The very model of a modern major rap song

Love this!

Dating the living is hard enough

By all accounts, I'm a level-headed girl. I have a job that requires analytical thinking, and I'm constantly looking for the most logical, most simple explanation for, well, everything.


When I can't find a logical explanation, however, I am perfectly willing to accept a paranormal one. Let's face it, I'm just a little quirky that way. Plus, if the guy I'm out with turns out to be a total dud, mentioning my personal history with the paranormal is usually enough to ensure they'll never call me again. It's a lot more sanitary than smoking, and if I find myself flailing, I can toss in the fact that my (seriously, non-existent) "spirit guide" sees us having at least five children and a huge church wedding. CHECK, PLEASE!


Sometimes though, it just comes up when I'm not looking for it. The guy could be perfectly nice, truly amazing even, and yet there it is. When it comes up, I present what I know logically, and pray that he isn't completely frightened of me, this cute, sensible girl who just happens to see dead people on rare occasions. What can I say, I believe in being honest.

That's exactly what happened last night. TechGuy was up from VA, visiting a friend in the hospital. Since it's a bit of a distance thing and this week is crazy enough, we decided to grab a drink in Fell's Point. The chosen place had the dubious distinction of being named, "Baltimore's best 'Dive Bar' in 2006," but at least it wasn't Max's. :)

While we were sitting there chatting, barely a few sips into our beers, the lights came blazing on. Slightly strange, but we just figured someone dropped a contact (not that you'd want one back if you dropped it on that floor). Then, when the bartender walked over from the other side of the bar, grabbed the remote that was right in front of us, shook her head, and fired, I started to think something else was up.

Before I realized quite what I was doing or remembered that I was with this awesome guy who I had no intention of scaring off, I opened my mouth: "Any other ways that light could have come on?"

"Nope, and you saw where I was, and where that remote was," she replied.

"What's his name?" I asked - still forgetting that TechGuy was getting an interesting first-time look into my secret life.

Over the next ten minutes or so, TechGuy and I got the full story on BOTH ghosts. One, a sailor shanghaied during the War of 1812 was a fun-loving prankster. The other, a life-long abuser who lived upstairs until he was murdered by his own son in the '80s, well, wasn't. We weren't positive which one we were dealing with, but when the lights came on a second time, and the AC kicked on, we knew we were dealing with something.

Now, I've seen enough episodes of Ghost Hunters to know that provoking a spirit can either be a really good idea or a spectacularly bad one. Either way, it tends to produce results. Since I was still showing no signs of scaring off TechGuy, I decided to go "all in."

"If you were a real man, you'd turn the fan on," I said to the light (now off since it was starting to annoy the other patrons who, trust me, needed all the low lights and beer goggles they could get). "Lights and fan. Come on, you wimp, show me what you've got."

And...Nothing. So much for "guaranteed results."

I still wasn't 100% on how TechGuy felt about this whole situation, but I got my answer soon enough. He was sitting on his chair with no one except me within easy reach. All of a sudden, he pitched forward a little.

"Did you do that?" he asked me.

"Um...no...."

"He's behind me then," TechGuy declared matter-of-factly. "My chair just got bumped."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Here, I thought, was a real man who was just as logical as me about this whole thing. Squee!!!

Apparently, someone else was anxious to prove that TechGuy wasn't the only "real man" in the room. As soon as I shared that thought with him (without the "Squee" of course), the light flared on. Again. And this time, the fan was spinning at top speed -- just like I had demanded.

The bartender showed us the remote, and we could very clearly see that NOTHING was actually turned on. I gingerly reached forward and hit the fan's speed button, anxious to see what would happen if I turned the not-on-now-speeding fan up. I did not, I assure you, touch any other button - much less the one that turned the lights off. But that's exactly what happened. I turned the fan up, and it and the lights turned off. Then, the AC turned back on.

After that, all was quiet. I tried to provoke once more by asking the guitarist (dive bar had one of those!) to sing "Son of a son of a sailor," but it turned out he didn't know it. Bummer. We left the bar shortly after. After all, TechGuy still had to get to the hospital, and I to the cleaning I had abandoned. Still the evening was, if you'll excuse the pun, enlightening.

A moment of silence and a speedy recovery

For the fencing team at The College of William and Mary.... (pulled directly from the team website).

The William and Mary fencing team was traveling to Haverford PA this weekend to compete in our 2nd of 3 MACFA team events. We were traveling in two vehicles, a
van and a car, when the car was involved in a crash on I-95.

It brings us great sadness to report that our longtime coach, Pete Conomikes, died in the crash. Three fencers from the team were also in the car and are being treated at
Medical College of Virginia in Richmond. Their injuries range from minor to critical.

We mourn the loss of our coach and are hopeful that our teammates will make a complete recovery.

Pete has been an amazing influence on so many in the fencing community. We ask that you keep those involved in the crash and their families in your thoughts and prayers over the next several days. We also request that the privacy of our team members and their families be respected in this time of great stress and uncertainty.

We will update this post with further information as we receive it.

Thank you for your concern.

William and Mary Fencing Team

11/11/07, 1:30 PM Update:
Matt Peppe has been treated and released from MCV. Spencer Butts remains in critical condition as does Ben Gutenberg.

Entertainment Report

Since most of you have probably missed SNL since Molly Shannon, Jimmy Fallon, Will Ferrell, and the rest of the "good cast" left, you probably weren't aware of last night's completely incredible episode. Since the writers' strike starts Monday, you'll probably get a chance to see it in repeat real soon. I highly encourage it. The host was Brian Williams, of the NBC Nightly News, who is already one of the funniest people on the planet, in my opinion. While I'd never heard of the musical guest, the episode was absolutely HYSTERICAL and featured cameos by Senator Obama and Horatio Sanz.

But that's not the piece of entertainment news that I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around. It's this one about former All My Children star and uber-hottie, Justin Bruening:

On November 2, 2007, it was announced that he would be starring in a new spin of the original Knight Rider series, portraying the original Knight Rider's son, Michael Knight Jr., for a two-hour special on NBC. The original having been portrayed by actor David Hasselhoff, newspaper The Hollywood Reporter immediately took notice to the similarities between the two castings:

“	...the choice of Bruening closely resembles Hasselhoff's casting a quarter-century ago. Like Bruening, Hasselhoff was a soap star (The Young and the Restless) with few other credits when he landed Knight Rider. He was almost the same age as Bruening, who is 28.

My sister will see the irony in this one right away, but for those of you who aren't intimately knowledgeable about the backstage workings of daytime TV, I'll warn you that it may be enough to make your head explode. Here's the story....

Once upon a time in the early 1980s, there was a young actress named Catherine Hickland. Hickland was married to David Hasselhoff, who of course, played Michael Knight on Knight Rider. In 1989, Hickland and Hoff divorced, and in 1992, Hickland married Michael E. Knight (yes, that's his real name) who had been starring on All My Children since the early 1980s as a character named Tad Martin (we'll kindly forget that Ted Orsini debacle, after all, it's not really important right now). From 2003 through August of this year, Tad's son Jamie was played by none-other than Justin Bruening who is now starring in NBC's new Knight Rider movie as the son of The Hoff's character, Michael (No 'E') Knight, Jr.

Congrats to Justin on the new role, and congrats to everyone who followed that without their head exploding!!

Smalltimore

I haven't done a thing of substance today. All right, a thing of substance that has required me to get dressed. I wrote over 1,000 words for my Nano novel, and got a little bit of "real work" done, but I'm kind of digging the idea of spending my Sunday in my pj's belting songs from my Natalie Cole CD.

