Off to Northern Ireland till the New Year, for my friend's wedding and all other manner of irresponsibility. I've been training my stomach to handle a high ratio of Guinness to food. Guinness actually being liquid bread, I think I stand a fighting chance. Will write with updates if/when possible.
Happy five-or-six-hours-earlier-than-you New Year, everybody!
25 December 2005
19 December 2005
Don't fear the reaper
I imagine that a plague has hit the state of Ohio, rendering all civilization destroyed. That's really the only reason I can see for why no one has been blogging or commenting or breathing in my direction lately. I can't even get spammers to hit my page.
For those who are alive, I settled the great gift debate earlier this week. The end result was a birthday gift of tickets to the Trans-Siberian Orchestra (yeah, I didn't think it was my sort of thing, either, but it turned out to be pretty enjoyable!) and a custom designed t-shirt for Christmas.
I've been receiving several (intentional) hints as to what to expect as my Christmas gift. I was shown the corner of a white paper bag, presumably from the store at which it was purchased. He produced bright pink tissue paper, which I'm told was pushed on him by the sales girl at this "girly type" store. And his good friend (a girl) claims that it's "the best gift ever" and that she, in fact, wants my gift if I don't.
Having not been to a mall in months, I am completely lost. Ideas?
For those who are alive, I settled the great gift debate earlier this week. The end result was a birthday gift of tickets to the Trans-Siberian Orchestra (yeah, I didn't think it was my sort of thing, either, but it turned out to be pretty enjoyable!) and a custom designed t-shirt for Christmas.
I've been receiving several (intentional) hints as to what to expect as my Christmas gift. I was shown the corner of a white paper bag, presumably from the store at which it was purchased. He produced bright pink tissue paper, which I'm told was pushed on him by the sales girl at this "girly type" store. And his good friend (a girl) claims that it's "the best gift ever" and that she, in fact, wants my gift if I don't.
Having not been to a mall in months, I am completely lost. Ideas?
07 December 2005
I see trees of green, red roses too...
So far my trip to D.C. has produced many interesting life milestones. I've been verbally beaten into submission, walked 1.5 miles in the snow, and almost was lost in a bad part of the city (an area into which two little yuppie girls should not venture alone).
Yesterday, though, I was hit on by a homeless man. He was a nice-looking, younger man, relatively clean-shaven and personable, picking up a half-gallon of milk and a sandwich at the Dupont Circle CVS. He waved feverishly at me from down the drink aisle, grinning as I turned to look behind me at whoever the object of his attention might be. The aisle, of course, was empty. I smiled, to which he bowed in return, saying, "Ah, thank you! A smile is worth a thousand words."
As we left the store, we saw him sitting outside among three or four knapsacks and trash bags, enjoying his milk and sandwich. He complimented me on my hat (it IS a cute hat), and we bid him a good evening as we continued on to our hotel.
Later on, I reflected upon what undoubtedly was my most pleasant ever experience with a homeless person. He didn't ask me for money, he didn't tell me I should've divorced Bill Clinton, and he didn't spit on my shoes. In fact, I would've liked to talk with him, to hear some of his story. And that brief encounter led me to formulate my campaign strategy for public office: Zoloft for the homeless.
"...and I think to myself, 'What a wonderful world.'"
Yesterday, though, I was hit on by a homeless man. He was a nice-looking, younger man, relatively clean-shaven and personable, picking up a half-gallon of milk and a sandwich at the Dupont Circle CVS. He waved feverishly at me from down the drink aisle, grinning as I turned to look behind me at whoever the object of his attention might be. The aisle, of course, was empty. I smiled, to which he bowed in return, saying, "Ah, thank you! A smile is worth a thousand words."
As we left the store, we saw him sitting outside among three or four knapsacks and trash bags, enjoying his milk and sandwich. He complimented me on my hat (it IS a cute hat), and we bid him a good evening as we continued on to our hotel.
Later on, I reflected upon what undoubtedly was my most pleasant ever experience with a homeless person. He didn't ask me for money, he didn't tell me I should've divorced Bill Clinton, and he didn't spit on my shoes. In fact, I would've liked to talk with him, to hear some of his story. And that brief encounter led me to formulate my campaign strategy for public office: Zoloft for the homeless.
"...and I think to myself, 'What a wonderful world.'"
06 December 2005
Hot for teacher
Well it's snowing in D.C., and I'm about to leave for my second day of GWU Residency Week. The project we're presenting is the equivalent of a group masters thesis, and our evaluating professor is absolutely horrifying. He's about 350 pounds, barely speaks English, and I think he eats babies. Yesterday after my presentation, I had people...and by "people", I mean 20 of the 24 students in the class...come up to me and shake my hand for maintaining my composure through his rude and completely unintelligable questioning. Hopefully we all come out of this alive...and passing!
22 November 2005
Santa baby
Starting a new relationship around the holidays is a high-pressure situation. Adequately gauging your new flame's approach to give-giving takes considerable time and thought, and normally is enough to send this girl into a pre-holiday tailspin.
