Confessions of a Drama Duchess

Operation Find Don

2008-12-09T19:11:00.004-05:00

I found the original version of this post in the weeks after 9/11. Unable to believe what I had seen that bright, sunny morning, I sought out the accounts of those who were actually there. Who'd actually be able to put a human face on the tragedy and make me, finally, begin to comprehend that what I had seen with Aaron Brown and Wolf Blitzer wasn't the Jerry Bruckheimer-style action adventure that I'd hoped and I prayed I'd been watching that day.

I know it's morbid, but at the time it actually helped with the healing process.

One of the posts I'd read during that time was a plea from a girl who'd survived to help her find her "disaster buddy." The guy was an African American man who'd she met in the NYC financial district (though not in the WTC complex itself) in the early moments of 9/11. They'd stuck together until he was finally put on a boat to Jersey at the end of the day, and then she never saw him again. She knew almost nothing about him...Jersey, birthday, looked like Blair Underwood around the eyes. All she wanted to do was buy him a beer. Her mother wasn't sure if angels - and that's what she was convinced her daughter's new friend was - drank beer.

After reading the post, I clicked on to the next, and soon it was lost to the millions of blog postings on the 9/11 tragedy. Still, every September I thought about the girl and the man, and while their names had been lost to me - she remained "something with an 'S,'" the blog 'strawberries or a tomato'" - I've often wondered if she'd ever found him.

About an hour ago, I got an update from the most unexpected source, like, ever.

My sister, whom some of you may know has just moved in with me after being laid off in NYC, has been watching the first season of Degrassi High (the old one when both Joey and Snake still had hair) on Netflix. When she got tonight's disc, I found myself trying to catch up. A google search of "Claude Kills Himself" landed me here, and after laughing my way through the post, I noticed the line:

Sarah mixes it up about TV and more over at Tomato Nation.

Suddenly, it clicked, and so did I.

It only took me a few moments to find the post I'd been looking for from September 14, 2001. Even today, seven years later, I found the emotions were flooding back, most especially the ones of peace that this girl, who was my age, had found someone to hold her hand and hope for a future where she could actually buy that man a beer.

Sadly, the update from this past September reveals that while my search for this post that affected me so deeply all those years ago is over, Sarah's search still continues. However, it seems that Sarah has, in the ensuing years, begun to become more and more open to the possibility that Don was, in fact, an angel. By her own admission, she may not believe in them, but there's still that possibility. I don't know. I believe in angels; but I also believe that people, real people, have an inherent good in them that make them appear at the moment you most need them.

Just in case Don is not an angel and is actually a flesh-and-blood man, the search continues. If you happen to know someone who lived in Jersey City, NJ in September of '01, whose birthday is 9/11, and who "looks like Blair Underwood around the eyes," tell him that a girl named Sarah is looking for him, and that her readers are looking for a happy ending.

Image of Blair Underwood shamlessly boosted from his official website.

Happy Happy

2008-09-12T16:39:00.001-04:00

Congratulations, Jon and Vinny!!!

Signs to slow down, and other random thoughts

2008-06-11T17:00:00.003-04:00

I'm sitting at Grand Cru, and the work network is down.

Actually, I'm not sure if it's "down down" or if it's just not letting me on. Either way, I'm taking it as a sign to slow down, drink some wine, and blog before I pay my bill and move on to Cafe Hon. The food may not be great, but at least the network is secure, which means I can get on to the work network.

Like that's a bad thing. Then again, that means lots more hours tomorrow....

In the meantime, I'm flirtexting with a boy in Charlotte. Of course it's strictly professional and won't go anywhere, but still. :)

The highlight of my weekend was singing at my friend's wedding reception. I sang "Fever" at her real wedding in February. Of course, the music (both copies) then didn't work, so I sang without music. Still, according to the small assembled group of guests, the Elvis hired for the occasion looked at me, singing her up the aisle a cappella and had a look on his face like "Yeah-I-should-just-pack-up-now."

This time, I sang "Making Whoopee" for their "first dance." They're such wonderful friends that it was an honor to do that for them. J told me I was "pitchy" when I was practicing at the house, but the bride was happy and everyone who didn't realize I was a recording told me I sounded great, so I'm thinking I did something right. After all, this was the girl (J) who told me, as I was walking into the American Idol auditions to switch the song to "9-5." Bad idea, that one. ;)

Then, as I was walking off, the Groom's Grammy walked up to me. She hugged me and asked if I would sing "Fever" again. She had told me in Vegas that Peggy Lee was her favorite singer, and when I put the music together for the party, I had included the song on the off chance "Whoopee" didn't work in the DJ's equipment. Not that, upon reflection, the second song on the SAME CD wouldn't suffer the same fate, but at least I tried.

Needless to say, I met the request. I checked with the bride and groom, and both of them had the attitude of "whatever Grammy wants, Grammy gets." She's such an awesome lady that I was glad to do it for her and them. Seriously, the groom reminds me of my dad in ways that I can't quite believe and the bride is the type of friend that I thank God daily that I have in my life. Though, I still had to focus away from everything when I looked out of the corner of my eye and found the groom's hot-but-young cousin and cousin-in-law snapping across the floor like extras from West Side Story. Otherwise, yeah, I would have laughed my ass off. ;) Still, this time I had music and Grammy was happy. Yay!!

My next "gig" is Walt's Inn this Friday. Come by, bring your vocal chords, and let's boogie!! ;)

I am

2008-05-12T20:51:00.003-04:00

A big skinny loser!!! 3.6 lbs in a week.

Frankly, I think my body owes me. For the last five weeks, I've been slowly inching my way up into the territory that drove me to WW a year ago. Then, I run a half marathon last weekend (2:48:10) and I still go up!!! I wasn't expecting anything big this week, but I played by the rules (translation: counted the points), practically lived in the ladies room at work (drank the water), and ended up pleasantly surprised.

I also stopped going out to dinner every night. Yeah, that probably had a lot to do with it.

If it's nice tomorrow, I'm going to try to get a walk in before devoting myself to the hell that is Summer Reorg. I've tasted [the] blood (of a loss) and I WANT MORE!

The language of the kiss? Yeah, more like Kiss Off!

2008-05-11T19:29:00.001-04:00

Sigmund Freud would probably have something to say about me having these thoughts on Mother’s Day (Happy, Happy, Mom!), but I swear that was a coincidence. I had these while vacuuming, which, upon reflection, Freud would probably have had something to say about as well. Oh well, I never denied being neurotic.

Nor have I ever denied being romantic. I believe in fairy tales, true love, and perfect kisses. That’s where I tend to get into trouble.

There are a lot of truths in kisses, and I remember the important ones: My first tongue-kiss, on the bus on the way home from the Band Competition; being attacked by “the octopus” in front of my sister and her date at Ring Dance; the crazy near-kiss at Chanco; the one in the Godwin parking lot that cold November night; and the one when I turned my back on one friend and my heart to another. That last one was a mistake, but I’m glad I remember it. It taught me that I should never, EVER do that again and to always be grateful to a friend who knows the power of forgiveness.

I also remember the first kiss I shared with the last guy. The one I initiated, the one with a man I very nearly fell in love with this year...until I realized I was initiating every kiss we had shared during our relationship.

I’ve never been the aggressive type. Sure, I’ve initiated my fair share of kisses, but when we’re both on the same page, the split has been so minimal, that I’ve never really noticed it before. I guess I’ve assumed that it’s 50/50, and if I’m to the point where I’m not interested in kissing someone anymore (it happens), I break it off with a pretty little speech. I don’t leave someone hanging for six months, waiting, praying for me to kiss them, and then playing hot and cold with their psyche -- disappointing them time and time again.

And yet, that’s what happened. I swear, it was like dating me in high school. A very nice person who was connecting emotionally, but refused to connect “physically.” My defense back then was that I was a “good girl.” Still, while I wasn’t giving up the goods, I was giving up enough of the above-the-jaw action to make it clear that I was into the guy. Plus, I was way under 18, and in Virginia “abstinence counted.”

I’m not 18 anymore. I’m also quite cute, skinnier than the average American, have a drawer full of hot lingerie, pushing 30, and at my sexual peak. That means that when I date a guy for six months, I expect to get laid. And yet, he wasn’t even kissing me...A girl could get a complex. Believe me, I seriously did.

It wasn’t halitosis: I brush and floss regularly, and I verified the minty-fresh quality of my breath with trusted friends. It wasn’t smoker’s mouth: apart from an occasional cigar, I never touch tobacco. I have all my teeth, my gums are in the right place, I have no piercings that would be off-putting to anyone who was about to put his tongue in my mouth, I wear normal shades of lipstick, and I (as I said) am pretty damn cute. I also, shall we say, studied French in high school. Believe me, when a man kisses me, he wants to do it again.

And yet, he didn’t. I couldn’t figure it out then, and I still can’t now! Here he was, a perfectly normal guy who seemed to be content with the idea that I was doing all the work!!! Where was the fun in that, I ask you? I already work 50 hours a week!

I couldn’t even ask anyone. After all, his best friend was dating my best male friend. The guru who before had helped me decipher the intricacies of the male mind was suddenly someone I couldn’t talk to for fear that my insecurities would get back to HIM. When I did attempt to talk to my boy, his girlfriend would remind me that HE had been hurt badly in the past and that I needed to tread carefully with his heart.

That part I got. You guys all know I’ve been badly hurt myself. Therefore, I wasn’t going to push him into a physical relationship when he wasn’t ready, and I was going to work to foster the emotional side. Still, the kissing thing continued to bother me, and with no one to turn to, I made a command decision.