Thanks to Charissa and Danielle for organizing the Blogger HH on Friday. I really enjoyed meeting everyone!! I promised I'd look into organizing January. Hope people like karaoke.... ;)

I also figured out just how small this town really is this weekend. Friday night, it turned out that Summer and hubby (Matt) were neighbors of my friend Kristen. That was random enough, but after what happened Saturday, I'm more convinced than ever that this really is the "Biggest Small Town in America" (a much better slogan IMO than "Get In On It"):
When I'm nervous about a big decision, and after I get opinions from my friends (who are the most wonderful people in the world and who would totally have my back in any bar fight I may happen to find myself in), but I still don't know what I'm going to do, I employ the tried-and-true "man on the street opinion." Of course, in this case, it's the "Random Chick in the Bathroom" approach.

Yesterday, I asked the opinion of this girl in the bathroom, and we started talking (boys, this is normal female behavior, I assure you), and then we walked out. Never exchanged names, because that kills the "random chick" part of the whole thing. Plus, you'll never "see this girl again." To exchange names is kind of against the "random chick in bathroom" advice column code. I headed out the door to meet my friends again, and I was halfway up the street when this guy came rushing out of the bar yelling, "Hey Stranger!!!"

Turns out, "Random Chick" wasn't as random as I thought. I worked with her husband at T. Rowe for four years!!! He met her after I left, and married her about a year ago. Considering I had never been in that bar before IN.MY.LIFE. it wasn't supposed to happen. Yet it did.

One thing: I was named MVP of my football game yesterday. I actually made four catches and then, apparently, posed with the ball like I was dancing. Not sure what happened there, but I made four catches!! ;)

AND NAVY WON!!

Good weekend all around.

A (potential) wardrobe malfunction

Sadly, not what you may have in mind. This one's a bit more innocuous.

The first Sox game is tonight. Even though I harbor a love for the O's that, at times, rivals Jimmy Fallon's in Fever Pitch (the love for the Sox, not the one for Drew Barrymore), I can't help cheering for the Red Sox in the post-season. I'd like to blame Johnny Damon's super-hot ass, but I really thing the fault lies with Ron Goldstein and that Roger Clemens game freshman year.

But yeah, back to the wardrobe issue.

See, some friends and I are going out tonight to cheer on the team at a supposedly Boston-friendly bar (we'll see how this goes). I have a cute hat. It's from Cheers, so it fits the whole Boston thing. The only problem is that it's pink, and the Sox colors (blue and duh, red), if I chose to wear them, would completely clash. It's rather unfortunate.

If I didn't wear the hat, I may face the wrath of the monsoon outside.

Either way, I'll look like a doofus. But would I rather look like a doofus who got caught in a rainstorm or a doofus who doesn't know how to match her clothing?

It's all very confusing.

Blasts from the past

When most people take a look at their college graduation photos, it's with a wistful eye and a longing for a fleeting youth.

I, on the other hand, wonder where the hell the baby I was so-obviously carrying in those photos is.

My friends look freaking awesome and still do. I'm glad I finally discovered the gym.

I recently found (re-found, actually) , some rolls of film that I hadn't had developed since I moved to Baltimore. On a whim, and because I was bound and determined to do it before the photos were completely lost, I developed three of them. Oddly enough, I learned that unlike most women who find themselves pushing thirty wishing for the "killer bod" they had in high school and college, I wouldn't trade the body I have now for anything. All right, I may give up something (leg, ear, probably-not-arm, etc.) for George Clooney's body, but that's a totally other thing. :)

I may decide to share them with the masses, but not yet. I'm still pretty embarrassed. For right now, they're just a reminder of good times, fleeting youth, and the fact that I'm healthier at 29 than I ever was in college.

Whose @#$#%@ Idea Was This?

Actual sign worn on a woman's shirt on Saturday. The woman running with her had a sign that read: It was YOUR'S, Mom!

Some of you guys got text messages from me on Saturday claiming that I finished the Baltimore Half Marathon in 2:50:40. If you didn’t, I’m sorry, the phone was dying a slow and agonizing death. Kinda like me at that very moment. ;)

Turns out that my time was based on the clock that I passed as I went wheezing and hacking (though still running) my way into M&T Bank Stadium. What I didn’t take into consideration, however, was that it took 2 minutes (we started and stopped a few times because, well, I don’t know why) to get to the “official” starting line from where I was standing (without my iPod b/c I followed the rules – still bitter) when the bell went off. Soooo, my OFFICIAL finishing time shaved two minutes off of that.

2:48:40

Is it great? Not really. I’m in the 39% of my age group, and I don’t think they offer an ISAT curve. However, I did finish before the VT/Duke game reached the end of the first quarter. Small victories, right?

A few observations:

• Apparently it’s ok to take candy from strangers when you’re running along a marathon course – though, had I looked at the girl with the Swedish Fish, I would have realized I actually knew her. Dude with the gummy bears, not so much.
• According to the guys with the beer shots, you’re allowed to drink before the 3 mile mark (where the half- and full marathons merge). I passed, but major props on the idea.
• When you know you’re not going to win, it’s more fun to run in costume…Elvis, the New Jersey Light House, a few Miller Light Cans, a couple of guys in kilts, an old guy in a powder blue tuxedo, and a juggler made for interesting watching. Any chance someone out there knows where I can get a Duke Dog costume for next year?
• I am more than willing to jog through parts of Baltimore that I would NEVER dare to drive through without the doors locked, the windows rolled up, and a can of mace in the glove box – provided I have 15,000 people with me for backup.
• Funeral processions and marathons do not mix – we won.
• “It’s all downhill from here” is not any sort of encouragement unless it’s true. If you’re yelling it on Mile 11 and you’re standing in front of a hill, do not be surprised when 30 participants “miss” your extended high five and get your face instead.
• Skinny courses – though flat – around a lake and BANANAS (whole) do not mix. I’ve seen enough Marx Bros. movies to tell you how this was going to end.
• When a pregnant woman (due in 6 weeks!) beats you to the half-way point, it’s time to rethink your training strategy.
• If my friend Jen and I were antelopes and there was a lion on the course looking for dinner, Jen would escape with absolutely no problem. I, on the other hand, am best served with cranberry sauce and a nice Pino Grigio.

Officially, I'm hooked. The Frederick Half-Marathon is on May 4 (more than six months away!), and it's only $40 to sign up before New Year's Eve. Who's with me?

Shut up and drive

To the woman who was at the red light outside of the Superfresh about 4:30 this afternoon, let's go over a few basics...

1. This is a STOP SIGN. When you see it, you DO NOT MOVE YOUR BIG-ASS CAR!!
2. This is a WALK SIGN. When you see it, and me, you DO NOT MOVE YOUR BIG-ASS CAR!!
3. This is a CELL PHONE. If you ever move your big-ass car while talking on it and ignoring both the previous two signs to the point where I scream like a fucking banshee and slam both my hands on the big ass car that is rapidly approaching me, I assure you that I WILL rip it out of your hands, call the police to report an attempted murder and then shove it up your ass.

And no, when I am screaming like a fucking banshee because your GMC truck has almost run me over, the little smile and wave doesn't work. You roll your window down and actually apologize for being a dumbass who thinks their phone conversation is more important than actually watching out for someone who's trying to walk.

Voldemort was not a math major

So yesterday, I submitted my resignation to the dating-site-which-shall-not-be-named (but not the one of the religious freaks who reject people for no good reason. I'm not saying for certain it's the other one, but yeah, it totally is).

Not that there was anything wrong, per se, with the dating site in question. It's just that it seemed to me that I'd go out with men from that dating site, and then almost immediately meet a perfectly wonderful guy in the next bar or restaurant I'd walk into. He wouldn't on Voldematch, but we'd still end up hitting it off much, much better than the person to whom I had been introduced via the dating site.

Probably not what they had in mind with their "six month guarantee."

Either way, since things have been going so well in the real world, and I've been extremely busy, I waited until yesterday to actually submit my resignation. The "confirmation message" read something like....

"Thank you for submitting your resignation to Voldematch. Over the next 181 days, please take advantage of our site to think about what you've done because, obviously, meeting men in the real world isn't something we prefer you to do. You should continue to use our site. In fact, we'll help you out with that. We'll charge you for the next six months even though you have like 15 hours left on your current subscription.