I usually try not to spend too much, because that makes a girl seem too invested and overbearing - and I am so not that girl. Conversely, an inexpensive gift rarely seems thoughtful enough to be worth the trouble. Plus I love giving gifts now that I'm financially independent, it's one of the best ways I can think of to spend my earnings.
If this were 6 months from now, I would love to give him tickets to a Mavs game, since he used to both play and coach basketball. The good seats get pretty pricey, but that's the beauty of a gift of sports tickets: it's potentially as much a gift to him as it is to me! Far be it from me, though, to dictate how a gift is used, so I would of course have to be prepared for him to take someone else. It's too early in the game for such a financial gamble.
To make matters worse, this year, I may be stuck with the double-whammy -- the pre-Christmas birthday. I'm familiar with the pre-holiday birthday lament, those poor souls born around Easter or Father's Day or what have you, and I would never, ever commit the dual-purpose gift offense. Under normal circumstances I would need to come up with not one, but two, gifts to cover this one.
It would be a SWEET excuse for floor seats versus the Lakers, though.
Of course there's the very real possibility that he doesn't want to exchange gifts at all, and I'm fine with that -- as are my bank account and my sanity. In fact, I almost prefer it. I think I'll just go with that and hope for the best! And come up with another excuse to watch basketball.
I usually try not to spend too much, because that makes a girl seem too invested and overbearing - and I am so not that girl. Conversely, an inexpensive gift rarely seems thoughtful enough to be worth the trouble. Plus I love giving gifts now that I'm financially independent, it's one of the best ways I can think of to spend my earnings.
If this were 6 months from now, I would love to give him tickets to a Mavs game, since he used to both play and coach basketball. The good seats get pretty pricey, but that's the beauty of a gift of sports tickets: it's potentially as much a gift to him as it is to me! Far be it from me, though, to dictate how a gift is used, so I would of course have to be prepared for him to take someone else. It's too early in the game for such a financial gamble.
To make matters worse, this year, I may be stuck with the double-whammy -- the pre-Christmas birthday. I'm familiar with the pre-holiday birthday lament, those poor souls born around Easter or Father's Day or what have you, and I would never, ever commit the dual-purpose gift offense. Under normal circumstances I would need to come up with not one, but two, gifts to cover this one.
It would be a SWEET excuse for floor seats versus the Lakers, though.
Of course there's the very real possibility that he doesn't want to exchange gifts at all, and I'm fine with that -- as are my bank account and my sanity. In fact, I almost prefer it. I think I'll just go with that and hope for the best! And come up with another excuse to watch basketball.
21 November 2005
Momma said knock you out
On Sunday morning we were watching the 1971 Ali/Blin heavyweight fight, and the announcer mentioned that they were broadasting from "the most famous sports venue in the world." The building appeared still to be in one piece, so I quickly discerned that it was not the Colliseum. Madison Square Garden? Must be. Then the byline came on at the bottom of the screen: Zurich, Switzerland. The three of us were puzzled.
A completely whacked out high school English teacher of mine once asserted that there's nothing in life that you can't look up, including your name. Always one for shortcuts, I took this theory and ran with it, earning esteem among my friends as the most efficient Internet searcher ever. With my mad Google skills, I ran a search that eventually turned up the name of this supposedly world-renowned venue.
Hallenstadion Arena. Anybody? (Bueller?)
A completely whacked out high school English teacher of mine once asserted that there's nothing in life that you can't look up, including your name. Always one for shortcuts, I took this theory and ran with it, earning esteem among my friends as the most efficient Internet searcher ever. With my mad Google skills, I ran a search that eventually turned up the name of this supposedly world-renowned venue.
Hallenstadion Arena. Anybody? (Bueller?)
18 November 2005
Under pressure
So I haven't been posting a lot, mostly because I'm buried in school work. Oh, the life. Here's some free-form thinking for your reading enjoyment.
The other day we had my coworker's going away luncheon. Now the guy was only working here for a whopping 9 months before he quit, so hardly anyone in our fifty-person group really knew him. However, a grand total of 25 people showed up for lunch. He and his napoleonic complex were, of course, thrilled. Most openly admitted that they were just there for the food.
I love when professors really go above and beyond to give their students guidance. Last week my group was told that our final paper was topically correct, but "crude". When we inquired how we might remedy this grave error, we were told, "Make it less crude." Aren't language barriers fun? By the grace of God we will all graduate in three weeks.
Lisa got eliminated from America's Next Top Model on Wednesday, and much of the free world rejoiced. Me? I can't help but love her, the whole peeing-in-a-diaper-in-front-of-20-some-odd-people thing aside. Her portfolio is fantastic, and whoever said models were 100% classy anyway? Kate? Naomi? Janice? I'm talking to you.
Well since I'm in the office on my off-Friday, I may as well start doing some "real, actual work." Back in a few days when I'm a little more coherent!
