spinsters because I am the proud owner of one and a half cats (the half is a loaner who will eventually move to NYC), and one day I will no longer be in my twenties. No, I'm not writing marriage off completely, but as I become more and more successful in my own right it's not the priority that it was when I was in college majoring in pre-wed.

Right, so the men and cats thing. I think it's because, deep-down, they are basically the same creature. Don't believe me? Consider this:

1. They ignore you all day, but when you're completely engrossed in something (or someone) else, they demand your attention with a vengeance.


2. They think with one major organ (cats, stomach; men, something else completely) and really don't give a crap if you're trying to get a little shut-eye when they want to meet their needs.


3. They never say much, but when they finally open up to you, you're expected to understand what the hell they're talking about.


4. They keep on bringing the same thing back to you (cats, fuzzy mice; men, "skills"), but you're supposed to fake the same excitement that you faked the first time.


5. They're most attracted to the person who wants nothing to do with them.

See what I mean?

Stupid reasons we dump men

My advertising friends will kill me, but this is cracking me up big-time, and I just had to share. I will happily swear on a stack of Bibles that this wasn't me....

Kept Pitching the Advantages of the Compact Model

20-something girl: I once broke up with a guy because he was too small.
Queer: Yikes.
20-something girl: It wouldn't have been a problem if he could have, you know, made up for it in other ways.
Queer: He wasn't creative?
20-something girl: He was in advertising.

--26th St, between 7th & 8th
via Overheard in New York, Dec 12, 2006

If nothing else, this just illustrates the stupid reasons that girls break up with guys. I'm guilty of it myself, and no, I'm not particularly proud of it.

I think the worst reason I ever broke up with a guy was because he wore clip-on ties. I wasn't in junior high when it happened, either, it was the summer I turned 21. It wasn't the ties in particular that turned me off so much, but the fact that it was the final straw in a long list of immaturities that turned me off of this guy. Frankly, the only reason I stuck around as long as I did was because I found his roommate insanely hot, and I wasn't sure how I was going to finagle seeing the hottie if Clippy was gone.

Sadly, as it turns out I didn't have to worry about it. To this day, I'm still not entirely sure how this came to be, but within a day of me finally offloading Clippy (for some bullshit reason that I'm sure sounded ok but didn't involve clip-on ties or the word "funner"), a message appeared on my answering machine from the hottie...

"Clip on ties, you've GOT to be kidding me. Never come back to our apartment again."Then again, considering that it was a wellness apartment at Vista Way, there wasn't a snowballs chance of that happening. Seriously, what was I thinking?

If you thought that I learned my lesson, think again. Just this year, I dumped a guy for the very reasons that the girl in the quote above ditched her man. Again, I SWEAR this wasn't me because he wasn't in advertising, journalism (mmmm, journalists), or any of the other so-called creative positions. If he had been, it may have helped, but we can't be sure. I did, however, make the mistake of telling my girlfriends exactly why I had dumped him -- a fact that came back to haunt me over dinner with my friend's new boyfriend one night. I was telling K's new boy that the "timing just wasn't right" between old boy and me, when either B or C suddenly went, "Timing, is that what you're calling it?" At first I had no idea what they were talking about; then I did....

I love my friends, really.

Right, about this "gourmet" thing

I’ve been thinking about this, and I think it’s only fair that we establish a few ground rules, oh lovely test subjects of mine. Really, I promise you that they’re for your own protection as there are a few things in this world that I’ve tried multiple times to make and, well, they just never turn out – usually for the same reasons.

We could talk about the 10-hour turkey, but that’s a story best purged from memory. I will say this: if I invite you over for dinner and you show up at about the same time as the pizza delivery guy, well, you’ll know that I’ve learned from that college experience and thrown in the towel. Believe me, it’s for your own good. Rule #1: tell me what type of pizza you like as a back-up. If there’s more than one of you invited for dinner, majority rules!

I promise you, it’s nothing I’ve done intentionally, it’s just that these items seem so incredibly easy to make that I just think that I can pop them in the oven and forget about them. An hour or so later, what I had envisioned to be a thing of beauty turns out to be a) a mushy pile of goo, b) flatter than the pancake I wasn’t intending to make, or c) charbroiled beyond recognition.

Most of the time, it turns out to be C, and those charbroiled little hockey pucks are usually brownies.