Obviously, italics added for translation of actual message.

Still, it made me wonder. It was the last day of my subscription, but why, if they were claiming that I had at least 181 days left were they charging me for the 180 day subscription. Sure it was Sunday, but they weren't going to renew on the previous business day, were they?

One quick check of my bank account revealed they were. Great....

Since I couldn't do anything about it yesterday, I waited until I got home from work to take care of the "problem." I'm pretty sure it didn't help that I had this total idiot calling me every five minutes at work until I finally snatched the project away from her. Yet, I digress. Twenty minutes of searching on Voldematch revealed absolutely nothing regarding a phone number. Google helped, but since it also revealed about 10,000 messages on a BBB site about how horrible the site-which-will-not-be-named is about Customer Service, I was feeling discouraged.

Still, I figured I'd give it a shot. Using my best Southern accent (hoping to speak to a guy, I'll admit, plus, I was calling Texas), I called the Customer Service line, obviously staffed by the twin sister of the woman who called me every five minutes at work today. I explained my math and my position, and she informed me that she'd be happy to refund me a partial refund of $66.

"Sixty-six bucks?" I exclaimed. "But my card was charged, illegally I might add, since 180 days is less than the number given to me when I resigned, over 100!!

"Well, um," the tech-from-hell said. "That's all I'm authorized to do."

"Ok, well, I've met someone offline," I stammer. Here I go, explaining my dating life to someone who really has no business hearing about it. "But let's just say that it doesn't go well (kiss of death = me asking him to teach me to drive stick). How much access to the site would the $40 get me?"

"Oh, we'll shut down your access today," she replies.

If anyone out there doesn't see the problem, I believe that positions are available in the Dallas-Fort Worth area. I was dumbfounded. Again, I explained my logic to her...how, when I cancelled, the confirmation message clearly stated 181 days; how six-months is 180 days; how I'm not going to be using the site; how $40 a day is more than most hookers on Hollywood Boulevard who don't resemble Julia Roberts make; how occasionally hookers that do resemble Julia Roberts find love and they don't need a dating site to do it.

Not that I necessarily resemble Julia Roberts, but I look a lot more like her than your average crack-whore on The Block. I'm just saying.

It was just after the hooker reference when the tech-from-hell announced that she was going to "see what she could do." I was then put on hold for not one, but two full Journey songs. Apparently, Steve Perry is big down in DFW.

Then, Leslie/Jennifer (I still never quite got her name) got on the phone. Leslie/Jennifer announced herself as a supervisor and explained that the tech-from-hell had explained the "entire situation," (no word on whether or not the tech-from-hell actually included the hooker references) and that the company was willing to refund the entire $100 on a "one-time-only basis." Apparently, I had used logic which was inarguable. Well, either that or they were eager to get rid of me since my choice of feminist love heroines was, at best, questionable.

As of 3:30 this afternoon, I will no longer receive emails from uneducated men with 5 kids, 2 ex-wives, and about 15 years on me. Plus, I will get a full refund. Things are looking up.

Deja view

I know, I know. I haven't blessed my gentle readers with an update lately, but work has been sucking more than my Kirby. Gutters people, it's a vacuum.


Speaking of sucking, I caught a new show on CBS last night. It's called Moonlight and it's got a total hottie in the lead role as a Private Investigator in LA who happens to be a vampire with a set of "personal guidelines" regarding who he can and can't feed from. He's also got a beautiful blonde foil/love interest who, in her role as an investigative reporter, finds herself investigating the same cases he does.



Been here before, right?

Blonde not pictured (and it's not because she's a lesbian).

I'm not saying that they're the exact same show. I mean, Moonlight actually lets their vamps go outside (one even has a pool), and they have do have an easier transition from upstanding-member-of-society to scary-ass-vampire. Then again, since CBS' guys seem to have access to actual doctors during the day, I'm thinking it's a botox thing.

Let's see, what else is different? Admittedly not much....

They both have a serious problem getting their un-dead freak on...they're both Private Investigators who like to brood...They both have classic convertibles...They both have sidekicks with English accents...they both attract women who wear completely inappropriate outfits for their jobs...they both find themselves throwing all the good lines to the presumably-good-but-deliciously-evil-other-vampire-sidekick.

Wait, I've got it...Moonlight's missing the black guy with anger management issues and the green guy who runs the karaoke joint. Then again, the show's on CBS. If they're not being arrested on CSI (just pick one) or are Ed Bradley, faces of color are pretty hard to find on that particular network. That reminds me: where the hell was Warrick when the rest of the team was combing the desert on CSI? He went back to the lab about 20 minutes in, and we never saw him again. The "entire team" is banding together (plus extras), Greg's flying a huey, and Warrick isn't there? Yeah, something doesn't add up....

I'm not saying that you can't use the same settings or basic concept. If there was a rule like that, we'd never see ER or Grey's Anatomy, and our source of all medical drama would remain, forevermore, General Hospital. That would be a McDisaster...seriously. I'm just saying that if you're trying to court viewers in the all-important 18-49 viewing group, don't give us something we've already seen before, done much, MUCH better.

Congratulations, Cassie and Aaron!!

Um, Hands Down, I guess

Easily, the funniest thing I've read all week. Not the original article, the comments!


Wonkette

It's back!!

Between VT/ECU and JMU/UNC-Chapel Hill, I am happier than a kitten in a milk jug. Seriously, not much is better than college football season, when entire communities come together for sunny Saturday afternoons, ESPN coverage, and of course, stupid pranks being played on each other.

The VT game is in the 4th, and JMU doesn't get started until 6, but I can already sense it's going to be an amazing season for both of my favorite teams. Tech, frankly, needs this. They had a nice ceremony this morning commemorating the 4/16 tragedy and the victims, and then they went straight to business. Though ECU hasn't rolled over and invited them to take the game as well as its money (a $100,000 donation from ECU to Hokie Spirit resulted in both teams entering Lane at the same time to discourage booing), they've given me a great game to watch while I've been working my ass off. It was clear that the emotions were with the guys during the first half, but things have improved considerably. If Tech can hold it together for the next 9 minutes, Lane Stadium is going to be shaking to its foundation.

I'm not sensing great things out of Chapel Hill tonight. I love my Dukes, but the UNC program is solid, strong, and playing at home. Not too promising, but I hope I'm wrong!!

Only one more week until the VT-LSU game, and three weeks until I'm at Lane Stadium to scream 81 North/64 EAST!!!!


BTW, is anyone else laughing their heads off about the Michigan/App State game? Michigan has no idea what they're looking at!

Weekend Update

I went camping this weekend.

Now, I know what most of you are probably thinking...Lindsay out in the woods? Ok, what terrorist organization kidnapped her and took her out into a world where there was no running water, no makeup (thanks Mike Z.), and no comfortable beds?

If you must know, it was the Boy Scouts. Then again, it wasn't out in the woods. We were on Assateague Island, and it was incredibly gorgeous.

I had a freaking awesome time. I always have a good time when I'm with my absolute favorite boy in the entire world (he knows who he is) and his friends. What can I say, these are some hot people, and they put up with my girlyness.

More updates later (like the real story on how I lost half my suit), but first a photo:

Good night, and have a pleasant tomorrow....

Hi New People

I promise, the update from this weekend's camping trip (including being felt up by a Sand Crab and losing part of my bathing suit in the ocean) is coming, but first I have to address a quick little concern. Since, you know, I'd like to stay in my parents' will (and good graces).

If you've found me through my brand-new Facebook profile, like what I have to say and have any sort of relationship to someone who knows my parents (basically, if it would be more awkward than a nun in a whorehouse if we started dating), THIS IS NOT THE SITE THAT YOU WANT TO SHARE WITH THOSE PEOPLE!!

This is the site you want to share with those parental types:

http://the-f-files.blogspot.com

Same stuff, except it's a PG-rated version.