The other day we had my coworker's going away luncheon. Now the guy was only working here for a whopping 9 months before he quit, so hardly anyone in our fifty-person group really knew him. However, a grand total of 25 people showed up for lunch. He and his napoleonic complex were, of course, thrilled. Most openly admitted that they were just there for the food.
I love when professors really go above and beyond to give their students guidance. Last week my group was told that our final paper was topically correct, but "crude". When we inquired how we might remedy this grave error, we were told, "Make it less crude." Aren't language barriers fun? By the grace of God we will all graduate in three weeks.
Lisa got eliminated from America's Next Top Model on Wednesday, and much of the free world rejoiced. Me? I can't help but love her, the whole peeing-in-a-diaper-in-front-of-20-some-odd-people thing aside. Her portfolio is fantastic, and whoever said models were 100% classy anyway? Kate? Naomi? Janice? I'm talking to you.
Well since I'm in the office on my off-Friday, I may as well start doing some "real, actual work." Back in a few days when I'm a little more coherent!
10 November 2005
Love is a battlefield
On Tuesday I received an e-mail from an ex-boyfriend, asking for money for a concert ticket from back in September -- to be exact, the weekend before we broke up. Now in discussing this incident, we'll disregard the fact that this guy took me out on a total of 2 dates in 1.5 years. We used to split the meals, I paid for one, he'd get the next, which is perfectly agreeable to me in most cases, except every once in a while you've got to treat a girl.
We'll also disregard that last year he dropped a couple thou on new wheels and tires for his second car, or that he called me last weekend to ask what brand of $200 jeans he'd contemplated buying two months prior.
Perhaps I should refrain from noting that, at said concert, he completely (and noteably, as others commented on this at length) ignored me in favor of speaking with some client of his about whom he'd talked incessently over dinner early in the week: "T, this girl is just so awesome. Really, she's the kind of girl you see and you think, wow, that girl must be a model. But she also speaks fluent Korean, and is a black-belt in Tae-Kwan-Do." Fan-effing-tastic, isn't she? I'd do her.
And yeah...we'll also not mention the fact that he broke up with me the very weekend that I drove out to Dallas to help him install $3000 hardwood flooring in his brand new condo.
But it probably IS worth noting that he saw me and the new guy I'm dating canoodling in a local, late-night taco establishment last weekend. Coincidence? Perhaps...but at least I'm on to bigger and better things.
Congratulations, Ben, you are officially a "Dallas guy."
...
And yes, I'm aware that putting up with the above-mentioned and other of his idiotic "romancing" not once (for 1.5 years when I first moved here), but twice (for another month this summer), makes me an absolute moron. Consider that lesson painfully learned.
We'll also disregard that last year he dropped a couple thou on new wheels and tires for his second car, or that he called me last weekend to ask what brand of $200 jeans he'd contemplated buying two months prior.
Perhaps I should refrain from noting that, at said concert, he completely (and noteably, as others commented on this at length) ignored me in favor of speaking with some client of his about whom he'd talked incessently over dinner early in the week: "T, this girl is just so awesome. Really, she's the kind of girl you see and you think, wow, that girl must be a model. But she also speaks fluent Korean, and is a black-belt in Tae-Kwan-Do." Fan-effing-tastic, isn't she? I'd do her.
And yeah...we'll also not mention the fact that he broke up with me the very weekend that I drove out to Dallas to help him install $3000 hardwood flooring in his brand new condo.
But it probably IS worth noting that he saw me and the new guy I'm dating canoodling in a local, late-night taco establishment last weekend. Coincidence? Perhaps...but at least I'm on to bigger and better things.
Congratulations, Ben, you are officially a "Dallas guy."
...
And yes, I'm aware that putting up with the above-mentioned and other of his idiotic "romancing" not once (for 1.5 years when I first moved here), but twice (for another month this summer), makes me an absolute moron. Consider that lesson painfully learned.
08 November 2005
She blinded me with science
One of my biggest office pet-peeves is peoples' inane tendency to drag their fingers along the cube walls as they walk by. It really hearkens back the days of 3rd grade, and those kids who used to absent-mindedly touch everything around them as they wandered through the halls.
You know that kid, the one with the thick eye-glasses and nasally voice. He'd pick his nose and then smear his finger along the wall, not even aware that such behavior would inevitably lose him a seat at the cool kids' lunch table.
I guess it can be inferred that 30-something years of being eschewed by most everyone makes the computer an attractive companion, because everyone here is that kid. Or is it the other way around: a scientfically curious mind precludes any consideration for the subtelties of human interaction? Nature versus nurture, I guess...at any rate, stop touching my shit!
You know that kid, the one with the thick eye-glasses and nasally voice. He'd pick his nose and then smear his finger along the wall, not even aware that such behavior would inevitably lose him a seat at the cool kids' lunch table.
I guess it can be inferred that 30-something years of being eschewed by most everyone makes the computer an attractive companion, because everyone here is that kid. Or is it the other way around: a scientfically curious mind precludes any consideration for the subtelties of human interaction? Nature versus nurture, I guess...at any rate, stop touching my shit!