I stopped kissing him. Granted, he was in Virginia and I in Maryland, but it was still three or four times from the time I made my grand decision to the last time I saw him. I would hug, I would talk, I would do everything I could to keep the conversation going, even if it meant self-monologuing. I was going to make this work, dammit, I had to. Just trust me.

And I never got kissed.

And so it was over. I devoted exactly enough time to the break-up as I felt he granted to the fostering of our relationship over the course of our six months together. I was satisfied, and I have high hopes for us being friends in the future.

So why am I bringing it up now? Simple: I’m starting to date again, and I’ve found that my confidence has foundered. Instead of being the funny, beautiful, confident girl that I was a year ago, the combination of Phoenix and this last round has made me start to wonder if there is something seriously wrong with me. (Preparing for inappropriate comments now).

I hate when the only type of fuck a guy offers is a mind one. At this point, I’d settle for an elbow ala RHPS!

On second thought, maybe not. Rif Raff had his own neuroses to deal with....

Did you miss me?

2008-05-11T17:40:00.003-04:00

I'm sure, but your aim is probably getting better.

Something to think about....

Last night

2008-03-07T09:44:00.003-05:00

You guys haven’t gotten a story from me in a while, so here we go….

Last night, I get home, and I’m walking from the car to the house when this guy probably around 22 stumbles out of a cab (thank God), tries to open the gate to the fence surrounding the house (um, there actually wasn’t one – fence OR gate) and failing to do that, falls face-first on the concrete stairs leading up to the house. This is the side of the street with a ton of stairs, so I’m not feeling too confident about his chances of actually getting up them without the police and a CSI unit being there in the morning (of course it’d be eventually ruled accidental, but still). I offer to help the guy up them. Not quite sure what I can actually do about that, but I figured I’d try. He lolls his head over and yells at me to leave him there. Nice. The driver sees this, gets out and goes, “Do you know this guy (I didn’t); does he belong here? (Not a clue).”

We decide not to leave him on the front steps so the driver grabs him around the waist, and I go up and start banging on the door. Then, when we realize no one’s home, we start dragging him up the stairs so at least he’ll be on the porch and not lying face first on the sidewalk. Even if it’s random, it’s better than nothing. Since he’s 100% dead weight, this isn’t fun. The driver is yelling at him to at least help (yeah that’s gonna work). We’re most of the way up, the guy’s pants are falling down, and the door to the house finally opens.

First thing I notice, stuff is EVERYWHERE. Seriously, it’s like the packrats from hell live there. Second thing, the guy who answered the door is preparing to yell at ME for getting what I presume is his son in that condition (completely obliterated and now half-naked! – Kinda sounds like an ad for a sleazy club on the Block, but I digress). Cab Driver steps in and goes, “Do you know this guy?”

Father: Yes, what the HELL happened (this is directed at me)?

Me (smiling, attempting not to provoke): No clue. I’m your neighbor, this is the cab driver. I was just walking by…

Cab Driver (who’s pissed that he’s now dragged this guy up the stairs and doesn’t know if he’s going to have to drag him down): His friend gave me $20 to take him home. Is…this…home?

Father: Yep.

Instead of taking his kid from the cabby, he just opens the door to let him inside. I drop the arm I’m holding, but seriously, there is an established order to these things. Whether it’s a pizza or a drunk-ass kid, if a stranger shows up to the door to deliver something and it’s not from IKEA, you accept it with a smile and a tip and you transport it inside yourself.

Thinking about it though, I bet the driver didn’t even get a tip.

The very model of a modern major rap song

2007-11-26T17:18:00.000-05:00

Love this!

Dating the living is hard enough

2007-11-21T20:54:00.000-05:00

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

2007-11-13T04:18:00.000-05:00

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

2007-11-04T14:51:00.000-05:00

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

2007-11-04T14:26:00.000-05:00

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

2007-10-24T17:55:00.000-04:00

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

2007-10-17T17:04:00.000-04:00

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?

2007-10-15T08:04:00.001-04:00

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

2007-10-03T18:14:00.000-04:00

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...

This is a STOP SIGN. When you see it, you DO NOT MOVE YOUR BIG-ASS CAR!!
This is a WALK SIGN. When you see it, and me, you DO NOT MOVE YOUR BIG-ASS CAR!!
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

2007-10-01T18:25:00.000-04:00

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

2007-09-29T09:43:00.000-04:00

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.

2007-09-26T10:36:00.000-04:00

Congratulations, Cassie and Aaron!!

Um, Hands Down, I guess

2007-09-07T03:27:00.000-04:00

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

Wonkette

It's back!!

2007-09-01T14:44:00.000-04:00

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

2007-08-20T17:00:00.000-04:00

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

2007-08-20T16:47:00.000-04:00

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

2007-08-07T09:44:00.001-04:00

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??? ;)

2007-07-30T01:51:00.000-04:00

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...

2007-07-27T20:31:00.000-04:00

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

2007-07-26T16:36:00.000-04:00

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

2007-07-24T17:25:00.000-04:00

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

2007-07-22T07:23:00.000-04:00

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

2007-07-13T09:12:00.000-04:00

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):

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.

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.

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.

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

2007-07-13T03:09:00.000-04:00

Sirius-ly...

2007-07-11T19:33:00.000-04:00

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

2007-07-09T18:02:00.000-04:00

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

2007-07-09T11:16:00.001-04:00

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

2007-07-05T19:15:00.000-04:00

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

2007-07-04T07:36:00.000-04:00

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

2007-06-26T17:44:00.000-04:00

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!)

2007-06-23T14:33:00.001-04:00

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

2007-06-22T09:30:00.001-04:00

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....

2007-06-12T16:26:00.000-04:00

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

2007-06-06T05:30:00.000-04:00

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

2007-05-25T18:41:00.000-04:00

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!

2007-05-19T16:31:00.000-04:00

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

2007-05-13T15:39:00.000-04:00

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?

2007-05-03T20:50:00.000-04:00

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?

2007-04-26T21:05:00.000-04:00

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

2007-04-22T18:20:00.000-04:00

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:

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

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.

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

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

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

A Word from the Hokie Nation

2007-04-17T19:12:00.000-04:00

Virginia Tech family members across the country have united to declare this Friday, April 20th, an "Orange and Maroon Effect" day to honor those killed in the tragic events on campus Monday, and to show support for Virginia Tech students, faculty, administrators, staff, alumni, and friends. "Orange and Maroon Effect" was born several years ago as an invitation to Tech fans to wear orange and maroon to Virginia Tech athletic events. We invite everyone from all over the country to be a part of the Virginia Tech family this Friday, to wear orange and maroon to support the families of those who were lost, and to support the school and community we all love so much.

Also, many young Engineering Professionals around the country are taking their Professional Certification exam this Friday. Many are young VT Graduates who have lost professors and friends in these awful events. As Certified Engineers will tell you, studying for this exam has consumed their lives for the last several months. To have this happen in the home stretch is simply not what they need. If you could please take some time on Friday to send some warm thoughts and good luck their way, I'm sure it will help and be appreciated.

The Dawg Pound ♥'s Hokie Nation!

April 16, 2007

2007-04-16T16:02:00.000-04:00

There is a saying in the Hills of Virginia that "of course God is a Hokie fan. How else can you explain why the trees turn Orange and Maroon in the fall?"

Of course, there are other sayings about the only intelligent sign of life in Blacksburg being the mileage sign to Harrisonburg, how if you couldn't get into a "college" like UVA, you went to Hokie High, and how if you wanted a good date to the campus formal, you needed to tip early. But, then again, none of that is important right now.

What is important is that the illusions we had about our college campuses being safe were shattered in a few hours this morning. In what appeared to be an isolated incident at the time, some asshat with a gun shot his ex girlfriend in West Ambler Johnston Hall (West AJ). Then, two hours later, he was in the Engineering Building, taking at least 30 people with him as he went down in a "blaze of glory."

Again...asshat. We could talk about the selfishness of killing oneself, but seriously people, if you're gonna do it, please consider doing it in such a way that is personal and private and involves minimal clean-up. Of course, before you get that far, please also consider calling a suicide hot line like 1.800.273.8255 (TALK). These people can help. Let them.

In the days and weeks to come, I'm sure we'll learn more about this, the worst mass shooting in US History. We will come to know what motivated the gunman and what he was doing minute-by-minute. It will come to define a generation of college students in the way that Columbine defined our little brothers and sisters eight years ago and the way Kent State defined our parents. It will be talk-show fodder and a ratings booster (though really, ABC7 in DC, did you HAVE to use an orange and maroon crosshairs logo?) for the more insensitive of our mass-media outlets. Fox News, I can't wait to see what you come up with. Then again, maybe I can.

And slowly, life will go on in Blacksburg. The trees will turn orange and maroon again. We will drive down from Harrisonburg to see our first string be humiliated by their third-string. Exams will be taken, freshmen will travel in packs, mass quantities of bourbons and cokes will be consumed. UVA will still be full of themselves. Things will get back to normal...eventually.

But for a moment, a brief moment, don't forget to put your heart into the hills of Blacksburg. Then take your heart out. Put your heart back in and...well, you know the rest.

After all, commitment to healing and the brotherhood of all Virginians...isn't that what it's all about?

My Tivo thinks...

2007-04-15T12:52:00.001-04:00

It's a common scenario with Tivo users: you tape a few things that are outside of your normal viewing range, and the next thing you know, your Tivo is suggesting that you fit a certain stereotype.