Someone's got her dating shoes on

I’ll admit it. It’s rather difficult when you’ve had three and a half dates over the past week, and none have them have done anything to warrant the types of posts you all know and love. They were all nice in their own way, but only two made the cut.

Wednesday

A teacher named Phil kicked off the week. Phil didn’t make the cut. Phil was nice, but pretty anonymous. I was carrying the conversation (and not in the best way). Like, at one point, we were talking about music (standard first date “what do you like” convo). He mentioned he played the bass. I asked which type, stand-up or rock. He said rock. AWKARD PAUSE. I continued…are you in a band? Him: Not anymore. AWKWARD PAUSE. He also didn’t seem to know what he wanted. Like, he suggested a hipster bar, and then was making faces when he saw all the tattoos.

At the end of the night, he paid, but I don’t remember if we hugged, shook hands, or just turned and went our separate ways.

Saturday

Was a Public Health Service officer named Dominic (Dom). Some of you got the text about me wondering how long I should give him because I didn’t have his cell phone, and the place he picked to meet had multiple entrances and about a thousand people milling around (in front of the Aquarium). Average wait time: 15 minutes (thanks guys!). He showed up in 8…just after this bird dived bombed me, eliciting a scream from a passer-by. I thought I’d been hit, but it turned out that the man had just seen his cousin.

Dom hikes and camps, and so that’s what we did. All over the Inner Harbor…in heels (me, not Dom – the US Navy frowns on that). Again, I was carrying the conversation, but it was in a much, MUCH different way. Like, I was coming up with topics, and he was actually interacting with me. If he didn’t know much about something, he admitted it, but then he’d say, “What about this?” All good.

Lunch was with the little Italians with cannolis afterwards – all dutch. I had a sugar high and a sunburn by the end of the afternoon. Still don’t have his cell but he’s made the cut for at least a second date. Since he works in DC, I’m thinking that he should pick a place down there…somewhere on the hill, preferably, just after he gets out of work so I can see him in his uniform. He’s attractive (though I believe he wrestled in high school and at BC, so you know what that means for his ears), and you all know my affinity for men in uniform.

Sunday (x1.5)

On Sunday, I woke up to a horoscope that read something like “Today, you’re going to have to do something that’s completely out of line with what you wanted to do. Suck it up and deal.”

Considering that all I wanted to do was veg out in front of the TV (it was one of THOSE days), I wasn’t feeling so great about my date with Brian. I had already rain-checked on him the previous Sunday, though, thanks to my birthday, so I was going to “suck it up and deal.”

I’m so glad I did too…his was the best of the week!! Food was fantastic, conversation was even better (James Joyce). We talked about all those taboo subjects (religion and politics – luckily, we sit on the same side of the fence on both), but our takes on them were completely off the wall. “What was the worst thing you ever did at church?” sparked a good half-hour of laughing fun. We also talked about our worst date (another taboo subject!), and after assuring him that he wasn’t it by far, I described in full, vivid detail, the lonely lawyer (it’s on the blog…let me know if you need the address). He couldn’t believe what I was saying, I told him he should have tried living it.

We’re definitely going out again…fifteen minutes after I emailed him to thank him for lunch, he emailed back asking when I was free. He’s got a roll-out at work (he’s in IT too), but he said he’d make sure that he made time if I was up for it.

Sunday evening was the half-date. Since this was the guy who made me fly half-way across the country, and I hadn’t seen him since his return from Phoenix, I wasn’t so sure. But then, he said it was a party for his football team in my neighborhood, and since it seemed so casual, I thought I’d stop by.

Thank God his friends were cool. I didn’t see Todd most of the evening. In the five or so minutes we actually talked, he was gearing up towards an apology for his previous behavior. Sadly, just like Phoenix, there was no completion of the task. Just so we’re all clear, telling someone you owe them an apology and then not following through on it does not an apology make. He didn’t even introduce me to our host…when I got there, he was on the porch talking to this chick named Christa. I asked if she was our host, and she said she wasn’t…then Todd pointed to the real host, and said, “He’s in there.” Christa gave him a very dirty look and graciously offered to make the introduction to Steve and Chuck (Steve’s roommate), and the various and sundry other guests who all had the same question, “How do you know Christa?” It was all very awkward, but I had a good time once I realized that I was going to have to make my own friends. I did, of course. The porch-dwellers were very cool. One of the guests (Cat) claimed to be living across the hall from Dominic West of the Wire. She also claimed to have dated Drew Carey and be the second cousin of Oliver and Kate Hudson, and a cheerleader in high school. I’m not sure I believe any of it (especially that cheerleader thing), but she was cracking me up.

At the end of the night, I said my goodbyes, and I was getting ready to walk down to my car. Suddenly, Todd appears out of nowhere and starts walking with me. We make it to the car where he tries to kiss me. I did the quick looking-for-the-keys-duck, so he got the top/side of my head, but STILL WTF was he thinking??!!?

Needless to say, he did NOT make the cut (again). I’m thinking of changing his ring-tone (just like I did for crazy-Ben so that I don’t have to answer it). Any suggestions??? ;)

It sometimes happens that a woman is handsomer at twenty-nine than she was ten years before. If there has neither been ill-health nor anxiety, it is a time of life at which scarcely any charm is lost. ~ Jane Austen

Happy Birthday to my little sister!!

Squee...

Bought a dress today.

My birthday's Monday, and we're going out tomorrow. Plus, I've dropped a ton of weight in the last few weeks thanks to dub-dub and my half-mara training. I thought a cute dress would be a great way to celebrate the day. Plus, Ann Taylor is having her end-of-summer sale. How could I go wrong?

Well, for starters, how about walking into the dressing room carrying dresses of two different sizes, all of which were way too big???

I've been working hard, and I'm thrilled. Yes, I'm wearing it tomorrow night. It makes me look like Donna Reed. No pearls though, don't worry!!

Check it out

My friend Matt's in this commercial. He's the cowboy who gets bowled over by the folks coming through the door as well as the cowboy in the middle when the group jumps over the chair and starts typing.



Matt, I'm totally digging the 'stache, bud!

Falling in Love

Just a random thought, but I figured I'd ask. After all, if I don't, then I'll never know. Either email me or leave 'em in the comments please.

"If you were to fall in love in the movies, what movie would it be?"

And that's all she wrote

Possible Spoiler alert. PLEASE don't read this until you've finished the book for yourself. I've tried not to give too much away, but I fear that I may slip.

At 1:57 this morning, I closed the book I had been reading steadily since 7:50 last night and sent a text message to my sister:

All done. Admittedly, I should have said "Mischief Managed." I thought about it, but my brain wasn't doing the whole internal spell-checker thing at that late hour. Would have been cool though...

It was my signal that, for me, the saga of Harry Potter had come to an end. There would be no more anxious evenings of waiting for the next installment along with 700 of my closest friends. There would be no more wild speculations and theories regarding the true nature of Severus Snape, when Ron would finally man up and make his true feelings known, the true identity of Ginny Weasly (thanks for shutting down that theory about an hour after I left the house, Jules), or what exactly "Remember My Last" meant to Petunia Dursley.

Now, it's all done. Jem Blythe has come home, Beth March has died of scarlet fever, Laura Ingalls has accepted Alonzo Wilder, and Harry Potter has faced Lord Voldemort. All for the last first time.

I will say that, knowing that it was the last time that this was ever going to be new to me, I tried to savor it. I tried to read each word cautiously and carefully so that it washed over me like something dear should. Of course, that lasted about 10 minutes. Then, I found myself swept up in the story, and with every turn of the page, I was scanning, looking for names and the dreaded words: dead, dying, avada...Once the words were safely tucked away for yet another page, I read more carefully; soaking in the story, and trying to decide what each new development would mean.