31 October 2005
Watch out boys, she'll chew you up
I met a guy at the bar this weekend who is 6'9". Six-nine? That's like, a whole foot taller than I am, and I'm considered a tall girl. I wish I remembered more about him, but the manner in which I had to tilt my head ALL the way back to talk to him started to make me kind of dizzy.
My friend noticed us exchanging numbers and shouted out, "Wow, y'all's kids would be freakishly tall!" And you know, mentioning kids is always a sure-fire way to get a guy to call back. I'm guessing the 12-inch height differential formed a pretty decent sound barrier, because we're having dinner sometime this week.
The existence of such guys out there really assuages my fear of winding up as some middle-aged, crazy cat lady. Simply put, I refuse to date any men who are shorter than myself. Now before you get all "equal rights for dwarves" on me, let me assure you that I've given it a fair shot. Twice. Through this brief, empirical study I can tell you that it really messes with a girl's self-esteem to be with a guy so fragile that you might break him at any time.
Now the guys I dated -- the shorties -- seemed to enjoy dating a girl taller than them. In fact, each used to encourage me to wear high heels at all times, and I'm afraid that delves a little further into the "mommy issues" area of things than I'm comfortable with.
Guys, what do you think: "Two legs bad, two very looooong legs good"?
My friend noticed us exchanging numbers and shouted out, "Wow, y'all's kids would be freakishly tall!" And you know, mentioning kids is always a sure-fire way to get a guy to call back. I'm guessing the 12-inch height differential formed a pretty decent sound barrier, because we're having dinner sometime this week.
The existence of such guys out there really assuages my fear of winding up as some middle-aged, crazy cat lady. Simply put, I refuse to date any men who are shorter than myself. Now before you get all "equal rights for dwarves" on me, let me assure you that I've given it a fair shot. Twice. Through this brief, empirical study I can tell you that it really messes with a girl's self-esteem to be with a guy so fragile that you might break him at any time.
Now the guys I dated -- the shorties -- seemed to enjoy dating a girl taller than them. In fact, each used to encourage me to wear high heels at all times, and I'm afraid that delves a little further into the "mommy issues" area of things than I'm comfortable with.
Guys, what do you think: "Two legs bad, two very looooong legs good"?
30 October 2005
Yes, I'm gonna be a star
I'm free!!! My hellbeast Tribute is off to greener pastures, and I haven't stopped smiling since my purchase of the below. New house, new car -- aaaaaand, I'm spent. Anyone know any good Ramen recipes?
27 October 2005
Beep-beep, yeah
Okay, remember a few months ago when I mentioned that my Tribute was the spawn of Satan?
So on Monday, I was driving home from work when I noticed smoke coming out from under the hood of my car. I said to myself, "Self, this can't possibly be a good thing." Fortunately I was in close proximity to the dealership where I used to take it for warranty work, so I pulled into the drive and had someone look at it.
As I suspected, my radiator was leaking, and in such a manner that it needed to be replaced ASAP. I remembered that the radiator had to be replaced from an accident I was in back in August of 2004; a look at my service history at the dealer told us that the radiator was replaced AGAIN in November of 2004. And now, here it is, October 2005, and I've just had installed my 3rd radiator in a 2002 vehicle.
I am so buying a new car.
So on Monday, I was driving home from work when I noticed smoke coming out from under the hood of my car. I said to myself, "Self, this can't possibly be a good thing." Fortunately I was in close proximity to the dealership where I used to take it for warranty work, so I pulled into the drive and had someone look at it.
As I suspected, my radiator was leaking, and in such a manner that it needed to be replaced ASAP. I remembered that the radiator had to be replaced from an accident I was in back in August of 2004; a look at my service history at the dealer told us that the radiator was replaced AGAIN in November of 2004. And now, here it is, October 2005, and I've just had installed my 3rd radiator in a 2002 vehicle.
I am so buying a new car.
24 October 2005
Just push play
If you're living under a rock and somehow haven't seen "The Office" yet, STOP EVERYTHING and go set up your VCR/TiVo/TiFaux right now.
Yes, I know it's never going to be the same as the British version, but it's hilarious in its own right. I sort of admire the fact that it doesn't try to be a carbon-copy of its ancestor and has branched out with its own unique story lines and character sketches. Even the snobbiest of BBCA advocates will admit, this show is great TV.
This is "Office Space" on steriods. It is also 100% taken from my real life. I work with an "Angela", the Bible-beater whose favorite color is probably grey. Where I come from, though, our "Angela" is male, married but completely asexual, and irritatingly good at everything he does. Maybe that's what happens when you've got God on second-string?
We've got a "Ryan, the temp". Well, had. I actually dated him for about 1.5 years, till he moved onward and upward, surpassing the aspirations of mere mortals such as ourselves. I'm sure he looks back on his days here thinking, wow...what a complete waste of my time.