For instance, let's say that you have a thing for Michelle Williams. You start by taping TBS' daily dose of Dawson's Creek. Then, you realize that HBO is running both If These Walls Could Talk II and Brokeback Mountain. Add those to the list, and don't be surprised when your Tivo gives you a season pass to Queer Eye for the Straight Guy!

Thankfully I don't have Tivo. I shudder to think what types of shows it would recommend after it discovered my penchant for the Law and Order franchise, Homicide: Life on the Street, and all those reality crime docs on A&E. What I do have, however, is a new Netflix account (yes, I know, welcome to the 21st Century). And if my current top ten is any indication of my personality, then I'd have to guess that my Netflix account thinks that I'm an 80 year old British woman.

Actually, knowing the tastes of the last 80 year old British woman I knew, they wouldn't be far off....

Aside from the last disc of The 10th Kingdom (it came highly recommended) and The X-Files: Fight the Future, (I'm officially hooked now), the top 10 is full of classic movies that I always intended to watch, but never quite got around to. There's Lover Come Back (Rock Hudson and Doris Day), I Was a Male War Bride and People Will Talk(Cary Grant). I'd have thrown in The Philadelphia Story (Cary Grant AND Jimmy Stewart!!) except that it's always on AMC (and yes, I always watch), so why waste the pick? Then, there's How Green was My Valley? (post WWII Welsh village), The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer (a movie that I've tried to watch for years and can't seem to catch anything but the last half-hour of), Bobby, Little Children (finally, two modern picks), Interstate 60 (an indie from 2002), and Happenstance (because I love reading my movies when they star Audrey Tatou).

I'm also admitting to the Netflix people that I have yet to see several films that are considered "required" viewing amongst human society of a certain age. Like The 40-Year-Old Virgin, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Where Angels Go, Trouble Follows (which is NOT to be confused with Angels with Dirty Faces -- a different movie entirely) and The Journey of Natty Gann (which I may have seen years ago, but I have virtually no recollection of -- strange because you'd think I'd have remember a Jon Cusack movie!!).

So, obviously, it's going to take me quite a while to get through these, and I've got items on the list that aren't even out on DVD (like Grace is Gone and Stephanie Daley). In the meantime, I'm seriously enjoying learning about movies that Netflix swears I'm going to like and trying to psycho-analyze its psychoanalysis of me. For example, did you know that just because I liked Casablanca, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington, and It Happened One Night, I was going to LOVE The Day the Earth Stood Still? Neither did I, but I don't think I'm going to find out any time soon. After all, Fox Mulder aside, you guys know how much I hate UFOs!

2007-04-13T06:37:00.000-04:00

One of the benefits of being kicked out of your office for a week (the contractors showed up the first day of Spring Break to find the Ladies' Room ripped out and workmen applying power saws to the walls outside our cubes) is getting to watch a LOT of CourtTV. So far this week, I've caught the Maury-style reveal of Baby Dannielynn's father, the North Carolina AG throwing Mike Nifong under a bus, and this crazy-ass case out of New Jersey where this woman is accused of shooting her husband, chopping him up, and tossing the pieces in *matching luggage* into the Chesapeake Bay. No, don't put him in the crappy bags from your college days, put him in the easily tracable matching set. Sure, that's smart.

Of the three, it's the New Jersey case that has both fascinated and disturbed me most. Sure, Anna Nicole is good entertainment, and Nifong deserved to be disbarred the moment he started running his mouth and hiding evidence, but that case out of New Jersey is just really really strange. First off, she's adorable. No prison blues and oranges for her, she's always in these innocent little dresses and sweater sets. And you know, nothing says "innocent" like a sweater set. Actually, wasn't there an entire sitcom episode (possibly Murphy Brown) based on the innocence of sweater sets?

Ok, moving on. The second point is that she's got plenty of people lined up as character witnesses. The weird thing (which, of course, I've learned from CourtTV) is that the character witnesses comprise pretty much her entire defense. Instead of relying on alibis and evidence that distinctly say that the defendant DIDN'T do it, they're using these character witnesses to claim that the defendant COULDN'T have done it because, as they put it, "She's just not that kind of person." According to CourtTV, these are the types of people who are usually pulled out during the penalty phase, after conviction, when the court is trying to decide between ten years and life. Not good.

The third problem with the case is the fact that, despite her innocent attire and the parade of character witnesses extolling her virtues to the American public, she looks like a psycho!! Now, my poker face isn't that great, and my old boss used to send me notes to "smile" during meetings when our client started berating us for meeting old requirements when we were supposed to have read his mind and adjusted our deliverables to meet the psychic requirements, but this woman is out of control. Any prosecution witness that wasn't there thanks to a supeona was given a look that could freeze the Dead Sea. Seriously, if she was trying to convince the jury that she was sweet and innocent, it simply wasn't working. I haven't seen a face that evil since I ran screaming out of a Sunday school viewing of The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe (the cartoon version, not the live-action one that came out a few years ago).

They're in the middle of the defense right now, and I believe that they'll be wrapping up next week sometime. If I had to make a call, I'd say she was going up river. Oh wait, that was her husband....

Viva...Atlantic City

2007-04-13T06:31:00.000-04:00

I'm heading up to Atlantic City in two weeks ($50, private bus, let me know if you're interested in going because we have a few seats left), and I've been thinking about the different "activities" that should be keeping me busy during the day. When I go out to Vegas, I usually go with slots because they're so mindless that I can keep playing without losing too much cash, and the casino staff keeps bringing me drinks. It's almost like I'm making money.

But this time around, I'm not interested in slots. For starters, I'm going with a huge group who, if the "itinerary" for the day is any indication, will be plastered before we leave Maryland. Then, I'm auctioning off a bottle of Bombay Sapphire on behalf of a charity event that I'm helping with (because nothing goes together better than Catholic kids and booze, but that's another story), and I'm thinking of putting together a batch of Witches' Brew as my own personal contribution to the days' activities.

So, clearly, games of skill are out. I'd probably make a ton of stupid mistakes (19? Sure, go ahead and hit me!), and almost certainly get myself arrested by beaning some little old lady with a die , attempting to play craps. Roulette's a possibility, but spinning wheels and alcohol don't tend to go together real well either.

So that leaves...what? Texas hold 'em? I've played plenty of friendly games and online tourneys after a few glasses of wine. It's a distinct possibility I could hold my own. Plus, I've memorized most of the rules, if not the exact order of what beats what (two pair beats trips, right?). I could probably hold my own at a table if I found one with a small buy in.

But still, there has to be something else that I haven't yet thought of. Beyond, of course, wandering the boardwalk and pretending to be a Miss America contestant. Then again, the pageant hasn't been held in AC since 2005(?), and I haven't aspired to put a crown on my head since I was 17.

Right, so if there are any ideas, let me know. Otherwise, I'll just stick to slots (and the free drinks that come with them).

Satuday's Date

2007-04-09T20:13:00.000-04:00

I don't ask for much.

All right, maybe I do, but I don't think I ask for much, at least on a first date. A little coffee, a little conversation, and a little bit of a sense that the person I' m actually caffinating and conversating with actually, you know, plays.for.my.team.

Since we're talking about this, you can probably guess that the person that I went out with on Saturday was "questionable." Unless, of course, I've totally missed a world where a straight man admits that he's obsessed with Broadway Musicals, and wanted to know which ones I was in, and if I was interested in being in his next one.

As far the rest of the conversation, oh wait, there wasn't. Well, I suppose you could count the "interview portion" where he started to realize that he was sounding just a little flamboyant and started grilling me about work as conversation, if I wasn't so scared.

I tried. Really. To steer the conversation into another direction. ANY DIRECTION. Sadly, it was not to be. I talked about Homicide: Life on the Street, which somehow jumped straight over Law and Order and found itself squarely on the door of Rent. Literature launched a decidedly one-sided debate over what was the better show: Phantom or Les Miz. I decided not to go with travel: If we were about to enter an Oklahoma! or South Pacific arena, I knew I wasn't going to be able to withhold myself from running screaming from the coffee shop.

The evening wasn't entirely wasted, though. After I left the coffee shop, I escaped to the bar where I started writing (best way to get noticed: write quietly to yourself in a crowded bar). I met a fellow writer who asked to see some of my stuff and give it a bit of a critique. I sent him the voting story, and I'm debating sending some of the others (like the lonely lawyer). If you've got suggestions, feel free to put 'em in the comments!

Do you believe in Faries?

2007-04-09T19:41:00.000-04:00

That bitch owes me big.

Anyone who's seen the Mary Martin version of Peter Pan knows the scene...

"Do you believe?" he cried.

Tink sat up in bed almost briskly to listen to her fate.

She fancied she heard answers in the affirmative, and then again she wasn't
sure.

"What do you think?" she asked Peter.

"If you believe," he shouted to them, "clap your hands; don't let Tink
die."

Many clapped.

Some didn't.

A few beasts hissed.

In case you were wondering, from now on, I will be one of the hissing beasts.

Today was the O's Home Opener, and of course I missed the game. Strangely enough, it was my choice. See, Arizona just got back to town, and while he was gone, he didn't mention anything about the game. Then, the "pajama game" happened, and I thought that he wasn't as into me as I was into him. So I decided to give him up emotionally, but since he was out of town, we didn't exactly have the conversation that completely ended the situation.

But still, in order to have gone to the game, Bea and I would have had to come up with our own tickets. Then we would have done this whole switching around thing where we would have been in the "good seats" for half the game and the "bad seats" for the other half.

Small problem, Bea and I never found tickets.