I'm afraid to say that most of the time, I didn't see it coming. In fact, I usually got it so horribly wrong that I was crying for no good reason. Like JKR, I was pulling from all sorts of mythology and when Ron did what he did, said what he said, and then grabbed the thing the way he did, I was convinced that she had pulled that entire sequence straight from The Tales of King Arthur. We all know how that ended up and so a new fear was born. For the rest of the book, I was waiting for the death that I knew would come because it had to. The death that would devastate me most of all. The death that would complete this Lancelot, Guinevere, Arthur triangle that JKR had laid out from the very beginning. I thought I had the whole thing pegged, and my affinity for Ron was making this wait for death torturous. I thought about skipping to the end to make sure that he appeared on the last page in a healthy and happy form. I was in the process of flipping, when I remembered that that this was the last time I was going to read this book completely unencumbered by previous knowledge. I stopped, but not fast enough to see the illustration of a woman who could only be Ginny standing beside Harry with an ethereal glow. I slammed the book shut willing the image out of my head. It wasn't Hermione, I reasoned, the hair was too straight. It could only have been Ginny. This was another punch in the gut.

Now, there were two deaths coming. What would this mean to Harry and Hermione? Would they remain friends, possibly something more bound together by grief and the realization that their true loves, the red-heads they had spent all their time denying their true feelings for, were gone beyond the veil? Or, would they drift away from each other, unable to speak or make eye-contact because of the guilt that haunts so many survivors? Would Hermione end up with Viktor Krum or with someone kind and gentle like Dean, Seamus, or Neville? Would Harry drift away from everyone (if he survived at all) or would he accept Luna in his life? I had no illusions of him with Cho (she always annoyed me), and I figured that Fleur's little sister wouldn't have been a wise choice for anyone who was desperate to avoid the Weasley family. Therefore, it would have had to have been Luna.

I meant to stop then. I had driven for 14 hours and I was tired. I could save the heartbreak for the morning; after I had been allowed some sleep and would have been in a better position to look at the situation rationally. Instead, I turned one more page. Then another. Then....

It was 1:52 in the morning. The battle was over. The body count was high and devastating. So many mentors, friends, admirers, loves, and enemies were gone, it was impossible to know what else Rowling had planned for us. I turned the last page and began the epilogue. Emotions were running high. I read the line, and then realizing what it meant, I read it again. Harry had succeeded where Gilbert Blythe had nearly failed and Charlie Brown had never really tried. He alone had won the heart of the little red-headed girl, and had a little red-headed girl of his very own.

It was 1:57. I had finished the book. The Hogwarts Express was pulling out of King's Cross Station, and the next generation of Hogwartians were headed for their place in the sorting line and Herbology lessons with Professor Longbottom. I was wrong about so many things and right about so many others. I was laughing and sobbing at the same time. I grabbed my phone, texted my own red-headed twin, and turned off the lights eager for the sleep I so richly deserved. Whispering into the darkness, "Thank you JK Rowling."

One quick prediction

We're a week away from the event that will not be named, and I'm not going to be home to discuss this in detail until after the books have hit our collective hot little hands (I'm getting it a day late, so please don't spoil it for me), but I have to throw this out there. I have nothing but a few randomly collected hints and a gut feeling to back this up, but I think....


Ginny Weasley is the reincarnation of Lily Potter

This is why (as I said, randomly collected hints):

1. She's the first girl to have been born in the Weasley family for generations and happened to have been born right about the same time James and Lily were blown to green bits.


2. She's a truly talented witch - wise beyond her years according to several professors - in a household full of boys who, well, don't exactly apply themselves. Part of that could have been the simple fact that she's a girl (and we tend to do better in school), but Ginny's prowess and its notice by the professors suggests it's not just a question of gender.


3. She loves Harry, unconditionally, and is accepting of the decisions he makes. Even when he broke up with her, she didn't really argue the point. She may be slightly upset, she may question that he's doing the right thing, but she trusts him like a mother would.One note: I'm not saying that she knows that she's the reincarnated version of his mother. Because that, you will agree, would be just plain icky. Just that she's got feelings towards him that are motherly.


4. Even though she's a pureblood wizard, she was attacked by Tom Riddle and taken into the Chamber of Secrets. The threat was clearly made towards "mudbloods" and muggles, so it would have made more sense that one of them would have been taken. Yes, I realize that the primary reason she was attacked was because of the diary; however, Voldemort's MO has always been to eliminate those closest to Harry first. Ginny wouldn't have been the logical choice at that point. When Ginny was writing in the diary, Harry was important to her but she was no more than his best mate's little sister. Though one of the hands-down funniest, most light-hearted moments in the entire septology is Harry's internal argument on pages 515-6 of Half Blood Prince. I'm just saying.

Anyway, I think that we're going to see something big, something very big out of Ginny next week. I shudder to think that there's even a possibility that Ginny may die, but like Lily before her, it may be a necessity for her to make that sacrifice in order to save Harry and allow him to vanquish Voldemort altogether.

Thoughts? Leave 'em in the comments, please!

Something fun for a Friday

Sirius-ly...

The best of the bunch.

Don't want to give anything away and ruin everyone elses' fun, but YES. HP5 was bloody good and totally worth escaping from work early for. I laughed, I cried, I hurl, sorry, wrong flick.

I have some concerns with what the omissions mean for the rest of the septology, but since the seventh book will be out by the time I get back from vacation, and it won't really matter by then, I guess I'll keep them to myself. If you want to know, email me.

Fast Food Funerals

This morning, a friend sent me a warning about flashing lights and Bloods "membership drives" on I-70 this weekend. Luckily, that turned out to be an urban legend.

Sadly, this isn't one. If you're as upset and disgusted as I am about the turn of events, please take a few moments and contact your Congressmen.

These young men and women gave their lives for a cause that was not their own. Let's not make this their final insult just because Dick Cheney is looking to save a few bucks.

Fort Lewis to consolidate memorials for dead
Michael Gilbert The News Tribune

Fort Lewis, which this month has suffered its worst losses of the war, will no longer conduct individual memorial ceremonies for soldiers killed in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Instead, the post will hold one ceremony for all soldiers killed each month, the Fort Lewis acting commanding general, Brig. Gen. William Troy, wrote in a memo to commanders and staff last week.

“As much as we would like to think otherwise, I am afraid that with the number of soldiers we now have in harm’s way, our losses will preclude us from continuing to do individual memorial ceremonies,” Troy wrote in the memo, according to a copy obtained by United for Peace Pierce County and posted on the group’s Web site. A post spokesman confirmed the policy change Tuesday. It will start in June.

There are 10,000 Fort Lewis troops in Iraq, more than at any other time since the March 2003 invasion. The post has reported 16 soldiers killed there so far in May, by far the most in any month of the war. The previous worst month was December 2004, when nine soldiers were killed, including six in the Mosul chow hall bombing. In all overseas deployments since the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks, 124 Fort Lewis soldiers have died.

In his memo dated May 22, Troy said he asked the post’s senior chaplain, Col. Jack Van Dyken, to work out the details of the new policy.

“I see this as a way of sharing the heavy burdens our spouses and rear detachments bear, while giving our fallen warriors the respect they deserve,” Troy wrote. “It will also give the families of the fallen the opportunity to bond with one another, as they see others who share their grief.”
Other Army posts already consolidate soldier memorials into one or two ceremonies per month.

At Fort Carson, Colo., they are held every other Thursday afternoon in a post chapel, a spokeswoman said.

At Fort Hood, Texas, the 4th Infantry Division has been holding a monthly ceremony since at least 2004. The division has lost more than 130 soldiers in two deployments to Iraq.

“We do schedule them, and unfortunately we do have them every month,” said Sgt. 1st Class Damian Steptore, a division spokesman.

Van Dyken on Tuesday said the change reflects the reality that Fort Lewis, for the next several months at least, will likely be called upon to memorialize soldiers killed in action. Two Stryker brigades of about 4,000 soldiers each will be fighting in Iraq until October, when one of them is scheduled to return from a 15-month tour.

“This is not an intent to streamline the process or in any way detract from honoring the soldiers,” Van Dyken said. “It’s just being cognizant of the fact that when you have this many, the time involved in doing each one individually is just prohibitive.”