Thanks to some fabulous mixes out there, brownies should be one of the easiest things in the world to make. I remember when I was in high school – back when I had metabolism – that not a week went by without my parents or sister mixing up a yummy batch of ooey, gooey brownies for after-school snacks. I attempted it once, maybe twice, and after that, even the dog knew better than to wait in the kitchen for scraps.*

Somehow, though, I’ve never quite mastered the technique. I will say that I’m getting slightly better at it, but usually one out of every 10 batches turns out to be semi-edible, so really, we’re not talking about great odds here. Plus, the explanation of what happened to the brownies has gotten me into trouble at work. Did you know that, apparently, “Cajun Brownies,” is another term for “Hash Brownies”? Neither did I – until I was telling my coworkers why the promised treats (it was a birthday or something) didn’t come to work. I insisted that it wasn’t my fault because I had accidentally made, “Cajun brownies,” (meaning that the oven was on ‘broil’ instead of 350 – resulting in a layer of char that didn’t really add anything to the flavor), and the next thing I knew, I was being called into my boss’ office. I explained it away quickly, but it’s been five years since I attempted to make brownies for the coworkers, Cajun, “special,” or otherwise.

It goes without saying, then – Rule #2: Don’t even attempt to ask me to make brownies.

Even the diet ones or the ones from the EZ Bake oven. I promise you, if there’s a way to screw it up, I will find it. If, despite these warnings, you insist on brownies, I am more than happy to buy some for you (or you can buy some for me) from Fairytale Brownies (www.brownies.com – because it would be have to be that easy to remember). Now, these people know what they’re doing and have such confidence in their culinary abilities that they have no qualms about baking millions of brownies and shipping them all around the world. In addition to the traditional recipes, they’ve even kicked it up a notch and have perfected the art of putting such things as peanut butter and caramel in their brownies. Me? I’m still working on not burning down the kitchen with pecans. And Fairytale’s brownies come wrapped individually, so you can rest assured that I had nothing more to do with the preparation than the five minutes it took me to pick them out, give them my credit card, and press “confirm order.”

To be perfectly honest, I think it's best for all of us if we go this route. I can't guarantee that they're the "best thing" for the diet, but the absolute coolest part of WW is the fact that I can have what I want in moderation, and those brownie people are even helping me out with sugar-free selections. So really, yeah, I think this is the way we should go if you guys absolutely, positively want brownies.

Interestingly enough, I did learn that the brownie itself was born from a classic kitchen screw-up, and so I hold this story near and dear to my heart in the hopes that one day one of my own will make history (and not in that “Dateline NBC: When Kitchens Attack” sort of way). See, there was this harried woman in New England, Mildred Schrumpf, who was making a chocolate cake and either lost track of time, got distracted, or fell trap to any of the other excuses that I often use when I screw a recipe up beyond recognition. Either way, she forgot to toss the baking powder (no word if it was “Rolling’s Reliable”) into the mix. This resulted in a delicious cake that just happened to be on the flat side. Instead of wasting the ingredients or getting embarrassed, she just cut the dessert into little squares and tossed it on the table in a classic, “I totally meant to do that; if you don’t like it, tough,” sort of way.

Rule #3 (and this one is for your own protection I promise): Don’t ask me to pull a Mildred unless you're willing to disregard presentation. Because I will cut a slice out of whatever it is be sure that it’s edible or even safe to eat!

As I come up with more rules, interesting (read: totally banned) recipes, or cooking dramas (the fireman who lives next store has made me promise to warn him the next time I pull out the grill), I’ll keep you posted.

*Not that we regularly gave him scraps of chocolate because, as you know, it’s not good for dogs. But accidents happen, and he’s a fast-mover.

Did you know

That I spent a grand total of $1,200 on a gym and Weight Watchers this past year to lose a net total of a little under six pounds? If you think about it, that's $200 a pound.

If anyone else is thinking that's completely unacceptable, I'm right there with you.

Thinking back, there was really no reason for me not to lose more weight/tone up/drop the cholesterol. I wasn't on any medication, I didn't have food forced down my throat, and I had plenty of time to go to the gym.

Frankly, it all came down to motivation, or lack thereof.

I've made grandiose declarations before...I'm not going to do this or that until...and they never work. Invariably, I start revolting against my own way of thinking or get distracted by margaritas and write the entire week off.