So, there we were, resigned to not going and making plans to find a sports bar to go watch the game at. Until I got the most random text last night: What's the plan for tomorrow?

Tomorrow? I thought we weren't going! I thought he had completely forgotten about the plan since he hadn't mentioned anything about it in six weeks.

Frankly, I shouldn't have been surprised. After all, this wasn't the first time he had pulled a stunt just like this...tossing out a half plan, ignoring me for an extended period of time, and then coming out of left field with the idea that I had somehow agreed to the whole thing.

Almost immediately, I decided that I wasn't going to play this game again. I was honest: Bea and I never found tickets, and started the debate amongst the group.

At one point, I threw out the idea that "If he was a 'gentleman,' he'd give US the tickets, and let us find cute boys." Imagine my surprise when, just after I hit the "SEND" button, he called with that very idea. Well, not the cute boys part, but he offered to let us sit together, and he'd take the odd-ball ticket on the other side of the stadium.

I was tempted. Very tempted. Then, I started thinking. Would it really be right to take the seats? After all, it wasn't like he was going to get another shot with me. If I took them, he may have interpreted that as a signal that I was willing to play along with his totally screwed up sense of what's supposed to happen when someone shaves her legs and flies 3,000 miles to see someone else.

So again, I was honest: Way too cold to go today. And I started to convince myself of that very fact.

Until, of course, I actually went outside to meet Bea at the bar. The weather was actually gorgeous. A little chillier than the normal start of the season, I suppose, but certainly managable.

So really, it was down to the ethics fairy. She was the whole reason I decided to miss the game.

Does anyone have any bug spray?

Big Day

2007-04-02T20:54:00.000-04:00

Just wanted to wish my Jewish friends a very Happy Passover. In case you're not familiar with the story, here it is.

And just so the Gentiles don't feel left out, Happy Opening Day! Dare we dream that the O's can take it this year??

I have heard...

2007-03-28T06:56:00.001-04:00

Two different versions of the same song within the same half hour this
morning. And it's not a new song at all, it's freaking "Always on My
Mind"!

Of the two, I think I prefer Willie Nelson's original recipe over the
Pet Shop Boys' "SVU edition."

Somehow, however, I think this must mean something. Trust me, I'm
looking into it....

He's back...

2007-03-25T12:29:00.000-04:00

Ok, seriously, I want to know who gave my blog address to Potter. Oh, since I tend to use aliases, your hint (at least for the Baltimore folks) is -- same first name, same last initial.

Know who it is? Ok, then who's been spilling?

Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?

Someone must have because whenever I seem to be going through some inner turmoil about my dating situation, this guy shows up. He's dormant for months waiting, it seems, for me to start doubting the man of the moment. As soon as I do, I get an email from him.

"Just checking in," it says. "How are you doing?"

Usually that's it. And I start to think, how AM I doing? Professionally, I'm doing supremely well. Well enough, in fact, that if I focused on that, I think I could actually talk to Potter. But it's the dating side of it that I don't want to get into. I don't want to let in (even through email), that all is not well in the world of men. Because as much as I don't want to date him, any inkling that he may receive of that would mean a constant onslaught of emails and embarrassing stories where he takes a joke out of context and attempts to "flirt" with me by repeating this out of context joke over and over in situations where I'm trying to maintain a modicum of dignity.

Anyway, he's back. Lucky me. Seriously, if it was you who dished the addy, please prepare for the consequences. Thanks.

Do you ever wonder

2007-03-24T05:45:00.000-04:00

If sometimes you're the only one who remembers a joke? Then, you find out that you weren't.

Case in point, a couple of years ago, my friend Erica and I were driving with another friend who kept cranking the radio every time Outkast's "Miss Jackson" (you know the one, Outkast apologizes for knocking the daughter up) came on. He was singing along with it and substituting Erica's last name at the time for "Jackson." It was a freaking riot at the time, and even now, when I hear that song (not as often as I'd like), I can't help singing along with Ryan's "edits." Just one of the reasons I don't do that song at Karaoke.

So, I thought I was the only one who remembered that until this morning, when I checked the now-married and pregnant (but not to Ryan! Funny, but NO) Erica's Myspace page. There it was, blaring out....

I'm sorry Miss Jackson, I am for REAL.
Never meant to make your daughter cry
I apologize a trillion times

This is why I love CNN.com

2007-03-14T07:40:00.000-04:00

From the article about the search in NYC for guy who mugged the 101 Year
Old woman...

Meanwhile, New Yorkers struggled for the right words to describe the
attacker because expletives just don't seem adequate.

It's a Small World, After All

2007-03-08T12:24:00.001-05:00

I took French. I understand it (if you speak slowly enough), I read it, and I speak enough of it to not make a total ass of myself anywhere outside of Paris.

I can master one, and only one, complete sentence in Spanish. Thank you, Jack Wagner, for that.

Apparently, I'm not the only one....

I randomly came across the Number1HappyStreet blog this afternoon. He just got back from Disney World and had this to say....

I have never taken any Spanish, but after a week of riding the Monorail, I can now alert Hispanics to stand clear of moving doors if ever the need arises.

Bring out the dancing dolls, it's a Small World after all.

By the by, this absolutely gorgeous monorail photo was taken by Flickr user StartedByAMouse.

It's not too late

2007-03-06T16:53:00.000-05:00

To make plans to check out my friend's show at the Hamilton Art's Collective tomorrow night in Baltimore!

Seriously, if I can muster up an email to some guy I haven't seen in like a dozen years, you can muster the energy to come on out and laugh your ass off.

It's a fair trade.

8:00 tomorrow. $10 at the door. Free cider until it runs out and then it's BYOB.

Books O Rama

2007-03-06T08:05:00.001-05:00

What do the books I've read say about me? What would your list look like?

I borrowed this from someone in the blog-o-sphere since it reminded me of books I want to add to my reading list. Look at the list of books below.

Bold the ones you've read
Italicize the ones you want to read
Leave blank the ones that you aren't interested in.

Do with this information what you will. I don't tag people, but feel free to play along. I guess I'm cheating a little, but I'm also counting books on tape. I figure it's still "reading" if you're stuck in traffic enjoying a book. Plus, it's really the only way that I gotthrough the LOTR trilogy. Those are starred and bolded...

The Da Vinci Code (Dan Brown)
Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen) -- mmmmmm....Darcy....
To Kill A Mockingbird (Harper Lee)
Gone With The Wind (Margaret Mitchell)
The Lord of the Rings: Return of the King (Tolkien)*
The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring (Tolkien)*
The Lord of the Rings: Two Towers (Tolkien)*
Anne of Green Gables (L.M. Montgomery) -- read the wholeseries too...my favorite chapter is the last one of the last book.
Outlander (Diana Gabaldon)
A Fine Balance (Rohinton Mistry)
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Rowling)
Angels and Demons (Dan Brown)
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Rowling)
A Prayer for Owen Meany (John Irving)
Memoirs of a Geisha (Arthur Golden)*
Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (Rowling)
Fall on Your Knees(Ann-Marie MacDonald)
The Stand (Stephen King)
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Rowling)
Jane Eyre (Charlotte Bronte)
The Hobbit (Tolkien)*
The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger) -- SHOCKING, I know!
Little Women (Louisa May Alcott)
The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold)
Life of Pi (Yann Martel)
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams)
Wuthering Heights (Emily Bronte)
The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe (C. S. Lewis)
East of Eden (John Steinbeck) *
Tuesdays with Morrie (Mitch Albom)*
Dune (Frank Herbert)
The Notebook (Nicholas Sparks)* -- word to the wise, don't listen to this in the car. I almost got into an accident in South Carolina because I was crying so hard.
Atlas Shrugged (Ayn Rand)
1984 (Orwell)
The Mists of Avalon (Marion Zimmer Bradley)
The Pillars of the Earth (Ken Follett)
The Power of One (Bryce Courtenay)
I Know This Much is True (Wally Lamb)
The Red Tent (Anita Diamant)
The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho)
The Clan of the Cave Bear (Jean M. Auel)
The Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)
Confessions of a Shopaholic (Sophie Kinsella)
The Five People You Meet In Heaven (Mitch Albom) -- LOVEIT!!
Bible -- Most of it.
Anna Karenina (Tolstoy)
The Count of Monte Cristo (Alexandre Dumas)
Angela's Ashes (Frank McCourt)
The Grapes of Wrath (John Steinbeck)
She's Come Undone (Wally Lamb) but I don't remember anything aboutit.
The Poisonwood Bible (Barbara Kingsolver)
A Tale of Two Cities (Dickens) -- It was the best of books, it was the worst of books....
Ender's Game (Orson Scott Card)
Great Expectations (Dickens)
The Great Gatsby (Fitzgerald)
The Stone Angel (Margaret Laurence)
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Rowling)
The Thorn Birds (Colleen McCullough)
The Handmaid's Tale (Margaret Atwood)
The Time Traveller's Wife (Audrew Niffenegger) -- it's up next
Crime and Punishment (Fyodor Dostoyevsky)
The Fountainhead (Ayn Rand)
War and Peace (Tolstoy)
Interview With The Vampire (Anne Rice)
Fifth Business (Robertson Davis)
One Hundred Years Of Solitude (Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants (Ann Brashares)
Catch-22 (Joseph Heller)
Les Miserables (Hugo)
The Little Prince (Antoine de Saint-Exupery)
Bridget Jones' Diary (Fielding)
Love in the Time of Cholera (Marquez) -- I just found out this was a real book.
Shogun (James Clavell)
The English Patient (Michael Ondaatje)
The Secret Garden (Frances Hodgson Burnett)
The Summer Tree (Guy Gavriel Kay)
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith)
The World According To Garp (John Irving)
The Diviners (Margaret Laurence)
Charlotte's Web (E.B. White)
Not Wanted On The Voyage (Timothy Findley)
Of Mice And Men (Steinbeck)
Rebecca (Daphne DuMaurier)
Wizard's First Rule (Terry Goodkind)
Emma (Jane Austen)
Watership Down(Richard Adams)
Brave New World (Aldous Huxley)
The Stone Diaries (Carol Shields)
Blindness (Jose Saramago)
Kane and Abel (Jeffrey Archer)
In The Skin Of A Lion (Ondaatje)
Lord of the Flies (Golding)
The Good Earth(Pearl S. Buck)
The Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd)
The Bourne Identity (Robert Ludlum)
The Outsiders (S.E. Hinton)
White Oleander (Janet Fitch)
A Woman of Substance (Barbara Taylor Bradford) -- Another great series that I need to read the rest of....
The Celestine Prophecy (James Redfield)
Ulysses (James Joyce) -- I tried once and got over it.