Until now Fort Lewis has held memorial ceremonies for those killed in Iraq and Afghanistan on a case-by-case basis, usually one or two soldiers at a time.

Post spokesman Joseph Piek said each ceremony requires significant planning and coordination by the rear detachments of the deployed units, particularly if a soldier’s family comes to the post for the event.

Under the new policy the Fort Lewis headquarters staff will take on much of that work.

Army life is replete with ceremonies that mark promotions, changes of command, awards, homecomings and so on. Van Dyken pledged Thursday that saying farewell to fallen soldiers won’t become part of the routine.

“My commitment would be that we never allow it to become just another ceremony,” he said.

Officials at Fort Lewis said the 4th Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division is scheduling a consolidated memorial on June 5 for the last four soldiers it lost in its first month in Iraq: Staff Sgts. David Kuehl and Kristopher Higdon, Pfc. Robert Worthington, and Spc. Mathew LaForest. A single memorial service for Sgt. Iosiwo Uruo, a member of 3rd Brigade, 2nd Infantry Division, will go on as planned this Thursday.

Things that are awkward #1,213

Having your boss walk up behind you while the only sex-scene in an entire audiobook is playing and asking what you're listening to.

Prom is totally gonna be awkward in two years

Mary Kay and her little pink car have struck again, this time in North Carolina. Important parts of the article included.

School: No Evidence Of Romance Before Teacher Married Student
POSTED: 9:09 am EDT July 5, 2007 WILMINGTON, N.C. --

There was no credible evidence of a romantic relationship between a 40-year-old high school science teacher and a 16-year-old student until the couple married, Brunswick County school officials say.

Brenton Wuchae was a cross country coach who mentored Windy Hager at South Brunswick High School. He resigned in mid-June, the same day he married Hager.

In November, South Brunswick High School Principal Vann Pennell directed Wuchae to cease all contact with Hager, noting that a lengthy list of phone calls and text messages with the student "did raise questions of poor judgment."

The school suspended Wuchae in May after finding that he had communicated with Hager at school. Both he and the teenager continued to deny a romantic relationship, the school board said.

Wuchae resigned and married Hager, who had recently finished her sophomore year as one of the school's top runners.

Hager's parents had approached both the school and authorities in hopes of ending the relationship. The Hagers have said they reluctantly signed a consent form allowing their daughter to marry her coach.

Yeah, I hardly know where to start on this one. Oh, wait, yes I do...

Those of us who work in education know the frustrations when a parent is completely and disgustingly uninvolved in their child's life. You know them as the people who bring the whole redneck family to graduation and then stand there dumbstruck, threatening to sue when the entire class has collected their diplomas and Alan's name was never called. They're also usually the people who don't figure out that Alan Allen was skipped until after Yerman Zimmerman has walked across the stage and the risk of eye injuries from flying caps increases significantly

Even worse are the parents who are aware, but are blissfully ignorant when the rules actually apply to their child. These are the people who demand that Junior's week-long absence be overlooked because, after all, it was only a little trip to Disney World, and his cousins who he wanted to go with couldn't go with weren't available during the first week of April, they were in school. Confidential to them: Next time dig up a dead aunt. We'll buy that one.

But in this case, these people were good parents. they recognized that there was a predator preying on their little girl, and they attempted to enlist the help of multiple authorities: the school, the board, and the local sheriffs' department among them. No one would help. The school saw enough cause to suspend Wuchae in May, but because both he and the girl "continued to deny a romantic relationship," no further action was taken. Honestly though, since this was the fourth case involving teachers and students at the school in the last year, don't you think that they may not have been the best people to investigate? I'm just saying.

The School Superintendent was doing a fine job of covering her (of-age) ass: "Prior to the surprise marriage, there was simply no credible evidence," said Katie McGee. Again, this is a woman who watched one teacher at the same school land himself on the sex offender registry earlier this year. Do you think she may have wanted to take a closer look?

In the end, the parents, the same parents who begged and pleaded with authorities to help them to no avail, weighed their options and reluctantly signed the consent form. while this may certainly seem shocking, it was actually a wise course of action. By allowing their daughter to marry her teacher (ew), they can probably keep her in school and in their lives. If they hadn't, she'd have disappeared in the middle of the night.

Eager to take a look at the "happy couple" (and admittedly see exactly what type of hottie on both sides it would take to encourage this type of marriage), I put Google to good use. When the photo was returned, I found myself even more disgusted than I already thought possible. It's not that he's a total dogface (which he is) and she looks like a little girl. It's the t-shirt...

HE'S A VMI "GENTLEMAN!"

Independence Day

It's that time of year again....


Time for the country to take a breather, a time out, and celebrate a major accomplishment by blowing each other up with the pyrotechnic amateur hour.


Call it: Thanksgiving for the dangerous, if you will.


This year, we have much to celebrate in the world of independence. Scooter Libby is one step away from a presidential pardon. Paris Hilton is finally out of jail. Nicole Ritchie is finally going to eat again (we hope!!).


But I know that the real reason that we're all celebrating this year is because of the six little words my boss said to me yesterday:

Everything looks good; let's open the system.

For those of you not in IT, that means: The project from hell is officially done!!!

Photo by Flickr User: Kyle Walton

Yes, kids, my life can finally get back to normal. I can go out on a weeknight. I can resume my half-marathon training with gusto. I can make it back to the gym. I can go to bed not having worked a 14 hour day (like last week when I worked 50 hours of overtime). I can wake up at a normal time. I can eat real food again (again, last week: the pizza guy and I were on first-names and I gained 5 pounds). I can breathe. I can sing (karaoke!). I can take people up on their social invitations.

I can go on vacation.

I've even written a short play about it (ok, really, it wasn't me, but if you want to have a role, you'll say it was me).

Supportive Friend: Linds, that's awesome that your project is done. What are you going to do next?

Me: I'M GOING TO DISNEY WORLD!!!!

Photo by Flickr User: JiminDestin

See, how hard was that?

I do want to sincerely thank each and every one of you for all your support over the last month and a half. For putting up with my spaciness, last-minute plan cancelling, late night emails, early departures, and (most of all) total lack of posting.

Updates are coming. Now that I have my life back, I'll have some fun and interesting things to say, I'm sure.

More movie time

Oh my GOD. Oh my GOD.



If you haven't seen Bobby yet, rush right out and grab up the DVD. It's phenomenal.

That is all. :)

Laura and Brad's Wedding (6/8 - yes, I know that the update is late!)

I just realized that I never put this up. What can I say? It's JUNE!

Anyway, I had a fantastic time at my friends' wedding on the 8th. Brad is a very lucky guy, and Laura, being one of the kindest people I've ever known, is a perfect match for him (not to mention a gorgeous bride!). These are my buds from my college major, the people who kept my marks high thanks to monster late night studying sessions and the ISAT curve!!!



PS: Yes, they're twins. Actually, it turns out multiples travel in packs...one of the guests (who isn't pictured because I met her at the shower instead of the wedding) is an identical triplet!!

Quote of the day

I ♥ this quote, and considering that I'm quite gorgeous, if I do say so myself, I have to agree with it. :)

Miss Piggy

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and it may be necessary from time to time to give a stupid or misinformed beholder a black eye."

Not a good update, but a quick one....

I promise, I'll be back with a "real" update soon. ;)

And, ok, my driving officially SUCKS!

Your Personality Is Like Alcohol

You're the life of the party, a total flirt, and probably a pretty big jokester. Sometimes your behavior gets you in trouble, but you still remain socially acceptable. You're a pretty bad driver, and you're dancing could also use a little work!

What Drug Is Your Personality Like?

Just a bitchy movie review

As most of you guys know, June has been my hell month (no, not Hell Mouth for you Buffy fans -- though, sometimes it feels that way). The project in question (PIQ) is in full swing, and my coworkers, who finally realize that wait, I actually need TIME to do this damn thing before my 7/1 deadline have finally stopped handing me new projects to fill my "copious amounts of free time."