What we have that "The Office" doesn't:
- an otherwise brilliant guy whose daily ritual includes loudly clipping his fingernails at 8am,
- a weasely buyer who thinks the best points are substantiated by shouting, and
- an over-sexed, wholly unattractive admin who unabashedly flirts with (married) supervision.
We also have an assortment of geeks, she-males, and a number of other people who, together, form the benchmark of social ineptitude.
I think my favorite office story has to be the one about "Alvin," from around my first month or two here. My lead's wife had been hospitalized suddenly because she was experiencing internal bleeding. Some days later, our lead came back to work, and our cube, which I shared with him and another teammate, was inundated with folks asking about her progress. Alvin stopped in, and was noticably confused as my lead described what was really wrong with his wife - some kind of ruptured organ, as I recall. A puzzled expression on his face, Alvin said, "Oh, see, when you said internal bleeding, I was thinking something else." My lead said, "Well, we were very fortunate that it was able to be caught early enough." Alvin continued: "Yeah, I mean, when you said internal bleeding, I thought you meant bleeding...from the vagina."
I can't make this stuff up, people.
Yes, I know it's never going to be the same as the British version, but it's hilarious in its own right. I sort of admire the fact that it doesn't try to be a carbon-copy of its ancestor and has branched out with its own unique story lines and character sketches. Even the snobbiest of BBCA advocates will admit, this show is great TV.
This is "Office Space" on steriods. It is also 100% taken from my real life. I work with an "Angela", the Bible-beater whose favorite color is probably grey. Where I come from, though, our "Angela" is male, married but completely asexual, and irritatingly good at everything he does. Maybe that's what happens when you've got God on second-string?
We've got a "Ryan, the temp". Well, had. I actually dated him for about 1.5 years, till he moved onward and upward, surpassing the aspirations of mere mortals such as ourselves. I'm sure he looks back on his days here thinking, wow...what a complete waste of my time.
What we have that "The Office" doesn't:
- an otherwise brilliant guy whose daily ritual includes loudly clipping his fingernails at 8am,
- a weasely buyer who thinks the best points are substantiated by shouting, and
- an over-sexed, wholly unattractive admin who unabashedly flirts with (married) supervision.
We also have an assortment of geeks, she-males, and a number of other people who, together, form the benchmark of social ineptitude.
I think my favorite office story has to be the one about "Alvin," from around my first month or two here. My lead's wife had been hospitalized suddenly because she was experiencing internal bleeding. Some days later, our lead came back to work, and our cube, which I shared with him and another teammate, was inundated with folks asking about her progress. Alvin stopped in, and was noticably confused as my lead described what was really wrong with his wife - some kind of ruptured organ, as I recall. A puzzled expression on his face, Alvin said, "Oh, see, when you said internal bleeding, I was thinking something else." My lead said, "Well, we were very fortunate that it was able to be caught early enough." Alvin continued: "Yeah, I mean, when you said internal bleeding, I thought you meant bleeding...from the vagina."
I can't make this stuff up, people.
03 October 2005
I'm gonna getcha, I'll getcha
On Friday at the mall I was nearly attacked. Not in any real, physically-threatening way, but hunted and stalked like prey by two women at one of those "Here, try this expensive hand cream" booths. I wonder what it is about those booth attendents that a) English is almost never their first (or second) language, and b) they have no qualms about haranguing you to the point where you run screaming toward the mall exit.
Maybe it's because I've never been the "sales" type. Making people buy things they don't need just doesn't do it for me. That said, I'll admit that it was always fun trying to sell clearance socks to everyone that approached the register at J.Crew. (And I ask you, who can't use woolen hiking socks in the summer climes of Destin, FL?) But those people were approaching me, their friendly, knowledgable cashier, and it was really more like a game than anything.
These hand-cream women, though, are ruthless! The first time I walked by, creamer #1 approached me with a pleading, "Ma'am? Ma'am?" that I cut short by fishing my phone out of the bag and pretending to answer. Like a vampire to garlic, she shrunk away; it was like a mall version of King's Quest (but the later, well-animated ones).
On my way back, 5 minutes later, I pulled the phone out again, holding it to my ear. I breathed a sigh of relief, noticing that creamer #1 was already applying peach-scented lotion to the hands of a poor soul who visibly did not want to be bothered. Creamer #2 was lurking around the corner, but I confidently continued my walk. "Ma'am? MA'AM? she yelled out, walking right up into my face.
What nerve this woman had, addressing me while I was pretending to ignore her!! I held up a cautionary, poorly hydrated hand and continued to walk.
In what other industry, if not the mall-kiosk business, is it suitable for people to walk up to you and harass you to buy their products? Even prostitutes and strippers aren't that pushy.
Maybe it's because I've never been the "sales" type. Making people buy things they don't need just doesn't do it for me. That said, I'll admit that it was always fun trying to sell clearance socks to everyone that approached the register at J.Crew. (And I ask you, who can't use woolen hiking socks in the summer climes of Destin, FL?) But those people were approaching me, their friendly, knowledgable cashier, and it was really more like a game than anything.