New York

2007-02-26T19:46:00.000-05:00

I know everyone's wondering...especially after those ultra-cryptic and very tired messages left on Friday. Yes, I was zonked, and yes, I'm zonked this morning because I was up late watching the Oscars last night. I thought Ellen was good, but I miss Billy Crystal. Plus, when Al Gore as the best line of the night, you kinda know you're in trouble. I only wish he really truly had announced his intentions!!

But I digress.

As for this weekend. OMG, you all have to see Avenue Q. It's positively amazing. I mean, it's no Wicked, but I can totally see how it beat the girls from Oz for Best Musical. Wow, I really am slow...I just realized that Hugh Jackman won that year for Boy From Oz, and Wicked is about a
Girl from Oz. Yes, I'm totally serious. Hey, did you guys know that the Red Sox won the World Series in 2003?

So, yeah, Friday. I didn't sleep on Thursday night. Maybe I shouldn't go out for pizza before bedtime. Maybe I shouldn't work a 12 hour day. Maybe I shouldn't combine cold meds with beer. Maybe I shouldn't fall asleep with the news on talking about Prince Harry's deployment to Iraq. Whatever the reason, I kept having a truly disturbing dream that I kept waking up from. Every. Half. Hour. And the problem with knowing that you have to be up at a certain super-early time the next morning is that you try to get back to sleep as quickly as possible. Unfortunately,
while this never happens with the dreams where I'm hooking up with Clooney, I tend to hop back into nightmares/the truly weird stuff right away. This means that I'm usually woken up again. And well, it's a vicious cycle.

At 3, the alarm went off. I finished packing, grabbed some tea, and called a cab (3:30). CabLady said that it'd be there within 15 minutes. If it wasn't, I was to call back. I gave him half an hour, and then had this conversation with the same lady:

ME: Hi, I called a cab half an hour ago, and it's not here yet.
CABLADY: You already called?
ME: Yes, you told me to call back in 15 if it wasn't there. I gave you half an hour.
CABLADY: Oh, well we cancelled it. You should have called back in 15 minutes.
ME: You cancelled the cab?? So, can I have another one please?
CABLADY: Yes, but if this one doesn't come in 15 minutes, call back. We use that to judge if you really want one.
ME: Fine.

Fifteen minutes later (it's 4:15, the train leaves at 4:45), I call back and, this time, apparently reach Sybil. Same voice of course, but...

ME: Hi, it's me again.
CABLADY: WHY YOU CALLING??????
ME: You told me to.
CABLADY: WHO TOLD YOU TO? WHO ARE YOU?
ME: You did... (WTF???) I called 45 minutes ago about a cab. It hasn't come yet. I have a train at 4:45, and really, if I miss it, it's entirely your fault. (Slightly unnecessary to point that out, I guess, but come on)
CABLADY: [Unintelligible, but it sounded like it ended with "itch"], I HAVE NO IDEA. IT AIN'T MY FAULT. NOW YOU QUIT CALLING ME, AND I'LL GET YOUR CAB WHEN I FEEL LIKE IT. GOT THAT LINDSAY?
ME: Um, ok (making a mental note to check all locks one more time -- after all, this person knows where I live and that I'm going to be out of town for a few days). One question though: how did you know my name when I didn't give it to you on this call, and you claim we haven't
talked yet this morning?
CABLADY: ... CLICK

At 4:30, I give up. I race to the train station and arrive just as the train is being announced for boarding. Thanks to my super-strength (ok flirty muscles), I make it.

I arrive in NYC at 7:15, make my way to Julia's and then lose like three hours. I have no idea seriously what I did beyond watch Thursday's Greys and lie awake staring at the ceiling. I tried to nap, honest, I just couldn't.

After passing myself off as my sister at the gym (this twin thing is good for some things!), I make my way home for a shower. I'm freezing when I get there, but then again, it's totally my fault for leaving the house and running for 5 blocks in a cute t-shirt, a thin hoodie, and crops in the middle of freaking February. Work out, watch the Anna Nicole Channel (AKA Court TV), and gain a whole new appreciation for the DAC and it's opportunity for Gov. O'Hottie spotting. On the way home, this very nice man offered to block the wind for me as I braced myself against the wind tunnel that is 10th Avenue. I appreciated that more than you know.

The afternoon was full of manual labor at my sister's office. They're moving cross-town and things needed to be packed. I worked my ass off, Jules, Theresa, and Merita worked theirs too. James sat on his all afternoon pretending to check accounts. As a result, no one felt bad about slipping me extra bottles of Bombay as I left (they're one of James'!).

Sadly, I still had to trek them (plus the tequila, the Pernod, two bottles of wine, my new cute clothes, and two rolodexes) home and thus began my second cab-adventure of the day. I waited on 43rd and 2nd for twenty minutes. Waiving my clawed hand (heavy bags, thin straps) like a
tourist and seriously considering jumping out in front of something to ensure that it stopped. If my reaction time wasn't as slow as it was, I probably would have gone for it, but as it was, I was having a hard enough time not walking into people. Cars would have been a nightmare. :(

Finally, though a cab came for me. I crawled in, heaped compliments on my knight in yellow armor, and told him my destination. We got about half a block down when a man with a gun tried to take it.

(I'm pausing for dramatic effect, but to be honest it's not as much fun when I can't see your faces. So, um, yeah...moving on....)

He was a NYPD Cadet who sort of confused our stopping at the light for stopping for HIM. He was halfway in the door when he realized I was sitting there, and I think I scared him. Hee.

At 4:30, I finally got my nap. At 5:15, Jules came home and I spent the next half hour talking to the roommates and the hairless wonder (no, not Britney...Charles' sphinx cat). Then, we went to this great wine bar and had shots of Rum and Coffee Tequila (interesting) with Nikki and the
Scottish bartender who looked like one of The Pretenders. I don't remember what we did after that, but I'm sure it was fun!

Saturday, we shopped and saw the show. Freaking awesome. Seriously, dirty puppets can give a girl a whole new appreciation for Sesame Street and the Electric Company. The "George Bush is only for now line" got a huge HUGE cheer.

Sunday, we went to the Moondance Diner (the place where Jesse L. Martin and Jonathan Larson used to work). I thought Victoria Jackson was behind us because this chick's voice was dead on. Turns out it was just two people who were higher than a kite and drunk off their asses. Still, majorly squeaky voice. They were slurring words and asked the "matre d'" for directions to a hotel three times. After the third time the guy waved him over and hit me on the back of the head, I seriously considered sending them on the subway up to 125th street (you know,
Harlem) just to watch them get their asses kicked. Mean? A little, but I think it would have been worth it.

Then, I loaded my booty into the backpack (haven't had that much liquor in there since college, and even then it was all plastic -- there are definite perks to having a sister who reps alcohol!), and the rolling bar and I hopped an early train thanks to the weather. I got back to B'more around 12:30 and drove home in one of the cutest snow storms I had ever seen. Can a snow storm be cute? I sure think so. :)

All in all, a great weekend. Though, I'm looking forward to the sunshiny goodness that should be Phonenix next week!!!

One word on last night's Greys

2007-02-16T05:15:00.000-05:00

AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

We don't know them...

2007-02-11T19:18:00.000-05:00

But we should.

They were doing their job.
She was on vacation.

They spent their last days surrounded by the sands of a desert that they never asked to go to.
She spent hers ordering desserts and drugs.

They leave behind families, children, lovers, and friends.
She leaves behind a little girl and at least three known baby-daddies.

They were defending our country.
She was defending her weight-loss secrets.

They were part of a senseless situation of someone else's creation.
She was a sensless creation all her own.

They were an incomplete press-release.
She's front-page news.

All four died on Thursday.

We don't know them...
But we should.

Beep Beep!

2007-02-11T18:24:00.000-05:00

We've all done it. We may not admit to doing it, but somewhere in our past history, we've all done it.

No, not that. Seriously, get your head out of the gutter!! I'm talking about throwing someone "under the bus" to save ourselves.

Anyone who's read my friend Bea's blog in the last week knows what I'm referring to, but since I've promised her no direct links, let me catch the rest of you up:

Last November, Bea and I went to a party at our friend Ginger's house. Great time. Lots of people. Lots of distractions, if you know what I mean. I hooked up with a friend from the past, Bea made a new friend.