I guess I should say MOST of the co-workers. The old bitchy one who gives out my personal cell phone number to the users and only bothers to acknowledge me when she's letting me know about something else that she's promised the users I'd do acknowledged me again yesterday. I flat out told her that I couldn't accommodate the project, that she should have checked with me before committing me, and reminded her AGAIN that I have two other high-priority projects in addition to the work that she keeps finding for me to do. Her response, "They need to get you an assistant." I told her it wouldn't help because I would then have to train them , which I don't have time to do; otherwise, they could use the non-training- expect-to-figure-out-how-to-fix-the-users'-messes approach that they used with me and we'd see the person leave in a week.

I then talked to the user in question, apologized for not being able to accommodate his needs (something I didn't need to do, but I figured he needed to know) and invited him to talk to me directly if he needed something as I had a better understanding than Sue, apparently, of what exactly I'm working on and what I had time for as I'm barely keeping my head above water as it is.

That being said, one of the only benefits of these crazy-ass hours (I was up at 2 this morning because that's the free time I have) is that I get to see a lot of movies. Some, like Catch and Release and The 10th Kingdom, I've loved. I may have to add C&R to the rotation of rainy-Sunday chicky flicks. Others, like Happy Accidents, have had a suck-factor comparable to my Kirby (hey, pervs, it's a vacuum). Seriously, you'd think that a movie featuring an Academy Award winner and Thor, the Thunder God from Adventures in Babysitting would be much better, and no, I'm not being sarcastic.

Then, there are some movies that are such a disappointment that you're not quite sure if you could ever look at the people involved (and their offspring) the same way ever again. Jayne and Mariska, I'm talking to you!!!

Now, it's a simple equation. A truly spectacular actress, Emmy winner, and social activist is the daughter of a "classic Hollywood actress" and a "Mr. Universe." If you're thinking, "That's ok, Ah-Nold is a 'Mr. Universe,' I refer you to Conan the Barbarian. Mickey Hargitay never quite got past that stage, and that's ok, he didn't really need to. Remember, it was the 60's, and America liked those beach movies that focused a little more on skin (within the bounds of decency) than substance. Mickey was really into those.

Because of this, I thought, Mariska must've gotten her acting abilities from her mother. Despite the rumors, I've always believed that she's definitely Mickey's kid, and if he’s not that great of an actor, and it had to come from somewhere, then...

Let's just say that the milkman was one HELL of an actor.

Don't believe me? Check out Kiss Them For Me starring Jayne Mansfield and Cary Grant. Just load up on tequila before you do it; trust me you'll need it. First day of filming, I'm picturing the conversation went something like this:

Director: Ok, Jayne, here's what we need...Squeeze yourself into that dress (gestures to dress that would probably fit unless its wearer needed to breathe, eat, or sit down), then as comfortably as you can, slink around *that* guy (gestures to Ray Walston, not Cary Grant) and use your best "sexy" voice while really attracting the doofus with the speech impediment and gappy teeth (gestures covertly to nameless "doofus."). Don't worry if you don't remember his name, he doesn't have that much of a career in him.

Jayne: Ok. I get it.

Result: Jayne slinks around as comfortably as she can doing her best tranny-hooker impression and attracting doofus-boy, culminating in a scene where she RUNS (impressive, actually -- seriously, the heels alone would have killed me) towards him and they spend two minutes (I timed it) squealing at each other...

(Actual Dialogue Below)

Jayne: SQUEAL

NamelessDoofus: SQUEAL

Jayne: SQUEAL

NamelessDoofus: SQUEAL

Cary Grant: I'm going to KILL my agent

Rinse and repeat 50 times.

And somewhere, in an audience, Ned Beatty is watching and wondering if that squealing thing would be a good career move....

Incidentally, in fairness, my hatred of the movie wasn't Jayne's fault alone. I actually blame it on false-advertising. It's described as a story about three Naval Officers having "rollicking good time" on liberty in San Francisco during WWII. It's actually a flick about post-traumatic stress disorder: WHEE!! Since it's quite possible that this thing was a train-wreck from the get-go, I'm willing to take another look. If anyone reading this knows of a good Jayne Mansfield film that I may be able to use to reevaluate my opinion of her, I'm listening. In the meantime, I'm sure that there's an SVU marathon out there somewhere....

Things I put in my mouth

Apologies, as usual, to Dr. Seuss. FYI: Those MorningStars pizza burgers are pretty darn good (as long as you tell yourself you're eating a crab cake -- same texture and all)

I am Becs

I am Cass

That Becca S!
That Cassie Double!
Those two girls
are so much trouble!

Do you like the MorningStars?

I do not like them, Becs and Cass.
MorningStars, they taste like ass.

Would you like them here or there?

I would not like them here or there.
I would not like them anywhere.
I do not like those veggie drecks.
I do not like them, Cass and Becs.

Would you like them in a house?
Would you like them with a mouse?

I do not like them in a house.
I do not like them with a mouse.
I do not like them here or there.
I do not like them anywhere.
I do not like those veggie drecks.
I do not like them, Cass and Becs.

Would you eat them on a bun?
Would you eat them with a Hon?

Not on a bun.
Not with a Hon.
Not in a house.
Not with a mouse.
I would not eat them here or there.
I would not eat them anywhere.
I would not eat those veggie drecks.
I do not like them, Cass and Becs.

Would you? Could you?
In a car?
Eat them! Eat them!
Here they are.

I would not, could not, in a car.

You may like them.
You will see.
You may like them in a tree!

I would not, could not in a tree.
Not in a car! You let me be.
I do not like them on a bun.
I do not like them with a Hon.
I do not like them in a house.
I do not like them with a mouse.
I do not like them here or there.
I do not like them anywhere.
I do not like those veggie drecks.
I do not like them, Cass and Becs.

You do not like the meatless meat?

I do not like it, fin, complete!

Could you, would you, on a roll?

I would not, could not, on a roll!

Would you, could you, with an "O"?

I could not, would not, on a roll.
I will not, will not, with an "O."
I will not eat them in the rain.
I will not eat them on a train.
Not in the dark! Not in a tree!
Not in a car! You let me be!
I do not like them on a bun.
I do not like them with a Hon.
I will not eat them in a house.
I do not like them with a mouse.
I do not like them here or there.
I do not like them ANYWHERE!
I do not like those veggie drecks!
I do not like them, Cass and Becs.

You do not like them.
So you say.
Try them! Try them!
And you may.
Try them and you may, I say.

FINE!
If you will let me be, I will try them.
You will see.

takes a bite of the "burger">

Say!
These are not such awful drecks!
I do! I like them, Cass and Becs!
And I would eat them on a roll.
And I would eat them with an "O"...
And I will eat them in the rain.
And in the dark. And on a train.
And in a car. And in a tree.
They are so good, so good, you see!
So I will eat them on a bun.
And I will eat them with a Hon.
And I will eat them in a house.
And I will eat them with a mouse.
And I will eat them here and there.
Say! I will eat them ANYWHERE!

I do so like
some meatless meat!
Thank you!
Thank you,
What a treat!

It's Preakness Day!

First Thing: Happy Anniversary S&A!!!! I'm sad to admit that I don't quite remember the exact date, but I'll always remember that you were married on Preakness Saturday two years ago!! ;) You guys are an amazing couple, and wonderful friends. Here's wishing you another two years (and more!) of happiness and health. Love you both!!!

While I'm not at the race, I'm still excited about it. I can't help it. I've been watching the Derby, the Preakness, and most of the Belmonts (I skipped a few years when the first two jewels weren't won by the same horse) my entire life. My parents raised me to understand and appreciate horse racing, and I had the awesome pleasure of taking in the race from the infield last year. Here's the link to last year's story.

I've learned since then that I'm a bit too old to take on the infield in future years, but it's still fun.