These hand-cream women, though, are ruthless! The first time I walked by, creamer #1 approached me with a pleading, "Ma'am? Ma'am?" that I cut short by fishing my phone out of the bag and pretending to answer. Like a vampire to garlic, she shrunk away; it was like a mall version of King's Quest (but the later, well-animated ones).
On my way back, 5 minutes later, I pulled the phone out again, holding it to my ear. I breathed a sigh of relief, noticing that creamer #1 was already applying peach-scented lotion to the hands of a poor soul who visibly did not want to be bothered. Creamer #2 was lurking around the corner, but I confidently continued my walk. "Ma'am? MA'AM? she yelled out, walking right up into my face.
What nerve this woman had, addressing me while I was pretending to ignore her!! I held up a cautionary, poorly hydrated hand and continued to walk.
In what other industry, if not the mall-kiosk business, is it suitable for people to walk up to you and harass you to buy their products? Even prostitutes and strippers aren't that pushy.
26 September 2005
Some like it hot
Props to Tom for some fantastic ACL Music Festival tips. We had an amazing time this weekend, it was just what the doctor ordered. Well, figuratively speaking, anyway -- I'm pretty sure the doctor didn't order triple-digit weather and 20mph winds that turned Zilker Park into a giant dust-bowl.
Friday -- Keane was absolutely fantastic and a great way to start things off. Caught the end of Blues Traveler on the way to the Black Crowes, worming our way through the crowd in oppressive 90-degree evening temperatures. After "She Talks to Angels" we made our way behind the sound booth to listen in not so dense a crowd. This simple act made the show 8 times more enjoyable, as it did not involve being surrounded by the armpit smells of 8 or 9 prepubescent boys.
Saturday -- Caught the tail end of Aqualung while walking in, then a bit of Buddy Guy. Death Cab for Cutie was good, but standing in line for shaved ice proved far better, overall. That particular venture toward hydration was prompted by the collapse of two young girls with heat stroke directly to our right. Dude, it's 101 degrees -- try eating or drinking something. Without purging.
Listened to the Walkmen while awaiting Jet; during a lull, a Huey flew over the venue and their lead singer shouted, "Look! It's Oasis!" Laughter ensued. Jet was amazing, definitely a highlight, although I'd always assumed they were British? Hmm. While waiting for Oasis, I realized that I was sweating mud. So much for Hurricane Rita.
Oasis took the stage, and zzzzzzzzz...we left after two songs. Liam really needs to, I don't know, enunciate. I'm told that after we left, he made Noel re-start a song because, "Man, you're doing it all wrong." As fun as it would've been to watch those two fight first-hand, I just couldn't take them anyzzzzzzzz....
Sunday -- After rocking 6th Street all night, we made our way back to the park. Dejected when we realized Rachael Yamagata had just finished, we made our way to Rilo Kiley's stage for some fun folksy weirdness. It was 108 degrees when Jason Mraz took the mike, and at risk of sounding like a rabid fangirl, I'll stick my neck out and say that his was the most exciting performance I saw all weekend. That guy is crazy talented, and he scored major points for his duet with Rachael Yamagata.
By the time the sun set, the dust clouds were obscuring both vision and breathing. We made the executive decision not to stick around for Coldplay and risk permanent damage to our lungs. If you think I'm exaggerating the level of dust out there, e-mail me and I will explain, in graphic detail, the horrible places where I found dirt last night in the shower.
Health issues aside, it was a great weekend -- many thanks to the fine people of Austin for organizing another stellar show!
Friday -- Keane was absolutely fantastic and a great way to start things off. Caught the end of Blues Traveler on the way to the Black Crowes, worming our way through the crowd in oppressive 90-degree evening temperatures. After "She Talks to Angels" we made our way behind the sound booth to listen in not so dense a crowd. This simple act made the show 8 times more enjoyable, as it did not involve being surrounded by the armpit smells of 8 or 9 prepubescent boys.
Saturday -- Caught the tail end of Aqualung while walking in, then a bit of Buddy Guy. Death Cab for Cutie was good, but standing in line for shaved ice proved far better, overall. That particular venture toward hydration was prompted by the collapse of two young girls with heat stroke directly to our right. Dude, it's 101 degrees -- try eating or drinking something. Without purging.
Listened to the Walkmen while awaiting Jet; during a lull, a Huey flew over the venue and their lead singer shouted, "Look! It's Oasis!" Laughter ensued. Jet was amazing, definitely a highlight, although I'd always assumed they were British? Hmm. While waiting for Oasis, I realized that I was sweating mud. So much for Hurricane Rita.
Oasis took the stage, and zzzzzzzzz...we left after two songs. Liam really needs to, I don't know, enunciate. I'm told that after we left, he made Noel re-start a song because, "Man, you're doing it all wrong." As fun as it would've been to watch those two fight first-hand, I just couldn't take them anyzzzzzzzz....