Now, being that I was "otherwise engaged," I can honestly tell you that aside from Ginger's boyfriend, Elle's boyfriend, and my friend from the past, I couldn't pick the guys at that party out of a lineup. Seriously, all hell could have broken loose that night, and I would have been blissfully unaware of my surroundings.

Yes, the party was that good.

So fast forward to Tuesday night. I'm at a meeting and so are Bea and Ginger. Ginger's brought a friend who looks slightly familiar, but I think that it's because he bears a strong resemblance to David Sutcliffe from Gilmore Girls. I introduce myself, and NotChristopher says, "We've met."

Ginger then jumps in with, "Yep, he was at my party in November."

Being slightly embarrassed (I'm great with faces, terrible with names), I'm laughing as I grab Bea and go, "Oh so you must remember Bea too. Bea, this is NotChristopher."

Sure, I guess you could say that I threw her under the bus at that point (I didn't recognize him, maybe she wouldn't either. We'd all have a good laugh and move on). But it wasn't that simple. See, I was thinking it was like a bicycle. Bea, however, saw it more like a mack truck.

Reading her blog on Wednesday, I got the full story. To paraphrase (again, not linking because I promised not to, but I did tell her I was telling this story here, so I'm not tossing her under again if that's what you're thinking):

Last night, ran into a boy I made out with months ago. Linds laughed was laughing as she reintroduced us. That was a nice touch.

Photo by Flickr user Freja McQueen

Seriously. No. Clue. Whatsoever.

I immediately started explaining the laughter to her, and we've gotten some of our own shared-meaning laughter out of the whole situation. I'm just worried about what poor NotChristopher thinks!!!

Super Bowl 41

2007-02-05T19:45:00.000-05:00

Like most of you, I watched the game last night (ok, so maybe I fell asleep on Ryan's hawsome recliner during the third quarter, but DUDE I need to get one of those couches), and I was sorely disappointed in the offerings of some of my favorite yearly pitches. For example, did you know that there was absolutely NO Clydesdale commercial? I count on my horsies to make me cry like they did in 2002 and 2006 or laugh like they did in 2003, 2004, and 2006!! They made a quick cameo in a lame dog-centric commercial this year, but Bud, if you're listening, please bring back the horses.

My favorite commercial last night, hands down, was the Rock, Paper Scissors ad by Bud Light, with the wedding being a very close second. Nonetheless, it didn't quite live up to the Magic Fridge from last year.

Since I want to assure you that my favorites from years past don't strictly focus on beer (though it does help), these two are also classics in my book.

Of course, my all-time favorite sports-related commercial wasn't a Super Bowl spot at all. It aired just after the conclusion of the 2004 World Series, and I get chills every time I see it.

Got some favorites? Share them in the comments. As a special bonus (and just because you know you remember it from your childhood):

Just remember: as of today, they're all undefeated.

July 21, Baby, July 21!

2007-02-01T15:46:00.000-05:00

A couple of weeks ago, my sister wrote this post on her blog that summed up her own feelings about the end of the Harry Potter books. Anything I'd write about it at this point would just sound like I'm ripping her off, so I'm just going to add, "Yeah, what she said," and be done with it.

I will tell you, however, that if anyone here is looking for me the weekend of July 21, traditionally a busy weekend for me for a variety of reasons, you will find me curled up on my front porch with a Witches Brew in one hand and a book in the other. I will laugh, I will cry, and I will finish the book -- quite possibly in a single sitting. Don't worry, when I emerge from my diluted haze, kleenex in hand and crying over the death of probably a much-beloved character (Anyone care to wager? I'm sensing that Dean Thomas and Seamus don't walk out of Hogwarts alive.), I won't give anything away. A prefect always keeps her promises.

Oh, random thought! I should probably preorder at the B&N in Annapolis or at the one next to Hopkins. That way, I can get it on the way home from work instead of having to bust all the way around the beltway to Towson. Someone remind me I said that later, ok?

Confidential to JC: At least we're not going to be listening to it on tape at Laura's wedding after all. I know we were joking, but the idea of us busting out with commentary while the minister's going "Any objections?" still cracks me up.

Truth be told...

2007-01-30T16:52:00.000-05:00

I really can't get a read on how my interview went today. I know that the folks I talked to have a tremendous respect for me as a professional and a worker, but I really can't get a read on what they think of me for the new position.

Oh well, if it doesn't work out, I'll just keep working hard, taking on the new opportunities as they arise and read. A lot.

Though no decisions have been made, they tell me that the position may be up again in six months. I'm encouraged by that, definitely.

Either way, I appreciate that they thought of me. It's nice to be considered for new things. :)

About f-ing time

2007-01-23T12:37:00.001-05:00

A couple of months ago, I wrote this post about how fed up I was about the fact that Grey's Anatomy star Isaiah Washington was being held to a different standard than all the other Hollywood Bigots of 2006.

It took awhile, but it seems that Hollywood is catching on that a double-standard isn't cool.

Of course, it took Washington saying what he said a SECOND time in a more public forum (the first time of course being in the midst of that famous on-set fight), but at least something is being done.

That's All, What's Next?

Update: Reading the news this morning, it looks like Washington actually may be fired after all. I should totally go into psychic analysis for my next career opportunity.

Interesting Conversations

2007-01-22T17:08:00.000-05:00

So, last Friday I got a call from my boss at the consulting firm.

"Lindsay," he said, "I want to come by on Monday and talk to you about new opportunity."

My first thought, of course, went to the bad. Did my boss at the school system want to get rid of me?

Nope, as it turns out this is a good thing. An excellent thing. A thing that anyone would be out of their mind not to jump at. And of course, I'm not out of my mind, so I'm looking forward to the formal part of applying for the opportunity to manage 70 people.

Yes, I said 70. 7-0. Seven-dash-zero. Seventy.

Kinda cool, huh? I mean, it's not mine yet, but besides the whole firing thing, I think I can totally do it. It's basically keeping people happy and making sure that they're doing what they're supposed to be doing.

Plus, there's a pretty darn good chance that I'll actually get business cards. Considering that I'm now on my second job since college and haven't seen a single card, that's a good thing. For Chrissake's, my sister ran away and joined the freaking circus, and got business cards. I think I'm due.

So, stay tuned; prepared to (possibly) get pretend-fired by me (a girl needs the practice), and wish me lots of luck as I move towards this new phase in my career!!!

That's all. What's next?

It just started snowing

2007-01-21T15:00:00.000-05:00

And for some reason, there are tons of seagulls circling outside the house across the street.

Seriously, it's like The Birds out there. I feel like Tippi Hedren...

Football Mania 2007

2007-01-21T13:18:00.000-05:00

Now you guys know I don't watch much football to begin with, but with the Ravens out, I wasn't sure who to root for during the rest of the playoffs.

Fear Not, the NFL is here to help.

According to the answers I gave to the NFL, I need to jump on the Bandwagon and root for (drum roll please):

THE NEW ENGLAND PATRIOTS

Tom Brady is a bit of a hottie. I can totally do this. Plus, the Pats' next opponent is the Colts. You don't have to have lived in Baltimore very long to figure out who the enemy is in that situation.

Dial a Boy

2007-01-18T11:53:00.001-05:00

I’m a beautiful, intelligent, funny, girl with that auburn hair/golden eyes combination that reminds men of a certain FBI Agent that they crushed on in high school. I’m easy to get along with, a shoo-in with most mothers, and, in case you haven’t noticed, completely unlacking in the self-esteem department. My nice girl qualities mean that I have a steady supply of nice men in my life who, should I find myself conducting boyfriend-auditions once again, are more than willing to toss on a suit and accompany me to a plus-one affair with no strings attached. After all, we all know what men really think with, and these things usually have GREAT food.

All of which meant Jack-Diddly last night.

It all started Saturday when Kristen told me that the boyfriend was taking her to the O’Malley Inaugural Ball. Interesting, I thought. I figured that the tickets were way out of my price range and were probably all gone. Then yesterday, while at the inaugural in Annapolis, I realized that everyone there was talking about how “inexpensive” they were. Fifty to be exact. Open bar, tons of restaurants, and the chance to see Big Bad Voodoo Daddy live ????? Oh I was so in.

Since I was freezing my butt off in Annapolis, I couldn’t really do anything until I got home. Therefore, my evening pretty much went like this:

4:30 – Arrive home, plan to check email and hit
gym.
4:45 – Get ball ticket.
4:46 – Check email. Realize that all hell has
broken loose while out of office. Decide to forego gym.
5:00 – Get in shower.
5:15 – Get call from Kristen…they have an extra
ticket. Would I like? (Damn!)
5:16 – Thank Kristen. Explain that she is half
an hour too late. Learn she’s calling around. Place request for someone hot and
single. Realize that this is a Democratic Party event. Mentally amend request to
“single and mildly attractive.”
5:30 – Start hair and makeup.
5:45 – Get call from Kristen. She can’t find
anyone. Do I have a friend I can take?

Now, keeping in mind that I do have that steady supply of dial-a-boys, I figured it wasn’t going to be much of a problem. Who cares that we’re meeting in 45 minutes, I thought? Guys have to toss on a suit, make sure they don’t stink, and brush their hair. Free Food. OPEN BAR. This, I thought, was going to be a cakewalk.