It's not pretty.

I'm turning 29 for the first time in 2007, so it's more important that ever to get my body and finances in order before the big 3-0 hits. I've got big ideas (no firm plans yet) for my thirtieth, but I want to be in a place where I can actually, truly, and really, enjoy it.

Five years ago, I dropped 30# on WW with no problem. I was motivated by love, sex, and the excitement of the new program. I think if I can find that place again, I'll be able to do this over the next year (starting today). I'm not saying that I have to meet all my goals in 2007 (completing a marathon will probably take longer than 10 months), but I do have to make significant progress towards them and, above all, I have to make the $1,200 I'm spending actually worth spending. Another year of not making it worth it, and I'm going to have to make some significant changes in that department as well.

Oh the irony, giving up the things that will help you most of all because you can't "afford them" thanks to your lack of motivation in the first place. Hrmm, I believe that's the sign of a defeatest attitude, and I'm not sure that I like that.

So, I know we've covered this before, but I'm looking for help. I know that you guys probably are looking at me and saying, "What is she talking about, she's perfect." Well, I am in most areas(right. ego-check. moving on), but I'm telling you right now that I'm not sure that I'm as healthy as I can be. That's what I'm looking for most of all -- the opportunity to enter my next decade being more fit and healthy than I began my last.

I'm looking at the triggers that inspire me to veer off the path, and I'm realizing that a lot of it has to do with me not wanting to cook because it's "easier" to join everyone for Happy Hour, etc. I'm not entirely cutting out dinners out, but please understand that there will probably be a severe reduction in the number of them over the next year. Frankly, I'd rather attempt new recipes for my favorite "test subjects" (that would be you all) that are "low in points and high in adventure." I'm not saying that they'll all be Julia-Child worthy at first, but I promise to give it the "old college try" and never subject you to anything that's truly awful twice.

I'm also looking for recipes, and if you want me to try something that's not completely off the wall (we're talking Fear Factor here, not creamed spinach -- which I don't like, but I'll eat if it's in something that sounds good) or involves me purchasing $300 truffles, please send it on over!!

2007, the year that I become a gourmet or kill everyone trying. Just kidding! Seriously, this could be fun!!

Oh Holy Night

Even if you're not a regular viewer of the new Aaron Sorkin drama, Studio 60, you can't help but admire Sorkin's efforts to bring the people of New Orleans back to the forefront of our consciousness this holiday season.

In the episode that aired Monday, the show's regular trumpet player "called in sick" for the week, which turned out to be an elaborate plan on the part of the LA musicians to help out homeless musicians from New Orleans send a little money home for the holidays. The musicians are played by actual members of Tipitina's Foundation, a foundation for musicians displaced by the hurricane.

The song is supposed to be available for free from iTunes shortly, but in the meantime here's the clip from the show. Ignoring all the creepy "I'm coming for you Donna Jordan" bit, this is Sorkin at his best and I believe you'll agree that it's a beautiful arrangement of one of the most beautiful Christmas songs ever written.



Another random bit of trivia (that has nothing to do with Aaron Sorkin): "Oh Holy Night" was the first song ever broadcast over the radio. It was Christmas Eve 1906 when Reginald Fendessen played Oh Holy Night on the violin and read a passage from the Bible for ships at sea. In this age of XM, Sirius, HD, and CD Quality, it's simply amazing when you realize that for just a moment, a mere 100 years ago, the world stopped for a little bit of Christmas spirit sent from a little town in Massachusetts.

I wish I could pull this stunt...

Alas, I can't. :(

Picture This

You're wrapping up your old job, trying to move your family to a new town, and trying your best to make it a smooth transition into your new job. So, what's usually the first thing to go?

If you're me, it's time at the gym. Not so for our state's new governor, who I just spent the better part of an hour with huffing and puffing on the elliptical machines at the Downtown Athletic Club.

People were walking up to him giving their congratulations and asking for information about his primary agenda. I stayed out of that for the most part, but as I walked past Governor O'Hottie (much better ring than Mayor O'Hottie, IMHO) I did offer a quick congrats of my own. He was extremely gracious to all of us, and I see wonderful things continuing to happen in Annapolis come this spring.

To catch what?

Though the topic isn't funny, by far, you have to admit that this is the only Dateline program you watch. When I found this clip on YouTube, I had to share.