Sunday -- After rocking 6th Street all night, we made our way back to the park. Dejected when we realized Rachael Yamagata had just finished, we made our way to Rilo Kiley's stage for some fun folksy weirdness. It was 108 degrees when Jason Mraz took the mike, and at risk of sounding like a rabid fangirl, I'll stick my neck out and say that his was the most exciting performance I saw all weekend. That guy is crazy talented, and he scored major points for his duet with Rachael Yamagata.
By the time the sun set, the dust clouds were obscuring both vision and breathing. We made the executive decision not to stick around for Coldplay and risk permanent damage to our lungs. If you think I'm exaggerating the level of dust out there, e-mail me and I will explain, in graphic detail, the horrible places where I found dirt last night in the shower.
Health issues aside, it was a great weekend -- many thanks to the fine people of Austin for organizing another stellar show!
20 September 2005
You make the rockin' world go round
My friend is on this insane "Seven Day Slim-Down Diet" that involves eating nothing but egg whites, baby rice, chicken breasts, and spinach, every day for seven days. 6 egg whites in the morning, with a cup of baby rice? Get out of here, that's not breakfast. What it IS, though, is an antidote to a healthy appetite. I'd sooner eat my hand than that tripe. She's done it before, and it really does work, but...why?
I'm going to start a radical new diet plan that will take the world by storm -- it's called the "Don't be a Fat-Ass Diet". Basically it involves not eating stuff that's bad for you, like Oreos and ice cream and beer, and getting up off the couch every once in a while, for a reason other than to get more Oreos, ice cream, and beer.
Call me crazy, but I think it just might work.
I'm going to start a radical new diet plan that will take the world by storm -- it's called the "Don't be a Fat-Ass Diet". Basically it involves not eating stuff that's bad for you, like Oreos and ice cream and beer, and getting up off the couch every once in a while, for a reason other than to get more Oreos, ice cream, and beer.
Call me crazy, but I think it just might work.
15 September 2005
Rocket Man
There's such a random assortment of people in the airport early on a Thursday morning. About 50% of these actually work at the airport. Thirty percent are businessfolks, in their snazzy suits and ties, peering over their noses at my shorts and sneakers - yes, Mr. Metrosexual, I realize I'm in fashion-forward Dallas right now, but in about 5 hours I'll be in New Orleans, and let's face it, there's not really anyone to impress there right now. Then you've got the early-bird contingent (5%), folks who are awake at this hour by choice, and by hormone therapy. And the remaining 15% are kids like me, who stared at the Priceline screen last Friday saying, "Well, how bad can it be?"
"Okay, ma'am, we've got you down for a 4:30 wake-up call."
"Okay, ma'am, we've got you down for a 4:30 wake-up call."
07 September 2005
Nowhere man
For all who were wondering -- and thank you, by the way -- my grandparents' house was largely spared by the hurricane. And by "spared" I mean that it's still standing, which is certainly more than most could ask right now.
My mom, dad, and grandpa traveled out to Slidell 5 times from Pensacola this weekend to survey the damages and begin repairs. They rented some equipment and generators and started to work tearing out carpets and ripping up drywall in all 12 of the downstairs rooms. The surge of the storm brought in 3 feet of water, which eventually settled at 1 foot, according to the water marks and mold on the furniture and walls. My mom opened the drawer under the oven, only to find that giant clumps of seaweed -- Mapquest Slidell, LA, and you'll understand how bizarre that really is.
All the furniture from the first floor will have to be replaced, the drywall redone from floor to ceiling. But hearing about this, the worst part was the slow and painful mental inventory I began to take of all the family history that was certainly lost. Sketches and letters from my great grandfather the vaudevillian, family Bibles, pictures of my mom and her brothers growing up in New Jersey and Puerto Rico, wedding photos, year books. All had floated off the bottom shelves of bookcases and were now strewn around in bathrooms and kitchens.
And yet, they were lucky. I have friends whose families' homes were nothing but foundations and shingles when they returned. Their possessions are probably being pumped into Lake Ponchartrain as we speak.
I hope that we, as a nation, can learn from this disaster; that we can stop pointing fingers and looking for scapegoats (I'm talking to you, Kanye), and support one another.
I've always considered New Orleans my second home. It's the one constant in my life, the city I could count on -- and it's devastating to see it now, a shell of is former self. But New Orleanians are nothing if not resiliant, full of life and hope and love. They will overcome this. Keep watching....
My mom, dad, and grandpa traveled out to Slidell 5 times from Pensacola this weekend to survey the damages and begin repairs. They rented some equipment and generators and started to work tearing out carpets and ripping up drywall in all 12 of the downstairs rooms. The surge of the storm brought in 3 feet of water, which eventually settled at 1 foot, according to the water marks and mold on the furniture and walls. My mom opened the drawer under the oven, only to find that giant clumps of seaweed -- Mapquest Slidell, LA, and you'll understand how bizarre that really is.