Sure, Cakewalk. I sure am a funny girl!!! I started moving down the phone list. Here they are in random order:

Practically Engaged
Insane – only in phone so I can avoid calls
Friend, but way too interested in me to allow him to accompany me to ~~anything where I look hot~~. ANYTHING
Staunch Republican
DC
Engaged
Phone Busy
Married
See #8
Salisbury
Co-Worker
Forbidden
Um, NO
Kristen already called him.
Drunk
Exiled out of state for work
Texas
See #5
He’s still in this phone?
See #5
Too close of a relationship with #13
See #5
See #19
Awkward would never begin to describe what the evening would be like.
Suit was at drycleaners…if he wasn’t obviously interested in me, I’d swear he was "washing his hair.”
See # 7 (twice!)
See #16 – tried anyway to see if he happened to be passing through. No dice.
Other plans.
See #19. Ironically enough, I did run into him there.
See #16

Yes, folks, that was 0 for 31 (including another one who wasn’t in the phone, but whose number I ended up getting from one of the guys we dismissed earlier).

Then, I tried some, shall we say, “alternative” routes. This included calling my sister and asking her for the number of a guy who she had gone out with when she was living up here. He seemed nice, they didn’t really hit it off, and I figured he’d be able to pick up a few stories for his comedy routine. She refused the goods (“practically engaged” my ass) but began suggesting other people I could try. Note to self: when your sister actually describes a potential date as “I know he’s not Mr. Socially Adept, but he’s a body,” you know she doesn’t quite have your best interest at heart.

For the record, both Julia and Kristen suggested the “head-hunter” who turned the head of HR at my office into my personal dating service. I told them he was quite out of the question.

Then, knowing that we still needed to get rid of the ticket, she suggested that I move on to the girls she used to work with. After all, girls like dress-up events with lots of single successful guys (Judge Reinhold flashbacks be dammed) and a good looks at the ~~Mayor~~ Governor at hand. I agreed that that may have been an option, but we still faced a bit of a challenge: I had spent the entire night calling my boys, and this was Black-Tie event. We were meeting at 6:30. It was 6:15. You see where this is going…. I did call her one friend from work who thanked me and then (though she was way too nice to say it) clearly thought that I must’ve been high to propose this at such a late hour. Yeah, she was probably right.

Considering that I never really expected to have a date for the evening and anyone that I would have come up with would have been strictly platonic, I didn’t let it bother me. I got super-cute, headed to the pre-party, and promptly ran into the two guys from that October incident at Café Hon (one of whom was the guy I cancelled and reinstated the date with three times). Awkward? A little. But I was determined to enjoy myself nonetheless.

And enjoy myself I did!! Food: to die for. Big Bad Voodoo Daddy: hopping as usual. One lady asked me if they were a local band. I pointed her in the direction of “Swingers,” but I fear she may have misinterpreted that as “swingers club.” She moved away, scared. I kept dancing. Side bands: Fun dancy music. We ended up missing Kool and the Gang, but hands down the best band of the night… O’MALLEY’S FREAKING MARCH. They did three songs, and the entire crowd was going nuts. We grabbed our Guinnesses and sang along like we hadn’t heard the band in a year. Which, ok, we hadn’t.

It’s nice to be on the winning team. Even if you can’t find a last-minute date.

Geeks Wanted!!!

2007-01-12T16:57:00.000-05:00

Don't worry, I'm not knocking geeks. I ♥ Geeks...especially ones who can help me out with a little problem I'm facing.

My new gig wants me to create a character and do my new job as this particular character. For semi-obvious reasons for anyone who's ever really looked at me, the character that I've chosen is Dana Scully: Washed Up Reality TV Star.

The angle: The X-Files wasn't a fictionalized series, it was a reality show. Since it ended, Agent Scully had a choice between parlaying her fame as a reality TV star into new roles or taking a job doing what I'm doing with the new company. Since ghost-hunting seemed a less dangerous option than spending a week in a house with Vanilla Ice, Gary Coleman, and the rest of the bunch picked for the Surreal Life 27, she picks that.

The entire character needs hair, makeup, and a persona that matches closely with the actual Scully character. Hair's done (thank you, Jesus!), and the makeup and clothes seem pretty easy. I've already planned a few vital explanations (i.e. I'm not really a skeptic, it was a trick of the editors to create a character -- the standard reality TV show line), but there is a serious and singular problem that I'm having a hard time overcoming...

I have NEVER watched an episode of the X-Files all the way through.

I know, I know, welcome to 1995. I get it. However, while I'm a serious ghost-geek, I don't "do" aliens, flesh-eating bacteria, or massive bug colonies. Unfortunately, since every episode that everyone tried to make me watch featured one of those things, I never turned into a fan.
So this is where you come in. The Truth, The Knowledge...it's out there!! If anyone could possibly fill me in on the essential Scully-isms, could you please email me? I'll be spending all weekend studying my notes and watching old episodes, but you'd be helping a girl out if you could fill me in on the basics. Especially catchphrases and popular quotes. Those, seriously, would be the best.

Thanks!!

Office Politics 101

2007-01-11T10:47:00.001-05:00

Quick!!

Name the one thing that's ten-times worse than having a head-hunter call your office and leave a message for you with your boss.

Answer: Having a guy you met at a bar call your office and leave a message for you with your boss that sounds like it came from a headhunter.

Of course, since I'm playing this little pop-quiz, you can probably guess that that's exactly what happened this morning. About ten minutes ago, I got this lovely email from Ginny, the HR Director at my firm:

Hi Lindsay
I received a phone message for you from
Fred Name Redacted
Baltimore Chamber of Commerce
Phone Redacted
He asked that you call as soon as possible.

Instantly, I recognized Fred as the guy I met at the BJAC (Baltimore Junior Association of Commerce for those not playing along regularly -- someone probably wants to fill Fred in on that too, now that I think about it) meeting the other night. Nice guy, didn't make much of an impression, but, then again, I was having an active, interesting, conversation before he walked up and tried to insert himself with the usual new-person-small-talk. "What do you do, Where do you work," you know, those types of things.

Little did I know that the answers to those two questions would land me in my present situation. I mean, you guys know how much of an impression I can make when I'm not even trying. From what I can gather, he took the time to look up the phone number of my firm, and left a nice, succinct message with the HR Director that sounded, unfortunately, like he was looking to steal me away. Oh Goody...corporate suicide. Ironically enough, this isn't the first time that HR has gotten involved in my dating life, and while the "Chocolate Incident" and its associated nightmares is definitely a story for another time, I would have preferred the chocolate again. Yummy, and much easier to explain, by far!

After explaining myself to HR, I think they were relieved. I, of course, am mortified, and these guys don't tend to forget things. They're still asking if I'm still dating the guy (my neighbor) from our Calypso Cruise two years ago. Clearly, I'm not, but then again, I never was in the first place. Our Winter Formal is next weekend, so I'm looking forward to a night full of good-natured ribbing about Ginny being my "social director."

Silver Lining: THANK GOD the message wasn't something like "I'm looking for the hottie with the nice ass that I met out drinking on Tuesday." Because, seriously, while I work hard for my ass, I like my ass employed at a job I actually work harder at. Somehow, I'm thinking that implying that I
spend my Tuesdays bellied-up to a bar isn't going to go over too well when I've sick all week with strep-throat.

Like No One's Watching?

2007-01-09T08:54:00.001-05:00

There are things that my body is meant to do, and things that it, apparently, isn't. One of these, clearly, is dancing.

Now, I know I can ballroom dance (despite what my friend Jon tells me that that stupid boy from our ballroom dance class told him -- then again, that stupid boy needs to realize that "Nick" is spelled with a damn "C"), and I can display a passable effort when I'm out on the floor with a group of friends, but give me any sort of forum in which I have to actually dance for others, and well, we've got a problem.

Clearly, a career on The Block is not in my future, and, social-life be damned, a private show isn't either. My apologies if that was something you were hoping for.

Since I've been sick this week, I decided to forgo my usual Monday night Body Step class and take Body Jam instead. Since it's billed as "Just as many calories, not as much bouncing," I thought I'd be easier.

Easier my ass...It was like the world's most screwed-up production of A Chorus Line. Except in the titular song (get it?) the score is more like "Dance 3, Looks 10."

You know what? Scratch that, it was worse. Imagine this: They went right, I went left. They lifted their arms up in a graceful way, I flung mine around like I was swatting flies. They were shaking it like extras from "Coyote Ugly," I was **barely** managing the African Anteater Ritual from "Can't Buy Me Love."

Yes, I'm serious. Except, remember, Dempsey had some style.

I am DETERMINED not to let this beat me. I will persevere, I will get better, and, dammit, I will burn a ton of calories doing it. The instructor is an incredibly patient woman who knows that while I'm not the most talented person in the room, I've got heart and sense enough to stay out of the way (most of the time...I hope that girl's ankle is ok...).

In the meantime, if you want a good laugh, I'll see you Mondays at 6.

UPDATE: As my sister lovingly (ha!) pointed out, I was a dance minor at JMU. However, my concentration was mostly social dancing. Tango, swing, and foxtrots are my forté. Tap, not so much.

Random Thought

2007-01-09T08:03:00.001-05:00

Does anyone else think that the bridge to Sophie B. Hawkins' "Damn, I wish I was Your Lover" sounds like it came straight out of a song from Labyrinth? I've thought that since the song came out; it's on the radio now, and I still think that.

Thoughts? Comments?

Quiz Time

2007-01-09T05:18:00.000-05:00

I found this quiz on my friend's blog, and I just had to take it....

The Priss
Deliberate Brutal Love Dreamer (DBLDf)

Mature. Responsible. Aristocratic. Excuse me. The Priss.

Prisses are the smartest of all female types. You're highly perceptive, and confident in your judgements. You'd take brutal honesty over superficiality any time--your friends always know where they stand with you. You're completely unfake. Don't tell me that's not a word. You're also excellent at redirecting internal negative energy.