Next year I'll be back. I'll be in a super-cute hat (I picked up some great tips on making a hat on WBAL this morning) and a super-cute dress, in a seat that actually will allow me to keep my outfit nice.

In the meantime, GO STREET SENSE!!

UPDATE: About 4:30 this afternoon, in the 10th Race, two horses threw their jockeys. One was Robbie Albarado, who's supposed to be riding Curlin this afternoon. Right as that happened, dark clouds descended over Baltimore. What are the odds?

Albarado The other jockey barely missed the railing (they were running on the turf and he sailed through the gaps into the the other side. He didn't get up right away, and considering that he's already had one head injury, that wasn't a good sign. Albarado's horse, Einstein, took off without him after leaping over Mending Fences. Albarado actually ran over to the other guy, so he was ok. Mending Fences doesn't look good after his fall and roll. Albarado's been cleared to run this afternoon. That's a good sign. So, hopefully Curlin will have a good race.

And it's raining now. Man, I'm glad I'm not in the infield today.

UPDATE #2: Curlin won!!! That was definitely a race that I was glad I didn't have to wait three hours to see on the 11:00 news. At first, I didn't think Street Sense was going to live up to his hype. Then he came out of nowhere, took the lead, and I got all excited. Then, Curlin got him at the last little bit. Literally. Photo freaking finish. That's awesome.

Just another Friday night in Baltimore

It is a truth universally certain that when you have reached your fourth decade, the last place that you should be found on a Friday night is a bathroom stall in a Baltimore bar with your panties in the trash and your shorts in one of the sinks.

Completely. Passed. Out.

The problem of course, is that is exactly where we found the woman at Tysons Pub on Friday night. This, you may remember, is the place that my friend's boyfriend (ok, my friend too) was looking to buy. As they were coming down to meet us, they happened to notice that it was open, so we thought we'd check it out for a drink and possibly get the information that Aaron had been looking for.

Oh, it was open, all right. Turns out that the new owners were celebrating their opening night with a bit of a bang. Not in the good way, of course, the place was pretty dead. Just like we initially suspected the girl in the bathroom to be.

Becca went in first. She noticed the girl and her two drunk friends. She alerted the owners. They told her that they already knew. Nice. Then, I went in, determined that 911 needed to be called, actually called 911, played 20 questions (Heart conditions? Nope. Diabetes? Nope - though I suspected Type 2. Age? I was about to say 21 when her friend goes, "42" -- WTF! Oh, and she had three kids), and advised the women that their friend probably should have her pants on when the cops arrive so that she could avoid an indecency charge. I'm telling you, those wild days at Bar Baltimore trained me well.

All the while, the owner is trying to convince me that it's not a good idea to actually call 911. He can take her to his house. Yeah, that's a good idea. So now, instead of her passing out and dying in the bar, she can pass out and die at the home of someone who will undoubtedly return to the bar upon depositing her on the couch, bed or floor. Considering that she had soiled herself (seriously, can it GET any worse?), my guess was leaning towards the floor.

So, then the firefighters show up and, shortly thereafter, the rescue squad. They agree with my assessment that Patty needs to go to hospital. Not to jail; not to the house. Hospital. They load her up on the stretcher and attempt to wheel her out the front door. But no, the owner still doesn't think it's good for business that this completely irresponsible person is wheeled out the front door. He tries to get them to go through the back -- limited alley access, I believe. Ok, how about a side-door? Still not happening...the stretcher can't make the turn.

So out the front she goes. And her friends STICK AROUND THE BAR. No one's going with her to answer the questions, hold her hand, or protect her from the embarrassment that's sure to come when the doctors figured out that not only was she not wearing clean underwear (mama always said*), she wasn't wearing anything at all. Nope, they've bellied up and ordered another. Oh, and started complaining that it was a waste of the taxpayers money for both the fire department and the ambulance to show up. Definitely weird, but then we get those two final details:

1) she was an employee
2) they had a provisional liquor license. If the cops had figured out that the staff was getting snockered on the first night, they would have been reduced to serving O'Doules and Diet Sodas.

With friends like these....

Can I just say right here and now that I'm grateful for the friends I have? Some of whom also left me on Friday night. However, it was much later and in the company of a perfect gentleman. Who, because it's one of the perils of giving away your blog address too soon, is asking for his very own alias. Problem being that the one he suggested ("Mike") won't really work for various and sundry reasons. So, Shakespeare -- possibly -- Berger -- though, frankly, I'm not sure I can support using the name of a man who breaks up with a girl on a post-it -- is going to be surprised by whatever I finally come up with.

Anyway, as I said, nice guy who claimed to have been intimidated by Cassie. He needn't be, she's very nice and confidential to Christopher Marlowe, SHE WAS JOKING!!! Though, I'm pretty sure you'll never forget her name again.

I have noticed a bit of a disturbing trend already. Both times I've seen him (at Max's and then on Friday), he'll walk away for a moment (drink, lav, back to friends...) which seems to invite a new "friend" to appear at my side and not leave me alone to the point that I'm actually uncomfortable. The first time, it was a Baltimore City police officer who, despite the fact that he kept complimenting me on the fact that he was pleasantly surprised I could write in a bar, wouldn't actually let me do it. Friday, it was this guy who felt the need to share that the reason he was out drinking in a bar is because his wife slapped him. He (bitch-slap) then brought over his friends and they just took over the table like they belonged there. By the time He-Who-Has-Yet-To-Be-Named returned, there were like five rednecks and a Gretchen Wilson wannabe hanging over the table. They provided quite a bit of amusement, and conversation fodder. Not that we needed it. Now, I'm not saying this is a problem that I can't handle, but if it happens again, I may have no choice but to assume that he's actually sending these weirdos over in an attempt to make himself look even better. If he is, I do have to commend him on an interesting tactic. I'll keep you guys posted. ;)

* About the underwear thing. Not that this matters, but there's this guy I went to HS with who is actually a doctor at Hopkins' ER. Really, I'm thinking that the last person who needs to see me in laundry-panties is Dr. McBeachy; after all, he'll talk to Dr. McDoggie (he's a vet from our class) who'll talk to his mom, who'll talk to my mom (they're librarians together) who will talk to me about the sage advice of always having clean undies in case you have to go to hospital and the fact that I didn't follow it on the day that I happened to have been doing laundry and falling down the stairs in my home. Then, I'll be all upset because while the undies will most definitely have been clean, they wouldn't have been cute and my drug-addled brain (assuming painkillers here) won't have any clue where in the telephone-chain screwed up the order and that's not really something you can call up anyone and go "Did you say I wasn't wearing clean undies when McBeachy saved my life? Because I totally was." So yeah, I'm just saying that if I'm ever in a situation where one of you is having to take charge of me after an accident at home, could you make sure that I'm wearing cute undies before the ambulance comes to take me to the ER? It sounds weird, I know, but it would really help my recovery. Thanks.

Where can you see Lions?

Only in Kenya!!

That kind of explains why my sister, who went to South Africa and Namibia, didn't get any photos of them. However, she got a bunch of other great photos from her humanitarian mission with the UNA and a corporate sponsor. Since she's a little zonked from her trip, I put some of these together for her.





Confidential to Jules: Clearly we're even for Wake Forest.... ;p

Is anyone really suprised by this?

You Are 72% Girly

You're a pretty girly chick, and you're not ashamed to admit it (or wear pink). But you're also practical. You can hang with the guys, as long as they're not too gross!

How Girly Are You?

Yeah, I'm really not either...

5 things I learned last week

Intended to be a weekly Sunday series, so knowing me, this will be "whenever I get around to it."

That being said, this week I learned that:

1. Orange and maroon is actually a most flattering color-combination on me.


2. Declining ice cream with an excuse of "I'm in training for a half-marathon" does not necessarily help you later on get beer out of the same person who offered you the ice cream.


3. But sometimes, it helps you get beer out of his cuter friend....


4. Sometimes guys like to get a clear coat on their toes.


5. I will never be too old to stop believing in or be inspired the beauty of the human spirit.