All the furniture from the first floor will have to be replaced, the drywall redone from floor to ceiling. But hearing about this, the worst part was the slow and painful mental inventory I began to take of all the family history that was certainly lost. Sketches and letters from my great grandfather the vaudevillian, family Bibles, pictures of my mom and her brothers growing up in New Jersey and Puerto Rico, wedding photos, year books. All had floated off the bottom shelves of bookcases and were now strewn around in bathrooms and kitchens.
And yet, they were lucky. I have friends whose families' homes were nothing but foundations and shingles when they returned. Their possessions are probably being pumped into Lake Ponchartrain as we speak.
I hope that we, as a nation, can learn from this disaster; that we can stop pointing fingers and looking for scapegoats (I'm talking to you, Kanye), and support one another.
I've always considered New Orleans my second home. It's the one constant in my life, the city I could count on -- and it's devastating to see it now, a shell of is former self. But New Orleanians are nothing if not resiliant, full of life and hope and love. They will overcome this. Keep watching....
01 September 2005
Soy un perdador
Today our facilities lady posted a "Welcome" sign on the vacant cube across from me, and said, "Oooh, Tara, you get a new guy sitting across from you! His name is Shawn." I feigned as much enthusiasm as I could until she rounded the corner. I mean, really. Long ago I stopped being excited to meet new people here, never mind casting any thought toward romantic involvement. Not that I would ever date someone I work with (wink!), but anyway I'm not really looking right now. Least of all, here.
As you may know, I work at an engineering firm outside of Fort Worth as a software engineer. This is the trifecta of social ineptitude; the triple-threat. Engineering firms employ mostly men, and roughly 97% of these men a) are over 35 years old, and b) have no personality. Add to that the fact that we're in a small town in Texas, and you get an army of drones espousing antiquated gender mores. They are truly the WASPiest of the WASPs.
Software engineers are a subset of this breed; as engineers go, they are at the far end of the normalcy spectrum, somewhere around Micheal Jackson and that lady on the corner smoking Kools and mumbling about her son, Jimmy Carter, who lives on the moon.
One of my compatriots has a poster of a horse taped up on the wall next to his cube. Well, poster isn't exactly the appropriate term. It's really more of a giant store display for something called "Knicker-Makers". Careful that you don't get too close; a proximity sensor in the display elicits an enthusiastic "neeeeeeeigh" when you enter a 5-foot radius. I'm not altogether sure, but I think he does it so he can safely look at "explicit content" on the 'net without being snuck up on. And by explicit content, I of course mean Amish porn.
Another hasn't quite figured out that women, too, are carbon-based life forms. His MO: the stand-there-and-stare-with-a-blank-expression-while-making-awkward-statements method. "Hi, Tara." Pause. Blink blink. "I heard you were from Slidell." Blink. "I have some family there, too." Head tilt.
I have to get out of here, or I'm going to become a hermit.
As you may know, I work at an engineering firm outside of Fort Worth as a software engineer. This is the trifecta of social ineptitude; the triple-threat. Engineering firms employ mostly men, and roughly 97% of these men a) are over 35 years old, and b) have no personality. Add to that the fact that we're in a small town in Texas, and you get an army of drones espousing antiquated gender mores. They are truly the WASPiest of the WASPs.
Software engineers are a subset of this breed; as engineers go, they are at the far end of the normalcy spectrum, somewhere around Micheal Jackson and that lady on the corner smoking Kools and mumbling about her son, Jimmy Carter, who lives on the moon.
One of my compatriots has a poster of a horse taped up on the wall next to his cube. Well, poster isn't exactly the appropriate term. It's really more of a giant store display for something called "Knicker-Makers". Careful that you don't get too close; a proximity sensor in the display elicits an enthusiastic "neeeeeeeigh" when you enter a 5-foot radius. I'm not altogether sure, but I think he does it so he can safely look at "explicit content" on the 'net without being snuck up on. And by explicit content, I of course mean Amish porn.
Another hasn't quite figured out that women, too, are carbon-based life forms. His MO: the stand-there-and-stare-with-a-blank-expression-while-making-awkward-statements method. "Hi, Tara." Pause. Blink blink. "I heard you were from Slidell." Blink. "I have some family there, too." Head tilt.
I have to get out of here, or I'm going to become a hermit.
31 August 2005
These are the eyes of disarray
Well, I spoke too soon it seems. A levee repair failed in New Orleans yesterday, and the city is anticipated to get 12 more feet of water today. This news coverage makes me nauseous; every story I see reminds me of someone else I need to call and check up on. Roughly half of the people I knew in school are from the areas most affected, and many live there currently. My ex-boyfriend, my freshman year roommate, my Zeta big sis and my grand-lil-sis....
My grandfather and a family friend are heading back soon to survey the damage. I wonder what they'll find when they get there.
My grandfather and a family friend are heading back soon to survey the damage. I wonder what they'll find when they get there.
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