These facts indicate people are often intimidated by you. They also fall for you, hard. You have a distant, composed allure that many find irresistible. If only more of them lived up to your standards.

Your exact opposite:
The Playstation

Random Gentle Sex Master

You were probably the last among your friends to have sex. And the first to pretend that you're pregnant. LOL. Though you're inclined to use sex as weapon, at least it's not as one of mass destruction. You're choosier than most about your partners. A supportive relationship is what you're really after. Whether you know it or not, you need something steady & long-term. And soothing.

ALWAYS AVOID: The Playboy, The Loverboy

CONSIDER: The Manchild

Link: The 32-Type Dating Test by OkCupid - Free Online Dating.

I am so excited

2007-01-08T16:05:00.000-05:00

And nervous. Nervously excited if you will. I have a job interview on Thursday (no, I'm not leaving the school system or my current consulting firm) in a spirited town for a position that requires public speaking.

Now, if anyone reading this is thinking, "Um, Linds, did you read what you just wrote? I've heard you attempt to speak in public and well, we've gotta talk because you sure can't." Trust me, I know what I'm doing. Give me a script or an interesting topic that doesn't require me reaching into the deepest depths of my soul and a reason to walk backwards, and we'll get along just fine. I've actually done just that sort of thing before.

I don't want to jinx it, so I'm not answering any questions until Thursday night. Just think lovely spirited thoughts for whatever it may be please!!

Sick

2007-01-07T07:30:00.000-05:00

I hate being sick.

I hate the dizzy, swimmy feeling my head gets. I hate the fact that the cats don't want anything to do with me (until I have to throw up and then Minnie decides that THEN is the best possible time to crawl on top of me). I hate the idea of it being a beautiful day outside and I can't go play in it. I hate that I have to get a throat culture to rule out strep throat.

Which, of course I have.

I actually did my first throat culture in YEARS yesterday, and let me tell you, it wasn't pretty. Thanks to trauma from my childhood (where the Navy doctors held me down to jab a Q-tip in my throat), I haven't been able to do it since I was about six years old without screaming and crying. As far as I've been concerned, you can look, you can't touch, and you can give me the penicillin just in case. But yesterday, the PA seemed nice, and after I explained my irrational fears, I found myself agreeing to it. I sat in the chair, and this 5'2" woman towered over me with a Q-tip.

At which point, I began hyperventilating.

After five minutes, we decided to give up. She sat down on the stool, I hunched over, and she suggested that I call Sheppard Pratt.

Then, she said, "You know, we could try it like this," meaning the seated positions we were both in.

I agreed to try and she scootched the stool over. Now, she was below me and not towering over like Nurse Ratchet. I stuck my tongue out, she moved quick, and before I started fighting her, she had exactly what she needed. Which was brown and bloody, and not at all what a "healthy throat" is supposed to look like.

So now, for the first time in probably twenty years, I am being legitimately treated for strep throat. I know how to get a throat culture done in a way that works for me, and while I still hate being sick, I do have to say thank you to a very kind and patient woman named Leslie who helped me get through it!!!

Frank Capra, eat your heart out

2007-01-04T16:22:00.000-05:00

Have you ever looked at your life during a particular moment and realized, "by God, this is a scene from a movie!"? No, I'm not talking about those cheesy events where you attempt to recreate the final scene from Sleepless in Seattle or An Affair to Remember by taking your girlfriend to the Empire State Building for Valentines Day or any Princess Leia fantasies that your kinky boyfriend cooked up on a Saturday night. I'm talking about the natural moments that you don't recognize until just after they're over, when you find yourself standing on a street corner saying, "Didn't I see that somewhere before?"

As you can probably guess, I shared one this weekend.

This past Sunday I headed down to DC to pay my respects to President Ford (you guys know me and politics). Now, anyone who's been to the Capitol lately knows that since 9/11, there's no direct access to the building. You've got to go up a walkway on the right hand side (if you're facing The Mall), pass through security (seriously, why can't I ever get the hot Marine to feel me up?), and then slip into a side entrance. On extremely rare occasions you get to go around to the front door, and that's precisely what we did on Sunday.

I breezed through security (but someone still owes me a dinner!) and had made it to that part of the balcony where, when you look straight up, all you can see is the Dome. Kind of like this:

Now, let's face it, it's a pretty dome; it's an impressive dome; but, after almost an entire lifetime of visiting said dome and seeing it from The Mall, I'm sad to say that I've become used to it.
The woman behind me (roughly my mother's age which, if I hope to stay in the will, I will report as 35) however, had an entirely different point of view. She started gasping and shaking and looking up at the dome like a little girl.

"Oh, oh, OH," she exclaimed, prompting me to think that I had wandered into the diner scene in When Harry Met Sally.

I smiled at her, "It's beautiful isn't it. First time in DC?"

"Yes," she breathed. "We did it right, we did it right." She kept repeating herself while her friend -- clearly a DC suburbanite -- looked somewhat embarrassed.

"It's beautiful," I agreed, "But wait until you get inside."

While bummer-friend started relating the history of how this beautiful building was almost wiped out on 9/11, I wandered into the front steps. At first, I couldn't believe that you could reach a certain age (still 35 if my mother's reading this) without seeing Washington, DC. Then I realized that what I really was was jealous. I had grown up seeing The Dome, the White House, the Lincoln Memorial, the Cherry Blossoms, and all the other DC sights that are supposed to invoke patriotism and pride, and now they were just buildings and trees to me. This woman, this 35 year old woman was seeing them for the first time at an age where they could really mean something and when she would never forget the feelings they invoked.

She made me think, and as I left the Capitol and headed down the steps towards The Mall, I paused for a moment to look up at the dome once more with new eyes. And while it wasn't quite the eyes of the "lady on the Capitol Dome," or the eyes of the woman seeing it for the first time, it wasn't through "eyes on the ground either."*

* Just in case anyone doesn't have a clue what I meant by that, here's the speech from Jimmy Stewart's Jefferson Smith...

Just get up off the ground, that's all I ask. Get up there with that lady that's up on top of this Capitol dome, that lady that stands for liberty. Take a look at this country through her eyes if you really want to see something. And you won't just see scenery; you'll see the whole parade of what Man's carved out for himself, after centuries of fighting. Fighting for something better than just jungle law, fighting so's he can stand on his own two feet, free and decent, like he was created, no matter what his race, color, or creed. That's what you'd see. There's no place out there for graft, or greed, or lies, or compromise with human liberties. And, uh, if that's what the grownups have done with this world that was given to them, then we'd better get those boys' camps started fast and see what the kids can do. And it's not too late, because this country is bigger than the Taylors, or you, or me, or anything else. Great principles don't get lost once they come to light. They're right here; you just have to see them again!

LA People...take a look please

2007-01-02T17:15:00.000-05:00

Hi kids!

So, I'm not sure where everyone is these days, but this is the text of an email a friend from High School sent me earlier today. If you're in the LA Area, meet the criteria, and are interested in participating (and hello, you've SEEN the handymen on the TLC shows), please contact handymancasting@discovery.com directly.

If you don't live in LA (probably most of you), could you please forward the information on to any friends in the area that do? It's more fun to watch when it's people you know!!

Gracias!

Hi everyone. I work on a show called, "Take Home Handyman" that will air weekly on TLC -- starting in March. It's a fun, fast, 30-minute show where a famous carpenter meets you in Home Depot and goes to your home for 2 days to do some simple repairs (and teach you some do-it-yourself tricks).

I need your help!!! We are going to LA to film 5 episodes. One is an hour-long special with all of the girls from NBC's "The Office". (I know, I know -- I am SO excited to work with them! I'm hoping "Jim" will be there too!) I will be casting the other 4 episodes in the next month. If you know anyone in the Los Angeles area --
please send them this email. The information they need is below:

1. You must be over 18.
2. You must own your home/apt/condo or have permission from the landlord (they will be asked to sign a location release).
3. You must have someone (roommate/spouse/friend/etc) that can be there with you on-camera for both shooting days.
4. Home repairs we have done so far have included things like: replacing the carpet, replacing a kitchen floor, installing crown molding, replacing a front door, built-in shoe closet, replacing kitchen cabinets and counter tops, spackling walls, painting, etc.
5. We LOVE personality and anyone that is eager to learn home repair tricks!!!
All you have to do is email: Handymancasting@Discovery.com with a little bit about yourself, your friend/roommate/spouse that will be appearing with you, any and all repairs or ideas you have for your house, why you would be a great candidate for the show and pictures of you, your friend and your possible repairs. I will be calling people back and will be coming out to LA to meet with everyone, do an on-camera interview and film a walk-thru for TLC (within the next month). Our tentative dates for filming the episodes will be the end of February or possibly not until April (when filming for "The Office" goes on hiatus).

Gerald Ford Dana Carvey SNL Tom Brokaw

2006-12-30T17:14:00.001-05:00


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?

2006-12-30T15:32:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-30T12:48:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-23T06:49:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-19T13:03:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-12-17T12:51:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-17T12:31:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-17T08:28:00.000-05:00

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!!

2006-12-16T13:36:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-12-14T18:02:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-13T07:36:00.000-05:00

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:

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

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.

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

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.

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

See what I mean?

Stupid reasons we dump men

2006-12-12T11:42:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-08T15:32:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-08T07:11:00.000-05:00

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

2006-12-07T17:53:00.000-05:00

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...

2006-12-04T18:16:00.000-05:00

Alas, I can't. :(

Picture This

2006-12-04T16:50:00.000-05:00

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.